A Winding Crack (Lucy & Richard)(Casual)

[MAYOR HECTOR "HADES" TORMEI]

Hector was feeling quite like the cat who got the canary. He was going to attend a posh party that, even though he didn't attend many without much grumbling or complaining, he was quite enjoying. Of course, it probably had something to do with the lovely young woman that was going to be on his arm. It had everything to do with the young woman. The young woman who one newly elected mayor had contacted him about two years ago because of the scandal she was making with the deceased Edward Plantagenet. Her name was Lucy Harris, was. When Hector had made the decision not to kill her, only to beat her within an inch of her miserable life, he had done so with a singular purpose; that she would learn her lesson. That Lucy Harris would not grace the bed of any Plantagenet again, or any other important figure in New York's political realm for that matter, and what he got was better.

When Hector had approached the woman, he was anticipating a look of fear and possibly even some running. Instead, he met Kitty, a spitfire of a whore. It filled him with glee, pure malicious glee. He had done more than taught her lesson, he took away her life. In the most bitter sense that he had ever used the word, Hector had murdered Lucy Harris, leaving a shell in her wake. And, for a mobster who had the city under his thumb and countless skeletons in his closet, it was probably one of the largest accomplishments he could receive credit for. The perfect murder. A murder that the cops couldn't pin on him and a charge that only, at most, could get him ten years if he was even convicted, which was a laughable notion. Almost as laughable as what was left of Lucy Harris. A shell who had no problem accepting his invitation with it's monetary perk. Any prostitute was eager to accept a multi-thousand dollar job and this one accepted without trying to shove her hand down his pants to "make it worth his money". 'Kitty' had, at his request, arrived at his penthouse a good hour early where a box was waiting for her. It was the clothes that he was expecting her to wear, including shoes and accessories. He moved to the other end of his penthouse, into his room where he put on his suit, as expensive and exquisite as her evening look was sure to be. She had no need to steal from him, considering how much he was paying her and the fact that she could keep the earrings he had bought.

Hector smirked proudly at his reflected as his deft fingers finished knotting his tie. He tugged it into place ran a hand through his dark, carefully styled hair once again. Allowing himself a nod of approval and satisfaction, Hector made his way back to the door and knocked twice to let 'Kitty' know that he was about to enter.

And she thought that a car accident had stolen her memories. Foolish girl didn't realize that she was attending a party with her own, personal Grim Reaper.

[LUCY "KITTY" HARRIS]

'Cause solid currency's the hardest to love

No matter how continuously Kitty attempted to remain in her mold and forgo dramatic change, lurking just beyond the cityscape she’d built her falsified security upon was the change that shook the foundations. Some would argue that change was nothing to be wary of and that embracing it made whatever transition that was occurring much less of a battle. She would argue that it depended on the battle itself; where and why it was raging and who stood on the front-lines. Where was this change that spurred these thoughts sodden with distrust? It was jeering at her from behind the impregnable vestige of the mirror. Her own reflection, dressed in the taunts of falsities, was a blatant lie.

The street where she herself was a packaged lie garnished with the turpitude of sin was the site of their introductory meeting, Hector and Kitty’s. An uneasiness had stolen over her ever since her first rendezvous with Hyde and those that followed suit, so much so that the rippling of a shadow in some dark corner was met by the flicker of alarm in her eyes. Momentary was the slip, but all one needed was a moment to be discovered and subsequently worn down to a pitiless disarray. Her guard, so intense when shrugged into her task as Kitty the whore, had been heightened thus.

Hector was a man she would not have pegged as a seeker of street “goods” upon initial glance. The older man was of an imposing stature with a defined face of a seemingly perpetual brooding. Crisply dressed and with an air of authority wafting this way and that, clashing with the decrepitude of her lowly little street corner. There was something evidently wrong with the picture; a man of his societal position soliciting her for accompaniment to what he had made clear was to be a formal soiree with the city’s elite. Yes, it was safe to assume that Kitty was out of her element.

So there she found herself in his penthouse, driven out of her drab normalcy and thrust into a world in which practiced deceit seemed to afford you the luxuries of life. Perhaps that was another reason for Kitty’s current and persistent financial disadvantages; the fact that she harbored an innermost abhorrence towards deceit, especially in excess. It was the way of the prostitute and most everyone she had come to realize, however, and so she suffered her reflection in silence, willing away her objections for what she hoped would carry on until their night had run its course. Everyone had their role to play and it was that approach that was going to aid Kitty in her performance.

