Choices

[Giovanni Cavelli]

Giovanni was surprised by another person who had been waiting outside of the building. She moved to step along side of him and join him as he left, asking a single question.

The question intrigued Giovanni and he stopped, turning towards the woman and glancing her over, contemplating her purpose in the question. It was obvious the woman had followed him. It was also obvious that she hadn't interfered, but what intrigued Giovanni the most was the way she said it. It was accusing and knowing. It wasn't lost on Giovanni that more than likely she knew what had happened. It was the most likely of a few set of outcomes.

As Giovanni looked at her, he found her attractive. Her hair was dark and framed her pale face prettily, but more than physical appearance intrigued him. He couldn't dismiss that she could be dangerous, so he once more seized the power and prepared to use it should she attack. He was a god, he didn't doubt he could defend himself from her.

"An interesting question from someone who likely knows the answer. That begs the question of why you would ask a question that you already know the answer to. Could it be that you're not interested in the answer, but are more interested in the delivery of it."


Giovanni paused for a moment before continuing, "My...friend..."
a smile colored the word. decided to hunt a superior hunter. He failed. It's as simple as that."


Giovanni concentrated on the power, prepared to react to anything she might try.

[Jensen James]

<big>Incoming message from: Jensen
To: Giovanni</big>


<table>
<tr><td>/Begin message


</td></tr>
<tr><td>Hello! Its Jensen from the other night. I hadn't heard from you since what happened to us with the thing on the street. Hope you're well. Let me know if there's anything I can do for you. -JJ
</td></tr>
<tr><td>

/End message</td></tr>
</table>

[Oriena]

His composure was unnatural, considering what she suspected he had just done, and he barely reacted to her uninvited presence. A fluent and eloquent reply issued from his lips, like they were discussing something purely hypothetical. There was no guilt. No remorse. His choice of words did not go unnoticed, but was pressed aside for consumption later. The rest of the rhetoric glazed. He was wrong about why she asked; she didn't care for the content of his answer, and she didn't care what he had done inside the building (or its moral integrity). He was hiding something, and that was enough to inch leverage like a blade between ribs even without his confession; a cruel game she indulged like kittens played with string. The stranger didn't seem to understand who had the upper-hand, that she was toying with him. At least until the choke hold tightened.

""And I'm sure that perfectly rational explanation will serve you well in a court of law.."


Ori sauntered into his path, cutting him off, blocking his way. Her height was nondescript, any hard leanness to her limbs concealed by the leather jacket, and yet her blockade was fearless. Of course, the light glittering beneath her skin went a little way to instilling confidence, and that was not something she had ever been short of anyway. She caught him by the wrist to inspect his hand, looking for blood, though she gave no explanation as to her action. Touch without permission was just another push to garner a reaction, an assertion of power, a dare to contradict her. The blaze of her grin suggested she was waiting for him to snap. "Second question. Why shouldn't I call the cops?"

[Giovanni Cavelli]

The woman stepped in front of him, blocking his path. It wasn't like he was trying to run away anyways, but she could do as she pleased. She grabbed his wrist and grinned at him, seeking some sort of reaction out of him as she asked why she shouldn't call the cops.

Giovanni got the sense that the two were engaged in a hand of poker. Both thought they had the upper hand, but was one of them bluffing. Giovanni wondered at this woman. She was intriguing and certainly more interesting than most he had met. The problem is whether or not the woman had a tell. Was she bluffing and could he call her bluff. He had seen a James Bond movie growing up where Bond had said "you never play your hand, you play the man across from you." Although Giovanni would rather not play games, he would play this hand. It was obvious the woman wasn't afraid of him, but she knew he had killed someone. What cards did she hold?

It was then that the adrenaline from the incident with Luciano wore off and Giovanni felt a chill. He had felt a chill like this once before - in the tunnels when the woman had sat above an injured Giovanni waving her fingers. Giovanni thought about it and if this woman could do the things that he could, they could be on equal footing. It was cold outside though and it could be the wind, but yet it felt different.

He looked down at her hand on his wrist and looked back up at her, meeting her eyes with his own and giving her a smile. "I think a better question is why haven't you? Pretty women usually don't follow people like me to ask them questions. If you had wanted to call the cops you would have already. I'm calling your bluff."


Giovanni returned her grin. Regardless of the danger he could be in, he was enjoying the exchange, but he did have to admit that he was at a disadvantage. Getting thrown in jail would hamper his plans for the cultists in the undercity. He was certainly going all in.

He was interrupted by a buzz coming from his wallet. He gaze momentarily shifted to his pocket before going back to the woman. He would check the message later.

"However, you have me at a disadvantage. You could have called them beforehand. The point is I don't know. It kind of makes things exciting, doesn't it? So all cards on the table. Why shouldn't you call the cops?"


