Roll The Dice
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September 15th, 2008
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| It was a rare night that Jessica had actually managed to get quite a bit of sleep, only jerking awake a couple of times with her nightmares. Both times she had hunted for the chocolate in the fridge and settled herself down, stretching and running through familiar patterns in her mind as she calmed herself into a state where she could sleep again. That morning, though, Oliver had woken her, told her to get dressed (in some of her newer clothes that fitted her rather better than the others) and then they left the Fairmont, heading towards... somewhere. Jessica couldn't quite remember where it was they were heading. Wherever it was, it was to meet some guy called 'Joseph' who was going to get the rest of her ID. Jessica couldn't deny how nervous she was feeling, the comforting feeling of her blade at her hip went some way to reassuring her that everything was going to be fine as she walked through the crowd, Oliver left behind her as she headed towards the meeting place, being jostled by people. But she kept walking until the crowds slowly slimmed down until she was only walking past a few people. The instructions were going around and round in her head, left then right, two hundred yards, enter the store. Look for a man named Joseph. She had been told he would possibly be smoking. It was a coffee shop they were meeting in to go somewhere else, and from the aroma of coffee that filled her senses, Jessica determined she was in the right place. A booth out of the way, somewhere in the middle so he's not conspicuous by being too open or too shady. That wasn't the exact wording, but it was what she had deduced. Hiding in plain sight. She started to think that maybe there was something... not so legal about these dealings. She swallowed and thought about the story she had gone over with Oliver; parents lived in Thailand. Recently back to the country. Living with her cousin. She wet her lower lip and pushed open the door, big brown eyes darting upwards as the small bell above the door chimed cheerfully, announcing her arrival. She stilled, like a doe caught in the headlights for a moment before she slid into the shop, sure that there weren't people looking at her. If they were, it was just because she had walked in. The silence that had fallen when the door opened was short-lived and soon enough people were involved in their conversations again. Remembering the vague description of Mr Joseph Tropiano that she had been given, she quickly looked over at the patrons and walked over to a table, a table at which a man was sitting that fitted the description, chewing on her lower lip for a moment before she put her hand on the table to draw his attention. "Mr Tropiano?" Joseph had done as promised, he'd gotten every scrap of paperwork Oliver's 'cousin' would need for her legal right to live in the United States. He was pretty sure that any good American citizen would have him hung for giving away illegal rights for people to be in the States, but Joseph didn't make money out of doing what was right all the time. There was something to be said for working the system to your advantage and what did it matter that one more face walked the streets of Chicago? It was a big enough city. He'd gotten a very brief description of this cousin so he knew what sort of woman to be on the lookout for even if he had conjured up this image of a wild woman from the back of beyond thanks to Oliver's description. Not one to come to any meeting unprepared Joseph had a 9mm strapped to his side beneath the leather jacket that hugged his shoulders like a second skin, long hair tied back and familiar cigarette resting between his index and middle finger. After an inhale and exhale Joseph cast his eyes over the small coffee shop and noted the faces, smiling in response to a flirtatious look here and there. He flicked ash aside and scratched along his jaw, silver rings catching in the light and causing a shimmer on the table's surface. It was the placement of a hand on his table that eventually pulled a set of deep brown eyes to the girl stood in front of him. "And you would be?" He asked, accent thick and out of place amongst the Chicago natives. ( Calming Breath ) ( Introductions ) | ||||||||||
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accomplishedAugust 30th, 2008
