bakerstreet | thursday pic prompt

[Since Xanxus had already decided that as soon as the whiskey bottle was gone, Cavallone would be too, there was no point in shooting him for that remark. But it didn't mean he would kick a boot against one of the unbalanced legs of the little stool the Bucking Horse was sitting on as he recrossed his legs. Petty, him? Of course.

While he didn't much care what Cavallone remembered so long as he kept the events of the Battle for the Rings to himself, it was interesting to know that the shitty shark had that much pull with the Cavallone boss. It hadn't gone unnoticed that he had saved Squalo from becoming one with his spirit animal, and there was the matter of the eight years he'd been locked away in ice. Had more things transpired between them?]

For him and not for my birthday, is it?

[He leaned forward, eyes half lidded and dark as they took in Cavallone's expression. With barely a gesture, he had both of their cups refilled.

It's not even worth commenting on that 'a war he couldn't win' sounded like a challenge and definitely how he wanted to go.]

For your birthday...? [ Excuse a soon-battered horse the drunken installment of evening bitterness. Or maybe it's the creeping hole in his cup, born of grasping the thing too keenly and not letting the recipient's rings relax back to form. ] No. I'm doing too many favours, of late.

[ And the scant drops of whiskey he's earning for it in between the juggling act of balancing his stool after Xanxus' kick — they're barely worth it. He sighs (again; with feeling; shut up; it's habit) and rights himself in his seat once more, downing his liquor with an ugly look at Xanxus' leg, then throwing the cap at an impolite distance behind him. Some Varia out there's playing housekeeper - Dino's got to keep him in business.

After, he's down to thug mores again, pointedly lifting his hand and rolling down his sleeve for the display of a long strip of spoil-bruises bluing his arm to the elbow. ]

Here's a favour. This is Vongola's new Cloud. [ A calling card, really, and Dino stuck trafficking it back to Rome. ] I'm not sure just what Japan feeds them.

[ Middle-schoolers really shouldn't come out like this, and hapless Cavallone shouldn't be tricked about their gentleness to babysit them, for fuck and hell and Dino's collective sake. ]

[Oh, now that was interesting. The Bucking Horse complained and meddled and smiled like an idiot more often than not, so seeing that sour look on his face was rather refreshing. Xanxus propped his cheek up with a fist, making a note to look more into the Cavallone's dealings to see just what exactly he had been referring to. Asking would only complicate matters.

Instead he downed his cup again, turning to grab some food off of a tray one of the waitstaff was carting around, shoving it into his mouth gracelessly.

The bruises aren't of much interest to Xanxus, though surprisingly he does remember the Vongola's Cloud Guardian. Not many would call him a 'king of the monkeys' to his face, and the bloodlust he had displayed was promising.

Normally, such a shameful display would have made Xanxus cackle out loud hideously, but since he had also been beaten soundly by a Japanese middle schooler, he shouldn't judge. But he was going to.]

Masochist.

[Because why do a favor if you didn't want to?]

Should I take him off your hands?

[ Ah, there it is. The tell-tale nose wrinkling of a snake locating the vibration of opportunity. If Xanxus could be counted on for even distant acquaintance with 'subtlety', Dino might alert him that he's gravely missing the present mark on the count. As things stand, it probably never occurred to wannabe-don Varia that you shouldn't disclose all your cards before playing them.

Dino's sleeve fights the gentle roll down, but inevitably surrenders, cocooning the ugly stains on his arm once more. Recently earned — for all his whining, he makes a point of visiting Japan now and then for Tsuna's peace of mind, Reborn's whims and the rare days when Hibari Kyouya's bereft of his punching bag.. Unlike Xanxus, he neglects the food, but instead takes the time to survey his men (silent, awkwardly subjected to Varia ridicule, sober).

Then, back to his smile: ]

Xaaaaaaaaanxuuuuuuuuusssssssss...[ He may or may not be lengthening the whine for the birthday boy's pleasure. He hopes it's appreciated. ] if you're looking to couch your vendetta as my commission, I'm afraid the answer will have to be N-O.