Kitty took a moment to behold herself before Hector’s knock disturbed her and she invited him in; clad in a flattering black number, diamonds ostentatiously showcased for all the world to covet and her umber hair pinned up with slightly wavy tendrils framing her delicate face, she nearly scoffed at herself. She could fool others into thinking there was no imposter, but she could never fool herself.

Glancing at him through the reflection of the mirror as he entered, she acknowledged him with look alone before returning to her own attentions. Her brows furrowed as she regarded the young woman in the mirror, dissecting her with a scathing judgment.

Somewhat detachedly, she glanced him again and said, “You know, if a simple bookstore helps pay for all of this, I think I may have missed my calling in life.” Spoken with a joking sarcasm, she flashed him the briefest of grins. Whether genuine or practiced, it was difficult even for her to decipher.

Perhaps there was still hope for her performance yet.



(M’kay. Two things. Firstly, I am ass for responding late again. Sowwiez. :< And secondly, after this post I’m gonna take the advice given to me by a certain someone and stop fretting over post length. It’s a problem that probably plays a role in my tardiness for delivering posts and I don’t want to have that problem anymore. We’ll see how it goes. :3 Anyway, lead on. I've given you little to work with, but lead on. =P)

[MAYOR HECTOR "HADES" TORMEI]

Hector smiled to himself, genuinely pleased with how Kitty looked in the clothes he had Angelo pick out for her. Hector, himself, did not have time to chose a dress, shoes, and diamonds but he did approve them before setting them out. He reminded himself to give Angelo a bonus for doing such a wonderful job. "I was simply blessed with some luck, that is all. You look lovely, my dear," Hector adjusted his cuffs and extended an arm. "Shall we, the limo is waiting outside,"

Hector wasn't quite sure how the evening was going to pan out. Especially since Richard was going to be there. It was partially foolish and partially sadistic to invite Lucy Harris to the party. He could already tell that she was moderately uncomfortable with the situation but he was surprisingly fine with it all. It wasn't like Hector was one to pass up the company of a beautiful woman, even if she was Lucy Harris.

Hector lead her to the car and opened the door for her, ignoring the driver who had scurried to help. Sliding in after her was, as always, awkward. There was no way to slide in a dignified manner. Once settled, Hector reached over to the cooler and pulled out the bottle of champagne inside. He popped it and poured it into two chilled flutes and handed one to Kitty.

"Tell me a little about yourself, Kitty,"

[LUCY "KITTY" HARRIS]

Kitty had not the faintest idea who she was. To herself she was a mystery; a mystery whose truth was belated and obscured by a darkness of being that she was lost in. It was human nature not to ever fully understand one’s self. There were rare moments of insight where intuition reigned supreme and one thought the better of it, assuming to be all-knowing. If there was one consistency that she knew of, it would be that human beings were mysteries unto themselves.

She’d once held the belief that the only mystery in other human beings was why, at least for her, there existed no mystery. Every passing stranger and fading face was another person who could cause her head or heartache and there were no shining exceptions. She could fit anyone into that mold that years of abuse had crafted and justify it with equal fervor. She thought herself a woman of solitude, way out there on the fringe somewhere because she could not understand why others didn’t see how effortless it was to actually read people. Kitty felt at least minutely secure in herself because she could grasp that verity that every single person lied. It wasn’t until a certain someone who had offered her the security of self that she could never before attain came along and lied to her, even if minimally, that she understood the perplexity so many had already caught onto. The mystery was never if someone lied, but why that person lied in the first place. That was the key to every living person- the why behind everything.

So while Hector played the role of her guide into a world she could never grow to learn, there came the “why”. The two years of her life had instilled in her a fixation that she knew was all her own. A pursuit for understanding, a passion for the truth. Lies impeded her progress, but each one served its purpose. Without the lies, she would never be able to recognize the truth, much less appreciate it. Without the lies, she wouldn’t have been ever the wiser.