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| The last thing Joseph had been expecting was a call, the sort of call he’d taken hundreds of back in Vegas. Somebody wanted something nobody else could get and it would seem even this far from the city of Sin reputation was everything. Granted he was trying to do the right thing, go by the book, all that kind of stuff, but truth was that Joseph was a natural at bending the rules and working beneath the radar of the law. Pretty ironic that he was supposed to be auditioning for a job in a bar where half the city cops hung out. Whatever, he'd deal with his conscience later. Currently he was sat in a booth, cigarette dangling from the ends of callused fingers, hat sat low on his eyes and smoke hanging above him like some sort of raincloud. Joseph was waiting, for some guy called Oliver. Apparently he needed something of a sensitive nature, Joseph never asked for specifics over the telephone. He was paranoid like that. He moved slowly and flicked ash into the nearby ashtray, gaze flickering over to the door before it came back to his drink. "Another refill," he said to the nearby waitress ending his request with a charming smile. "Please." The waitress giggled and hurried off with his glass, leaving Joseph to his watchful gaze of the door. Out on the sidewalk, Oliver was lighting a cigarette and giving the street a once-over before stepping into the establishment. He gotten Tropiano's name from a bartender who'd become talkative after a better than average tip and some discreet questions. It rang a bell with him for some reason, that name, and he couldn't place why. Never mind. If it was important, it'd come to him. The spellcaster let his gaze run over the room, picked out a dark-haired man in a booth near the back, and he sauntered closer, smoke trailing in his wake. The waitress passed in front of him on the way to the table, and he paused to tuck his hands into his pockets before continuing his trek. He stopped within a foot of the table when the woman had left, the lit smoke still hanging out of his mouth. "Mr. Tropiano?" he asked in a low voice. "I believe we spoke on the phone." ( Lovely Imagery ) ( Reputation ) | ||||||||||
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workingAugust 18th, 2008
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| The midday crowd had come and gone, and the evening crowd was yet to arrive at Smoke Eater's Tavern, and Pat O'Rourke was taking advantage of the lull to get some behind the scenes work done. Standing in the middle of the walk in refrigerator back in the kitchen of the bar with clipboard and pen in hand, he was figuring out exactly what he had left in the way of food and what needed to be ordered for the week to come. He was on shift at the Station tomorrow and wouldn't be able to do anything bar related, so all the paperwork and stock take needed to be done tonight. Of the four patrons in the bar at the moment, two were at the bar proper chatting with the bartender and watching the TV while the other two shot pool in the back room. All four were regulars, and the two playing pool were actually brother firefighters from Pat's company. He was confident that Stever, the bartender and only employee on shift at the moment, to handle anything customers could throw at him until the evening rush started in a few hours. Joseph had spent the last week or so hitting the pavement of Chicago, looking for work and coming up empty. It was enough to drive him back into his old wicked ways. He was attempting to make a fresh start, trying to find an above board kind of job that he could sink his teeth into before he contemplated doing anything else. He didn't think he'd ever be able to give up being the unique acquirer of things that most people couldn't get their hands on but he could get out of the lifestyle that had nearly taken his life. Joseph hadn't told Rhiannon just yet, figuring he'd wait until he had gotten somewhere before revealing his grand plan whatever that plan was. It was still very much a work in progress. Dressed in a pair of low riding jeans and a dark shirt with both sleeves rolled up to his elbows, Joseph crossed off another job and then stepped in through the doors to a place called Smoke Eater's Tavern. The paper had said they were in need of a bartender and if there was one thing Joseph knew how to do was serve drinks and take care of people. His booted feet took him to the bar where he spoke to a guy behind it, asking if his boss was in. ( Trial By Fire ) | ||||||||||
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restlessAugust 4th, 2008