Giovanni could hear Ordine and Caos arguing back and forth in the back of his head - Ordine calling for Giovanni to run away and Caos thrumming his usual kill chant. Giovanni didn't like either option - gods don't run away, and he really had no desire to kill this woman.

He didn't know if the woman could use power, but he prepared himself. It was time to lay his cards on the table. "I could guarantee you though that if you decided to do so now, your hand wouldn't get to your Wallet to make the call."


He then used the power to create the same binding he used on his nephew, wrapping it around the woman's open wrist and pulling it backwards a bit before letting it dissipate. He wasn't trying to threaten her, but rather letting her know that he wasn't your average man.


Edited by Giovanni Cavelli, Aug 31 2014, 08:16 PM.

[Oriena]

So he was calling her bluff? That was dangerous with Oriena; when faced with the prospect of predictability, she was apt to change her mind out of sheer spite. Despite plans to make use of his crime - to her own advantage, of course - she was not invested enough to care what actually happened to him, and betrayal crossed her mind just to prove him wrong. It was a single word - pretty - which stifled the urge. Not through flattery, but in recognition of a weapon offered out unknowingly by the hilt. Inwardly she rolled her eyes; outwardly, the slyness of her smile sharpened. She spied the weakness. And she would exploit it.

With the heightened senses afforded by her gift, she heard the vibration of a phone in his pocket beneath his words. Her gaze flickered, minimally, before it refocussed. He could try and flip the situation back on her - ask her to explain her motives, but she wouldn't pander to that game. It was her game. And her rules. Threats were an unpredictable ammunition. The whip back of her hand might have been taken as an attack - and violence thrummed just beneath the surface with Ori, willingly released for less provocation. But in this case she chose to view it only as confirmation of her suspicions.

She stepped into his space. Oh, he could try and stop her reaching for her wallet, and a part of her wanted to test the rawness of their abilities in such a manner. But a larger part wanted to test his boundaries, to push-push-push until he broke, which was why her hand slipped into the pocket that held his wallet. A slow and deliberate breach of his personal space. Intentionally seductive. Intentionally dominant.

All cards on the table. "You owe me. A huge fucking debt."


The wallet, once free, she pressed flat against his chest. The iron in her eyes brooked no compromise - she wasn't offering out terms for her cooperation, she was stating a fact. As the pressure of her fingers released, he'd have to catch the device in one way or another before it smashed on the ground. She wasn't after anything tangible, not a favour for a favour; she was after debt, mountainous, inescapable debt. The kind that shielded a murderer. Her grin sparkled electric. And she let go. "Come on. You can buy me a drink."

[Giovanni Cavelli]

The woman surprised him as her grin sharpened and moved closer to him. Her hand reached into his pocket, the move seductive and Giovanni's libido took over as she pulled out his own Wallet.

She mentioned he owed her a "huge fucking debt" and pressed Giovanni's Wallet to his chest and from the look in her eyes, Giovanni knew he'd have to pay. She may have been bluffing before, but that could easily change in the future. The easiest way to silence her would be to let her join his nephew, but Giovanni wasn't exactly thinking with his brain.

She let go of the Wallet and it dropped. He had already showed her his power, so he had no qualms with catching it in the air and bringing it back to his hand. He looked the woman up and down for a moment as his thoughts ran wild. He smiled at her as she mentioned getting a drink.

"I'd love to buy you a drink."
Giovanni began walking and the woman continued walking at his side.

The Wallet in his hand, Giovanni checked the message. It was from Jensen and Giovanni was glad to hear from the man. Jensen was a good guy. Giovanni quickly replied.

"I'm well - want to meet with you soon. Will send for details later."


He placed the Wallet back in his pocket and the bullets that he taken jingled. They entered the bar - Giovanni held the door open for the woman - and found a seat. The waitress approached and Giovanni ordered.

"I'll have some rum on the rocks."
He gestured towards the woman to order her own beverage. The waitress was quick and they soon had drinks in front of them.

"So what's your price?"
Giovanni had ideas of what he wanted it to be.


Edited by Giovanni Cavelli, Sep 2 2014, 02:08 PM.

[Oriena]

It was like pulling a puppy along on a piece of string. He was docile to her intrusion, didn't make any obvious attempt to stop her. By the time her hand pulled back the lust was hot in the length of his gaze. She did nothing to discourage it, though as yet did nothing further to inflame the depths of his imagination. Not that he probably needed help. The earnestness was slightly irritating - he'd love to buy her a drink? Fucking moron - but the snug way he fit so perfectly in the palm of her hand? For that, she smiled.