Hector escorted her into luxury with all of the confidence she had come to learn was second nature to him. He did not at all seem fazed by the truth that a street prostitute masquerading as an escort would be on his arm this night; that at any given moment, the mask she’d never worn before could slip and they could both be discovered. She tried to drown the anxiety with a swallow of champagne, carbonated and dry as it was. She hadn’t the acquired taste for such luxuries and neither the etiquette to pretend otherwise so, then and there, she resolved to only indulge in those fancies as befit the situation.

His question was one that, without exception, startled her. Rapidly skimming through past conversations with anyone and everyone she had ever met in her past two years of living, she arrived at the realization that no one had ever asked her that before and especially not in so candid a manner. With skillful appliance she was able to veil her surprise, making a note of it that this man was one that she needed to be wary of. Perhaps his reasoning for asking was simply to make polite conversation and that motive could be easily understood. Why was it, then, that something felt particularly strange about his asking it? Why, why, why?

She cleared her throat, shifting slightly in her seat before glancing in his direction with the swiftness of a dagger stroke. Tell him something about herself? Even if she knew, it was far from likely that she would tell him.

“What do you want to know that you don’t know about me already? Come nighttime, my story is on every street corner, turning tricks for less than a living. There isn’t much to tell,” she spoke with something akin to tamed enmity and winced as she realized the exact tone she had used. Her task was to be agreeable, not to barrage him with her frigid doses of honesty and comingled deflection.

Flashing him an apologetic countenance, she uttered lowly, “Sorry for the testiness. It’s not what you paid for. I guess I’m just nervous.” Inwardly, she cursed herself for that last admission. It had been honest, but a bit too honest with a stranger than she was comfortable with.



(I actually didn’t worry about post length this time and it still turned out semi-lengthy. -__-)

[MAYOR HECTOR "HADES" TORMEI]

Hector chuckled. "It's quite alright. That fire is more than entertaining," He sipped his champagne thoughtfully for a moment. It wouldn't be any good for him to take Kitty to a party, with her viper tongue, and not have people know instantly that she's a whore he hired. "I have created an identity of sorts, for you, for this evening. We can't have the high society of New York seeing you as a common street walker.

"You're name will be Katherine Miller, upper-middle class, going to school with your Daddy's money. You came into my shop one day, mistaking it for a regular book shop, looking for a text book. We chatted, I gave you information on where to find said text book, and you agreed to attend the event with me," Hector looked over at Kitty, studying her face intently. She could pull it off, he was certain. But Richard would know who she was. Hopefull, the mayor would be composed enough not to blurt out his anger right then. Hector knew his...friend (not that he could really call him that) was more than in control of his impulses but everyone was prone to random outbursts. But, Hector thought wryly, not Richard. Richard was always in control, never slipping. He chided himself for even worrying about Richard. It was a pointless effort.

"Does that sound agreeable to you?"

[LUCY "KITTY" HARRIS]

Just barely was she able to catch the grimace that had dared to try and make itself known. She practiced a great deal of self-restraint just then when he had laughed off her intensity with what she surmised was a tinge of condescension. Her words had been honest, as the fire behind them had been. They had not been uttered in an attempt to entertain Hector, as he so remarked. Something inside of her bristled though she kept it veiled with a skillful contortion of expression that purported agreeability and not simmering annoyance. Perhaps she was being unduly displeasing. Either way, a radical change had to occur if she expected to be paid for her company and no man was going to do so if her foul-temper persisted.

Hector spoke of the city’s elite and how it would not bode well for his reputation if she were revealed to be nothing but a common streetwalker. There she could not contest for she very well knew the reputation of prostitutes in general. There was something to be said, however, about her stance on such matters. It was not that Kitty harbored a vendetta towards those of blue blood and skin of carat gold. It was that the blue blood always ran cold and the gold was always gilded. They bandied about names of supposed importance and were sold to the highest bidder just as quickly as a little whore on the streets was sold to one who could spare the dollars. What was the difference, then, between an elite and a common prostitute? A name. A name made all the difference.

The sliver of a bitter smile tugged at one corner of her mouth as Hector practically proved the point she had been making within the safety of her own mind. He bestowed upon her a new name to hide behind, something new-fangled to garnish the mask she would wear that night. A name belonging to a phantom of a father with a specter of a fortune was all those clutching to the highest rung of the social ladder needed to accept her presence.