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| Job hunting. Joseph had forgotten how boring and tedious it could be, especially in a new town. Maybe it was because he'd stepped outside of Vegas but he was thinking maybe it was time for him to do something the legal and proper way. Maybe even open up his own business? What? Weirder things had happened. He'd made a few calls after the tenth interview and spoken to an old friend in Vegas who forwarded him some information about a couple people he knew in Chicago. It turned out Joseph knew a lot more people than he thought he did. Some were even legal after many years of being dirty. Money could buy you a lot of things and a clean slate was definitely one of those. Joseph had money no doubts about that but what he didn't have was good credit because he'd spent so long living off the radar, he needed to build it before he could go about requesting loans and the various other things he needed before he went about pursuing his dream of becoming a legal self-employed worker. It might have seemed like a pie in the sky kind of idea but Joseph usually got what he wanted, mostly through hard work and perseverance. Disappointment was inevitable, the important thing was not to give up and just keep trying. He'd survived a lot worse, a hell of a lot worse. It would happen, it just took time. Until then he would find work, one way or another. | ||||||||||
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July 24th, 2008
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| Chicago... A long ways from Vegas but still very much alive and powerful beneath leather clad heels, a pulse if you will. Joseph had always had the knack for finding it in any city, it mapped a rhythm out beneath the city itself and in a way pulled people in one direction or another. The rhythm he felt pulled him in the direction of a new apartment block, a man needed a place to sleep after all. There was something about the city that felt so much like home that it made him ache, he'd put his finger on what it was eventually, but for now it reminded him of so many things. It was cleaner than New York and not quite as crazy as Vegas, but Joseph had counted not one but several different looking people and that boded well, very well. Not to mention Chicago's very long history of organised crime, Joseph didn't think he'd have a problem finding work of some sort. Every city had its underbelly and every city had things it wanted that no ordinary person could get. Joseph could, he'd always been able to. "I'll take it," he muttered to the woman in front of him as his eyes swept across his new living space. Joseph believed in having his own space, in being apart from the rest of humanity and he also wanted somewhere for Rhiannon to come to in order to escape. He knew as much as she loved doing what she did she also liked being able to get away from it for the occasional hour or several depending on the circumstances. He thought this apartment on Rush Street was a good compromise given its proximity and distance from Lincoln Park. That and it was his kind of place, nothing but fun and entertainment after the lights went out or so he'd been led to believe. She turned and smiled at him. "You planning on staying in Chicago long?" Joseph's lips twitched in the corners. "For as long as I need to." His new landlady wasn't sure how to take that but decided it was better not to ask and simply nodded her head, going into an explanation about rules, rent and maintenance. Joseph wasn't really listening, it was usually the same in every city: keep the place clean, anything you break you pay for, rent needs to be paid and no loud parties. He'd heard it a hundred times before. It was always the same, it never changed. "Rent," Joseph said as he held out a wad of bills, head sticking out of a window to look at the view. "For the first two months." His landlady - Donna - blinked, but took the money gladly. "Thanks for that, don't usually get it so prompt." "I like to pay my dues," Joseph advised her before he turned on his heel to face her. "So... what's the night life like in this place?" | ||||||||||
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July 20th, 2008
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| July 2013 Las Vegas, Nevada From what Joseph can understand of what Rhiannon's just told him is that there's something wicked happening down in Chicago, the news of the disaster wasn't just news, it was something else; a portal of some sort. Could even be raining down a plethora of monsters, all set to try and take Chicago apart from the inside out. Vegas is Vegas and Rhiannon, well, she's something else. Could she get 'Vegas' out of Vegas? Well, sure, she could. All she had to do was ask. Life was about change anyways and Vegas would always be there, just a couple stops away and he'd never have to worry about transport. He was self sufficient like that. Not that Joseph had ever claimed to be a demon hunter or anything of the sort, but he knew Rhiannon was and if Chicago was where she needed to be then Chicago was where they were going to go. Joseph's picked up and moved so many times in his life that one more isn't going to kill him and besides it'll be good to get a change of scenery. Vegas has been a little crazier than usual since the mass media explosion and Joseph could do with stretching his legs. That and knew he wouldn't have a problem with work in Chicago, might even fit in and find himself a handful of clients to go on with. He'd never had to worry before. Looks like it was time to move on. | ||||||||
