Dead Man's Cheer Up Party
Who: Tomato Gang Alicia, Romano, Alejándro, Antonio (+anyone else who wants to comfort him)
When: Wednesday, 2nd of March. 12.30 midday
Where: The Coffee Shoppe
What: Its Comfort the Spaniard time. Too bad he couldn't have chosen better friends.
Romano was quiet, deadly quiet, and it drew more attention to him than any of his outbursts ever could. Of course he'd spent the first week- at least the first week- chiding Antonio for causing so much trouble and drawing suspicion to himself (because in all the years the childcare had been open, no one else had had this problem), and the court had just about killed whatever raging energy he had left.
''Has Antonio ever talked to you about the children?' ''How did he react?'' Well that had been a stupid question- the Spaniard was only capable of four emotions; faux-happy, puppy dog happy, dejected and pissed off. Romano had only personally witnessed three of them, and apparently none were the answer the jury was looking for.
The family lawyer had promised his acquittal, with a very clear understanding that his career was riding on this one case, but Romano wouldn't be happy rest until the whole thing was over. It was bad enough that the Judge had insisted he present himself as Lovino, let alone the fact that Antonio was- would be-
Romano poked at the bagel in front of him, watching those across from him behind half-lidded eyes. Alicia and Ale were at least making an effort to cheer up the accused, whereas Romano had given up completely. Between dealing with work, the Mafia and Antonio's court-case he'd found very little time for sleep, and behind a very overcome demeanor his patience was running thin.
He hated to admit it but, if Nonno were still here the case would be over and Antonio would be a free man. But he wasn't, and Lovino didn't have that kind of authority. Rightful or not, the Family wouldn't listen to him and that acknowledgment just made the day a whole lot fucking worse.
It should have been over already. Because if Romano couldn't save his best friend from jail, well, what good was he.
" 'Doesn't matter," He muttered into the mocha now resting against his lips, more as self-reassurance than a part of whatever conversation they were having, "The fat cow doesn't have any evidence anyway."
When: Wednesday, 2nd of March. 12.30 midday
Where: The Coffee Shoppe
What: Its Comfort the Spaniard time. Too bad he couldn't have chosen better friends.
Romano was quiet, deadly quiet, and it drew more attention to him than any of his outbursts ever could. Of course he'd spent the first week- at least the first week- chiding Antonio for causing so much trouble and drawing suspicion to himself (because in all the years the childcare had been open, no one else had had this problem), and the court had just about killed whatever raging energy he had left.
''Has Antonio ever talked to you about the children?' ''How did he react?'' Well that had been a stupid question- the Spaniard was only capable of four emotions; faux-happy, puppy dog happy, dejected and pissed off. Romano had only personally witnessed three of them, and apparently none were the answer the jury was looking for.
The family lawyer had promised his acquittal, with a very clear understanding that his career was riding on this one case, but Romano wouldn't be happy rest until the whole thing was over. It was bad enough that the Judge had insisted he present himself as Lovino, let alone the fact that Antonio was- would be-
Romano poked at the bagel in front of him, watching those across from him behind half-lidded eyes. Alicia and Ale were at least making an effort to cheer up the accused, whereas Romano had given up completely. Between dealing with work, the Mafia and Antonio's court-case he'd found very little time for sleep, and behind a very overcome demeanor his patience was running thin.
He hated to admit it but, if Nonno were still here the case would be over and Antonio would be a free man. But he wasn't, and Lovino didn't have that kind of authority. Rightful or not, the Family wouldn't listen to him and that acknowledgment just made the day a whole lot fucking worse.
It should have been over already. Because if Romano couldn't save his best friend from jail, well, what good was he.
" 'Doesn't matter," He muttered into the mocha now resting against his lips, more as self-reassurance than a part of whatever conversation they were having, "The fat cow doesn't have any evidence anyway."