Kitty waited patiently for him to finish, digesting the information and working it into memory. How to best play the role she was given was another trial altogether. She raised the glass to him in acknowledgment with a slight tilt of her head and glanced him with a barely there smile.

“Katherine Miller at your service,” she conceded, taking another small sip of the champagne, its light distinctive flavor still very foreign to her, as was the name on her tongue. Musing outwardly, she queried, “And who would this ‘Daddy Miller’ be if I’m to be mooching off of him?”



(I am slowass. I am sorry. :3)

[MAYOR HECTOR "HADES" TORMEI]

Hector didn't miss the miniscule expressions that crossed Kitty's face. He knew fully how it sounded when he belittled her, practically calling her the lowest form of person in the city. She would not, in any capacity, be worthy of such an event or the company she would be sharing for the evening. As long as she knew that, it was all fine. Hector couldn't allow for her to expect more openly, or even privately though the disappointment would be sweet as the torment he knew the evening was to bring. But, too much would break the poor girl, taking away some of Hector's pleasure. After all, he was paying her for far more than just her company at the event.

"Daddy Miller is a culteral attache, away on business in Greece. The other attendees of the party will not have heard of him seeing as he likes to keep a low profile," Hector ran a hand down his chest, smoothing his shirt. "You're his only daughter, thus earning his lavish favor. You see him only occassionaly any more, so you don't really know what he has been up to. You'll have to figure out everything else as you go," Hector drained his champagne glass and opened the mini bar next to him. Forgoing the bubbly for something stronger, Hector poured himself a scotch in the flute, not bothering with a clean glass. Content with his drink choice, Hector also pulled out a cigarette, lighting up without asking permission from Kitty. She was his employee for the time being, she could put up with the smoke if she didn't like it. Asthma? Too bad. Hector cracked the window slightly, not enough to disturb their clothing, just enough for the smoke to escape. It was bad taste to show up to a party smelling of smoke.

[LUCY "KITTY" HARRIS]

All that she was was something she had sold long before Hector had procured her to best serve his needs. There were no delusions of grandeur or expectancy in that regard. Kitty knew the position she best suited and did not stray lest it was required of her. Hector was a man of a certain prudence and sharpness in intellect. That much was being made clearer and clearer as she shared his company. He must have very well known the ease with which she could be molded and the psychosomatic influence that gave vent to the woman.

The image of this broken beauty could be skillfully concealed by the rich fabric of extravagance and the feigned essence of propriety. The challenge imposed by the evening, at least on a superficial level, was the accurate although skewed portrayal of one of them. If there was one verity to be understood, it was that while she could masquerade as one of the elites, she could never be one. Kitty was never surer of how far away she was from them than when she was sitting right beside one.

She nodded along slowly as he provided her with few details, a slight assurance that she was following his speech, working the information over in her mind and rather than being affronted by his lack of elucidation, she took it in stride. An overload of minutiae at such a late stage could possibly result in her spouting muddled particulars. This afforded her some creative liberty and if she expected to prove her worth, whatever it would come to be, there was no other approach that would garner it as effectively.

“Fair enough,” she finally stated. Positioning herself so that she slantly faced Hector, not a single micro-expression of protest arose when he lit up the cigarette. Spider too disregarded her sentiments on the matter. Holding her drink aloft, she ventured the first lasting, direct gaze she had leveled on him all night. She could slightly read from his expression and the tone of his voice the semblance of his perception of her. “I agree, you know,” she started, voice paradoxically tinged with a sultry and subdued prominence.

Motioning in a gesticulative manner with the hand that held the champagne flute to the style in which they were currently ensnared, Kitty continued almost as if she had slipped into his head and stolen the thought straight from the source. “All of this luxury and company, I will never be worthy of. I know better than to think otherwise. Not to worry, though. Tonight I’ll be whatever you want me to be and exactly what they need me to be.”

Bringing the glass level to her lips, she smiled a slow smile and drained a bit more of the champagne, noting the limousine coming to a sluggish stop.