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June 8th, 2008
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| [[Non Journal Entry]] "Can you believe this?" Joseph turned his head and lifted an eyebrow at the man sat to his right who was gesturing towards the television and at the replacement show for Jerry Springer with the title: 'My girlfriend was a vampire and I never knew it'. "What do you mean?" The guy waved his arms. "That those things were out there and we never even knew it! Jesus, look at that thing." Joseph looked back at the television. "I don't know, she could look worse." "You think she gives good head?" Joseph choked on the whiskey he'd just swallowed. | ||||||||
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surprisedMay 16th, 2008
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| [[Non Journal Entry]] Joseph meandered along the Las Vegas sidewalk, head tilted to one side as he looked at the pair of cuffs he’d managed to steal off one of the hapless agents. Those boys hadn’t been kidding judging by the locking mechanism He sniffed, wiped away a trace of crimson red, and then opened up a lighter to light a cigarette. The smoke escaped him and Joseph paused, taking one last look at the cuffs, before they were promptly trashed. The guy hadn’t even gotten as far as Rhiannon, the cuff hadn’t even gone around Joseph’s wrist before Joseph had head butted him thus enabling his escape. He tipped his head at his fingers and noticed they were already beginning to bruise, he’d have to wrap them when they got home because he was sure one was broken. He glanced over his shoulder as a cold breeze seemed to creep under his collar and a shiver worked the length of his spine. Joseph hunched up and stepped off to the right, disappearing into shadow, all except for the muted glow of his still burning cigarette. Maybe he wasn’t being followed but it never hurt to be careful, especially after the night he’d had. There was something to be said for being paranoid, a hell of a lot, actually. Joseph waited until that bad feeling in the pit of his stomach had passed and continued on his way, letting Vegas swallow him. It had a way of doing that, if you let it. | ||||||||||
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awakeMay 5th, 2008
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| [[Non Journal Entry]] “We got a deal?” “Yeah, we have a deal.” “Good, get it done tonight and I’ll have your money by morning.” There’s a slight pause in the conversation and a slow inhale of smoke. “Remember, you talk to nobody. Not right now. It isn’t safe.” Paranoia seeps in, like it does with every conversation these days. “I get that.” “You sure?” A roll of blue eyes and a stolen drag of another’s cigarette. “Yes, I’m sure.” “Good.” There’s a hand and it’s patting the younger man’s cheek, like he would if he was family. “Dude.” Somebody laughs low and soft before it’s muffled by a small coughing fit, one too many cigarettes and some have finally gotten into the corners of lungs. “Just get it done.” “I will.” | ||||||||||
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March 29th, 2008
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| Joseph had come back from running errands and various other chores he had to do as part of his lifestyle to a message from Rhiannon. She sounded… distant, in a way he hadn’t heard since he’d come back. Maybe he was overreacting but in his gut he knew something wasn’t right. He’d simply grabbed a fresh packet of cigarettes and a fresh clip for his gun before he’d headed back out. Rhiannon’s directions were easy enough to follow, given that where they were supposed to meet wasn’t that far from her apartment. And anybody who lived in Vegas knew where the rail-yard was, even as quiet and abandoned as some of those lines were, everybody knew them. Hell, there were a ton of stories about them. People saw weird things at night; some claimed they’d seen ghosts of all those people who had at a desperate time thrown themselves onto the tracks and others who were simply unfortunate enough to be involved in an accident. Joseph believed pretty much anything, given that vampires were real and demons existed. Believing in ghosts wasn’t that hard of a leap. Joseph drove his car at a slow even pace, glancing in his rear-view mirror to make sure he wasn’t being tailed. Maybe he was being paranoid, but after that guy in the building opposite to his and the strange shadow behind his every footstep, he wasn’t willing to take the risk that he was followed. It was as if the Las Vegas of bright lights and glamour faded into shades of