He chose the bar - Ori had no objections. She sat opposite, slung the jacket over the back of her chair. Beneath her clothes were unremarkable; a dark vest, plain and simple, over worn black jeans. The kind of business she'd seen to today, she'd not wanted to stand out, and if it in turn made her an ill fit for this new setting, she seemed utterly unconcerned. She waved the waitress away with an order of the same, disinterested. Instead she studied the face of the murderer, completely unabashed by the intensity of her scrutiny.

"I'm sure I'll think of something."
The smile she offered was vicious. Did he think it would be a bargain so easily struck? That she would ask, he would acquiesce, and the whole thing would be done with? Ori dealt in secrets, wielded them like blades to be held at necks or to the small of backs. She twisted them, bled them dry, exploited every single one to its very core. Hers was a vengeful spirit. And a patient one. There was no simple price, no single transaction. She pressed th glass to her lips, let the rum wet her lips. Grinned at him over the rim. "So are you going to share your name?"

[Giovanni Cavelli]

Giovanni couldn't see the web the woman was weaving around him. He couldn't see the invisible strings she was attaching to his arms and legs. He had no idea that this woman was a master manipulator - a puppeteer and he was her puppet. The only question being would Giovanni realize it in time to untangle himself. Would his own lust dissipate in time for him to see what she was really doing?

The woman wore plain clothes and it reminded Giovanni of what he had been wearing before, although hers were a better quality than his had been. She ordered the same drink as Giovanni and sipped at it, grinning at him.

His name? Giovanni had been wondering about this himself - he cared not about hiding from the Atharim anymore. He could revert back to his real name. The thought made him wonder, but no - Francesco Moretti was dead. The last remnants of him died with Luciano - Giovanni Cavelli was who he was now - for better or for worse.

Had he been thinking clearly, Giovanni would have offered her an alias - well a different alias, but instead he offered her his preferred name. "Giovanni...my name's Giovanni."


Giovanni took a long pull from his glass, draining it, and the waitress brought him another. "And what's your name?"

[Oriena]

"Giovanni."
She tested the name like silk across bare skin, lingering over the caress. Her grin was a blatant tease, amused by his attention and the way he stared. He drowned his first glass and quickly moved to the second. Nerves or impatience; she didn't care to fathom out which. Oriena did not think he would take what he wanted, though he clearly wanted it. Rather he watched and waited for her lead. If he was still concerned she might betray his crime he didn't much show it. She detected no guilt. So she put it down to reticence that had nothing to do with the confidence required to end a man's life. "Oriena."


The bar was sparse of patronage - the time of day, probably. Ori leaned forward on the table, toying with her drink. "So. What's it like being a god, Giovanni?"
There was a touch of emphasis on that word. God. A suggestion of awe. Of superiority.

[Giovanni Cavelli]

God. The word sparked something in Giovanni.

”God…
Caos murmered in the background.

And with that word, something shifted. Something seemed off to Giovanni. The situation itself seemed out of his control. A god was always in control and right now he wasn’t. His own sex drive was – and the woman, Oriena, had put him into that situation. He felt like an animal being manipulated into a corner – and Giovanni didn’t like being manipulated.

”MANIPULATIVE BITCH!”
Caos screamed in Giovanni’s head. Unlike the incident in the hospital, Giovanni didn’t repeat the words aloud.

Giovanni seized the power, feeling almost as if Caos himself had done so. He kept the power from raging out at the woman, but the torrent of the power echoing his own fury. Externally he kept calm though, keeping his gaze on the woman.

She had one thing on him – he murdered his nephew. That was her leverage. She had no proof he had committed the crime – it was just hearsay. Her leverage was weak, and it’s not like the mortal authorities bothered him anyways. He’d taken on Atharim hunters – although Luciano was a joke. He just didn’t want them to get in the way and slow him down. She thought she had a weapon – but Giovanni was going to take away her ammunition.

Giovanni didn’t answer her question. Instead he pulled his Wallet out and dialed a number – a line to report a crime.

”I want to report a murder. I saw two men and a woman go into a warehouse near the Guardian. One of the guys seemed forced. I peeked through the window and saw that man…die…they broke his neck. They looked towards the window and I fled.
The person on the other end asked for Giovanni’s name. ”I don’t want them to find me.”
Giovanni added some panic into his voice for effect.

He finished the call and hung up and turned his gaze back to Oriena. She knew he was a god, but had attempted to manipulate him nonetheless. What kind of woman would do that? He wondered again at the chill he had felt – with both Oriena and the woman in the tunnel that had tried to heal him. If she had god powers – she would stand up to him. Gods always vied with each other to gain the upper hand. He decided to take a chance at it.

”No, Oriena. You tell me what it’s like to be a goddess.”
She had said the word with awe – an attempt to inflate his ego. He said the word with disdain – an outright challenge.
Edited by Giovanni Cavelli, Sep 7 2014, 05:22 PM.