(Holy fuck, the delay on this post was ridiculous. THE SHAME. v_v I can apologize time and time again for it, but I figure you know the drill. Sucks that it’s become a drill, though. Hopefully I gave you enough to work with. Shaking off the cobwebs is no joke, man. -.-)

[MAYOR HECTOR "HADES" TORMEI]

"I trust you to perform just as you say. It's the main reason why I chose you, I could tell that you weren't prone to flights of fancy," Hector glanced out the window as the car began to slow. He fell silent as his driver parked the car and exited to open the back door. Hector slid off the leather seat of the car and smoothed his suit down before offering his hand to help Kitty from the vehicle. He gave his driver instructions to return in about three hours, Hector would alert him to any tardiness.

Offering his arm to the newly christianed Katherine, Hector lead the way up the walkway to the front door. The doorman smiled at the pair and bowed slightly at the waist. "Mr. Tormei, welcome. Would you like me to announce your arrival?"

"That won't be necessary, we'll find our way just fine. Thank you," Hector nodded his head in the man's direction and continued walking. There were spatterings of people in the entry and when the pair breached the doorway, they were submerged in the opulant crowd. Diamonds and fine silks crowded around the mob boss and his escort but Hector paid them no mind. He scanned the crowd carefully for Richard. His mind whirred with malicious glee, he couldn't wait to see the look on the incumbent's face when he saw Kitty turned Katherine.

Hector took far too much pleasure in antagonzing his friend in public arenas. Watching Richard battle for control was rewarding for the man who made a career of manipulating minds and punishing weak resolves.

[RICHARD PLANTAGENET]

Hosting parties had always been Edward's area of expertise and he'd got it down to a fine art. Richard had never warmed to the idea, but now he knew it would be necessary to assume his brother's role in a form other than that of the city's ruler. He had come to realize soon after Hector had announced his candidacy that, rather than descanting on his woes as he used to, he would have to become the man of action once more.

He'd called upon all the influential contacts at his disposal for this get-together and they hadn't dissapointed. Loath as he was to admit it but Richard had picked up a trick or two from the older brother he'd so despised over the years; the party was already in full swing and he was almost certain he'd have these potential voters wound round his little finger before the night was out. Though Richard may have only used the spotlight when it was absolutely necessary, there was no doubt he was able to use it well and to his advantage. That and the fact this party wasn't just about the votes, although that was truly the most important factor in its being hosted at all. For Richard, at least, this was an excuse to gloat, inside his own head at any rate, over his success in the whole Holmes fiasco.

At least with reagrds to the matter of Edward's murder he was safe. Keeping Edward's position...that remained to be seen.

Despite his initial misgivings about the election (Hector was running against him after all, Hector, of all people) Richard found that now he was in a room full of people he was sure were on his side his usual confidence had returned. Richard was himself again. He made his way through the throng, smiling, nodding, surprisingly comfortable in this new role as a party host.

The strange thing was that despite Richard's feelings towards Hector at this moment in time, he saw fit to invite him to the get together. Admittedly, he feared if he didn't it could reflect badly on him. He would have to act for the others, give a show of good sportsmanship, but he was used to playing that part to a degree, just as he'd done with Edward in power. Flatter and look fair and all may be well.

It was as Richard was finishing up a conversation with a man who had been particullarly pro-Plantagenet for the past few years (Edward, specifically, but that could be rectified) that he spotted Hector Tormei as he walked in. Excusing himself from the man as politely as he could he broke into a grin and made his way over. So intent was he in keeping up his act of cordiality that he paid no heed to the woman on Hector's arm until he was within talking distance.

"Hector, it's a pleasure to-"

The swiftest of glances at the woman's face confirmed it. It was two years since the 'accident' but here was no mistaking Lucy Harris.

"-see you again."

How exactly was he meant to react to this? What did Hector mean by bringing her here? And how was it even possible? She was dead, wasn't she? That was what he'd paid Hector to do, was it not? Ensure she would never be a problem again? Surely that couldn't have been misinterpreted?

Simply put; what the b***** hell was going on?

Luckily, amazingly, Richard managed to remain in character. The slight pause in his greeting was the only thing he could have been marked out on. Somehow resisting the urge to shoot Hector a questioning look, he turned his attention from him to the woman once more. Lucy Harris. Good God.

"And who might this charming young woman be?"

He knew the answer yet he didn't know if it was the correct one any longer.


ooc: Hope that works for you guys. :3