monochrome black and whites, slipping from the present into a past that felt forgotten in amongst the darkened rail tracks and the scattered remains of a history built up a long time before he’d even come to the City of Sin. Maybe it was because it was so late that everything felt heavier and darker or maybe it was a reflection of the time, freedom and civil liberty threatened by the so called government put into place to protect them. He drove that much further into the rail-yard and pulled the car into park, tyres crunching against the uneven ground until they settled into the stillness of the world around them. Joseph slid out of his car and glanced over his shoulder, pleased to find that there was nobody behind him, nothing but him and the rail-yard. Joseph closed his door and walked around his car, settling denim against the hood before bowing his head to light a cigarette. [Thread: Open to Rhiannon] | ||||||||||
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thoughtfulMarch 24th, 2008
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| [[Non Journal Entry]] Body disposal, a messy job, but it had to be done. Joseph had been through countless and one more wasn’t enough to disturb his calm demeanour as he washed blood from his hands. You would think that it wouldn’t be easy to get used to having another person’s blood on your hands, but it was. Always too easy. The guy had told Joseph everything, from his mother’s maiden name to what he’d last had to eat and finally what Joseph had wanted to know: who he was and why he was watching him. It would seem the government had their sights on him and not in a good way. Apparently that letter he’d thrown in the trash had been his ticket into something big and something that looked set to sweep over Las Vegas like a desert storm. He’d gotten Rhiannon’s message and knew as much as he could without having been there himself to be spectator to the circus. Joseph wouldn’t join, he barely operated within the law as it was and he’d already gotten out of one organised gang he didn’t much feel like joining another. Life would be difficult, he knew that much. He knew how these sorts of people worked; they found stuff out and used it against you. Twisted your life inside and out until everything was a mangled mess of what it had been once. Joseph Tropiano was on their black list and he knew he had to be ready for anything including attempts on his life and attacks on those closest to him. Sure, he was part of this supernatural world that inhabited Las Vegas and he knew a lot more than most civilians, but he wasn’t a fighter for either side. He was deliberately neutral, except when it came down to the people who mattered. People like Rhiannon. He lifted his head and looked at his reflection, catching the stain of crimson across his neck, the guy had hidden a knife in his shoe and Joseph had realised thirty seconds too late. Thankfully the guy was a piss poor shot so the knife hadn’t gone deep enough to cause significant harm. Joseph switched the water off and reached out, dragging a towel over his hands and lifting it to his neck, stemming the flow. “Dio, odio il governo,” Joseph grumbled, reaching out to flick the light switch until his entire apartment was bathed in darkness. [OOC: Dio, odio il governo = God, I hate the government] | ||||||||||
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exhaustedMarch 23rd, 2008
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| [[Non Journal Entry]] There are moments in life where you’re defined as a person, some of them are large in meaning and others insignificant in their passing. Joseph has had many moments where he’s proven the kind of man he is and they haven’t always been great or wonderful. Sometimes he looks at himself in the mirror and sees a shadow, almost as if the devil is only one foot behind him, just waiting for him to fuck up again so he can lay claim to a soul that’s been tarnished one too many times. He’s a religious man but he doesn’t necessarily believe in Heaven and Hell, but he does believe in good and evil and the way in which a person can swing between the two. There is no judgement just a simple form of coming to terms, everybody needs to dig deep and do things that aren’t always the right thing. It’s how the world keeps turning. Joseph drops his head and beneath the spray of water, closing his eyes and opening his mouth to taste water. It’s only when the phone ring that he turns his head and regretfully pulls himself away, fingers snagging on a nearby towel to wrap it around his hips until it sits low enough to expose hipbones. He steps out and rakes his hair back, moving through to his living room to pick up his nearby cell-phone. “Joseph,” he mutters, voice low and accented through a haze of smoke that now encircles him as a cigarette hangs from the roughened edges of his fingers. “Yeah?” Joseph exhales and flicks ash aside, pacing restlessly. “I can do that. Give me about two days and then see me at the Lucky Strike.” A couple more words are exchanged before Joseph ends the call, gaze catching on the case that holds the gun he’d gotten for Grace. Funny she’d never called back. Joseph leaves his cigarette between his lips and steps away, shedding his towel as he slips into his bedroom and goes on the hunt for clothes. There was work to be done amongst other things. It was only when he notices something out of the corner of his eye that he stops, eyebrow twitching. What the…? He turns and frowns. Is somebody watching him? Joseph does what he does best in a situation like this: acts natural and plans his next move. He dresses and picks up the nearest weapon, preferably something close combat. It’s a knife, slips into the back of his jeans easily enough. He pulls on a t-shirt and finds shoes then leaves his apartment, hopefully the peeping tom hasn’t seen him or if they have they might think he’s leaving for the day. It doesn’t take Joseph long to get into the building across the street and up the required flight of stairs, he counted them when he noticed the person watching him. Whoever it is, is on the second floor and behind the door that is three from the left. It doesn’t take long for Joseph to pick his way into the lock and it’s with a resounding crack that he brings the other man to the ground. He’s wearing a suit, that’s new. Joseph pulls the knife from his jeans and steps back, pushing the door shut. He’s going to get answers, one way or another. | ||||||||||
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January 30th, 2008
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| [[Non Journal Entry]] No sane man would be awake right now, but then Joseph had never been claimed to be sane. Couldn’t be, not with what he did for a living, and what he’d done in the past. He’d spent hours pacing his apartment, replaying New Year’s Eve in his head until he’d tangled himself up so much that all he seemed able to do was trip over the tangled knots he’d made of both his head and heart. He figured that the saying ‘idle hands are the devil’s tools’ was much the same for an idle person, what ifs and buts could drive a man insane, if he let them. He had work to do, and a man called Sam to slap upside the head. It was taking too long and he had a client with what he sensed to be a limited patience span. Joseph hunched up against the chill in the air and lifted his hood to cover his head, braving the cool Vegas night air, letting the momentum work off his wayward thoughts. It wasn’t long until he was stood outside of Sam’s apartment, fingers curled into a fist until his knuckles rapped heavily and loudly against the door. “Sam, open the goddamn door.” “Joseph? That you?” Joseph rolled his eyes. “Nah, man. It’s the fucking tooth-fairy.” “Hah, hah,” Sam drawled. “Real funny.” The sound of locks snapping out of place filled the damp narrow space of what passed as the hallway. It was only after the door opened that Joseph was greeted by the sight of Sam in nothing but a pair of briefs that had obviously seen better days. “Okay, first of all, you’re never getting laid with underwear like that. Secondly, where the fuck is the item I asked you for?” “I have it, I have it!” Sam protested as he waved his hands in the air. “But y’know you wanted all this fancy shit and that stuff takes time. Can’t get stuff like this from anywhere.” Joseph reached up and pulled his hood off his head, cocking his head to one side before lifting an eyebrow. “So, where is it?” Sam held up a finger than scurried off in the direction of his bedroom, leaving Joseph to take a seat on his couch, the couch that appeared to move after a slight shift of weight. “Woah,” Joseph muttered as there was a low growl emanating from what he had thought was a blanket but apparently it was an abnormally large and rather fat cat. “I’ll just stand,” Joseph remarked to the cat as he peeled himself back to his feet, scratching at his eyebrow. “Sam?” “Coming!” Joseph waited and waited until Sam came back with a wooden box, presenting it to Joseph. “Just what you ordered.” Joseph reached out and took the box, resting it on a nearby table as he unclasped the locks, inhaling a small breath at the black and silver Desert Eagle set beautifully against silver velvet. “Heh, you even got the wolf’s head on the butt of the gun.” Sam nodded his head, beaming with pride. “Course I did, couldn’t customise it though. Think you’re gonna have to do that yourself.” Joseph closed the box and turned to Sam. “I’ll swing by in a couple days with your payment, alright?” “Yeah, man.” Sam grinned. “I know you pay so I ain’t even worried.” Joseph smiled. “You’re a genius and if I wasn’t already hung up on somebody else I might even kiss you.” Sam pulled a face at the thought. “Thank God for the other woman.” Joseph gave a laugh before he collected the box. “Guess I’ll let you get back to whatever it was you were doing before I interrupted.” He chanced a look in the direction of Sam’s bedroom and grimaced. “I don’t think I want to know.” “Hey!” Joseph snorted and was out of the apartment before Sam even so much as got another word out. He pulled the hood back up and rummaged out his phone, flipping it open to put a number in he’d memorised for the sake of cutting down on paper. “Grace, it’s Joseph. I have what you wanted.” Joseph paused but only for a moment, just long enough to light a cigarette. “Lemme know when you can meet me.” The call was ended and Joseph’s thumb hovered over speed dial before he took the plunge as it were, he pressed the number and waited. “Rhi, it’s Joseph. I need to see you before we clear out that nest, alright? I know you probably don’t wanna hear this but I can’t get that kiss out of my head and I really don’t want to. So… call me, alright? Or swing by, whichever.” Joseph ended the call before he said anything else and then took one unhealthy inhale of smoke before exhaling it out, shifting his shoulders. “Fuck, it’s cold.” He hated the cold, always had, it never settled well with him. | ||||||||||
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January 15th, 2008
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| [[Non Journal Entry]] “How’s he doing?” Joseph asked as he leaned down and kissed Becky’s cheek. She took a shaky breath and lifted an arm, curling it around Joseph’s neck. “He’s alive, thanks to you.” Joseph slid an arm around her waist and offered her some comfort and reassurance with the physical gesture. “Just did what you asked me to do, Becky.” He leaned back and smiled at her before gesturing, “Sit.” He picked up the clipboard at the end of Ben’s bed and took a quick look at it, picking out the details he could understand while ignoring the medical mumbo jumbo that he couldn’t. “You taking him home soon?” Becky nodded her head, reaching out to take her son’s hand. “Yeah, doctor said he can go home in a couple days. Just needs a lot of bed rest.” She chuckled weakly and softly. “It was fun, trying to avoid the questions.” Joseph’s lips twitched in the corner. “I can imagine. Been there myself.” He reached up and scratched at his neck, feeling himself shiver with the memory. “You know they’ll come for him again, right?” Becky’s face told Joseph everything he needed to know. He wandered over and covered her shoulder with his hand. “I’ll take care of it, Becky.” His grip tightened and he looked over at Ben’s sleeping form. “I’ll make sure nobody comes after him again.” She reached up and took a hold of his hand, squeezing softly. “Thank you, Joseph. For everything.” “You’ve done more for me,” he assured her before he took one last look at Ben. “I’d better go; I have some people I need to see.” Joseph leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Take care of yourself and I’ll check in when all of this is over.” He turned his head and whispered quietly, “keep your doors locked and don’t invite anyone in,” into her ear before he withdrew from her. Becky simply nodded and Joseph left the hospital room, pulling his phone from his pocket as he dialed a number and let it ring as soon as his booted feet hit pavement. “Sam? I need to see you, again. Cancel whatever other appointments you have, I promise I’ll make this worth your while.” He hung up the call and dialed another, one he was unfamiliar but yet so familiar with. “Rhi, it's Joseph. Just checking in and saying I hope you're enjoying the New Year.” He allowed for a pause before clearing his throat. “Anyways, call me? I have something I need to talk to you about. Take care.” Joseph slung his phone and slid into his car, starting the engine before drawing away and into the heart of Las Vegas. | ||||||||||
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January 14th, 2008
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| [[Non Journal Entry]] After the kiss and the party Joseph had driven Rhiannon back to her apartment and said goodnight with one last lingering kiss and a smile, leaving her to head back inside as he turned and slid back into his car. He could have gone home, but he chose not. Instead, Joseph drove through Vegas and watched the fluorescent lights and the people that milled on the sidewalks, wondering how they had spent their New Year eve and if they’d kissed somebody at midnight. Had it meant as much? Joseph wasn’t even aware he’d driven out of Vegas until he lost sight of all the glamour and found the bare barren stretches of desert, they went on for miles and he couldn’t see sight of another human being. He pulled the car to a stop and lingered in the driver’s seat for a long moment, turning the mask over in his fingers before he tossed that onto the passenger seat, smiling a little at the traces of red and gold glitter that lingered on the dark interior. Joseph eased out of the car and shivered ever so slightly as the cool night breeze tickled his skin and whispered things to him - sweet nothings - things he was convinced he’d never hear again. He reached upwards and loosened his tie, pulling it free and letting it catch in the breeze, stepping back to watch the silk material twist and spin; almost as if it was dancing. He slid up onto the hood of his car and settled his back against the windscreen, drawing a leg up towards his chest before he simply dropped his head back and closed his eyes. If he focused enough he could taste her and remember how every one of her curves had felt, and the scary thing was that kissing her felt like coming home. Joseph could have gone home and slept, but he hadn’t wanted to; hadn’t wanted to forget anything about tonight. He opened his eyes and then rummaged in his jacket, pulling out his cigarettes, contemplating them for only a brief moment, before giving in and lighting one. His lips parted and a slow exhale of smoke filled the space above his head and it was through the murky grey that Joseph watched as a new year dawned over Nevada, and what a year it would be. | ||||||||||
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January 13th, 2008
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| [Continued from The Masquerade Ball] Not one for social events such as this Joseph Tropiano was a rare face amongst a crowd more than accustomed to dining with the rich and the famous. He figured that given it was New Years Eve he should make some form of effort to acknowledge the last year and the year that lay ahead, wherever it would take him. He'd gone so far as to rent a pitch black suit and he was a striking figure, from the broad shoulders to the narrowing pants and the rich golden skin. Joseph had a certain sense of humour so instead of the masks that he could have chosen, he'd selected porcelain white half of a mask that resembled the one from the phantom of the opera. No one could ever fault Joseph's air for the dramatic. Joseph hung close to the edges, watching and sharing snippets of conversations with strangers, all of which were given with a charming smile and a confident demeanour. "Comin' through, look out!" Grace had squinted at the ad about the masquerade before saying to hell with it and deciding to attend. Costumes were not normally her thing, but she did like a good party when she could find one. Parties meant booze if nothing else, and a night out never got old. She'd found a plain black mask amid the chaos of her belongings, and she wove her way through the crowd before swiping a drink from a passing waiter's tray. The vampire promptly backed into someone while trying to avoid a collision with another server carrying a full tray of small sandwiches, and she turned on one foot. "Sorry," she said tersely. "Crowds make me clumsy, I guess." Joseph arched an eyebrow as a woman backed straight into him before his lips parted into a slow smile. "Don't worry about it." He glanced at his attire then lifted a rich brown gaze to the other woman's face. "It's not like I stand out too well." He finished off his drink and rested the empty glass on a nearby tray, stealing another drink for himself. "You alright now? All steadied up?" ( Randomly Falling ) ( Business Or Pleasure? ) ( Specifications ) | ||||||||
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January 9th, 2008
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| After speaking with Grace at the party and discussing the business at hand, Joseph had taken it upon himself to wander outside to grab a cigarette and clear his head. As much as he loved parties and large crowds sometimes he just needed to get away and take a couple moments, to ground himself and figure out what he wanted to do next. However as he ventured outside he paused for a moment, tipping his head and giving a small smile as he instantly recognised the brunette stood off to one side, attempting to blend in with her surroundings. “Not feeling like celebrating the New Year with everybody else?” He asked as he shrugged out of his jacket and he stepped up behind her, laying it over her shoulders. “You’re going to miss the big midnight finale.” Joseph stepped back and tugged at his tie restlessly, loosening it enough until he was able to unfasten a couple buttons on his shirt. [Thread Open To Kate. Please note this takes place during the Masquerade Ball and occurs after the Joseph/Grace interaction.] | ||||||||||
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