[ 'Take him off your hands'. Really. As if Xanxus isn't already hot for the shadow of a formal excuse to batter a Vongola. Any Vongola. And to think he's not even offering to pay Dino for the potential favour of giving him the chance. ]

Sorry, sorry. Why don't you boys just get along, instead?

[If by 'appreciated' Dino wanted it to irritate the hell out of Xanxus, it would be granted. Uncharitably, he poured more of the whiskey into his paper cup instead of Dino's, frowning at him slightly.]

I wouldn't kill him.

[He kept his word, after all, though coming from someone as twisted as Xanxus, that probably wasn't much of a comfort.]

[ 'Wouldn't kill him'. Yes. That's right. Likely, even at the present stage of Hibari Kyouya's training, he'd take most of the Varia down in the assignment. Maybe not the big man, who seems child-soft and small as he drains away his whiskey like a bucket with a hole. Might as well have courted him with a $5.99 convenience store six-pack, at the rate Xanxus is depleting his gift. Not, in the end, that it matters. Once you've teased the Italian tax code long enough, it'll spread for you with all its charm-opportunities of expensing your luxury items.

With great courage and a modest death wish, Dino reaches out to slowly — in the way one might approach a spooked horse — pat Xanxus' shoulder in solidarity. ]

I know. You're a good man. Good men keep their promises.

[ That's right. Look here at this gentlemanly appreciation. Look here and admire and don't at all bite, shoot, saw, severe or otherwise explode his hand off. ]

[Hopefully Dino had already made arrangements for letting the Cloud Guardian he was so fond of take over that Family of his, because even when plied with good booze, it didn't mean anyone was safe from Xanxus' wrath. The touch as well as being called 'a good man' sounded more condescending than gentlemanly appreciation.

So hopefully the Bucking Horse would duly appreciate Xanxus' unblinking stare as he went to kick the stool out from under him.]

[ It turns out that the Cavallone family — like China's economic growth and the sex tape-addled young adulthood of child pop stars — never quite picked up the subtleties of a graceful fall.

He doesn't so much land on his derriere as he abides by his contractual obligation to transform every Varia floor into the stage of his battered and bruised tragedy. He falls. He whines. He whimpers. He takes the little stool with him, legs tangling with the chair's. He whines again, possibly with feeling, though likelier out of contractual obligation with the known universe.

And he prioritises, barely lifting his head to peer not at Xanxus but at the untroubled bottle of whiskey beside him. Good, good. Mustn't upset the liquor.

His head falls back on the floor with a gentle thud, life and its countless inconveniences passing before his eyes along with the bone-deep surety that somewhere out there, Reborn knows. And points. And laughs.

His sigh's a deep thing, claws his chest. (Figures.) ]

You know, Xanxus. [ What a nice ceiling. He should stare at it more. ] You know... that wasn't very nice of you. [ And lightly: ] I'm a guest in your home, trusting your hospitality. And this is what I get.

[Though Xanxus would say otherwise, he knew that Dino Cavallone was in fact, an intelligent man. He had managed to turn his Family's lot around in a few years, where previous generations had failed miserably. He had been selected to be tutored by the Greatest Hitman in the World. He had managed to reinvent himself from the crybaby who was bullied endlessly to a well-respected figure in mafia society.

One wouldn't be able to tell that by looking at him now, and Xanxus took no shortage of perverse pleasure in treating Cavallone exactly how he should be treated. Normal people might contribute it to reverting back to middle school antics, but Xanxus had never really left middle school in terms of maturity.

Besides, if Cavallone was so smart, he should know exactly what kind of hospitality one could expect in the Varia Castle.

Xanxus watched impassively as Cavallone lay prostate on the floor, instead pouring himself more whiskey.]

Get over it.

['It could be worse' he could say, but since Cavallone seemed so touchy about threats today, he would refrain for the most part.]

Are you going to lie there all day?

[It would probably be for the best, considering any time he provoked Xanxus again he was just going to kick him over again.]

[ ...look at him, watching the world burn, emperor in his dissolving clothes. If he weren't busy setting his liver to preserve on overpriced liquor, Xanxus might cut a decent picture.

As things are, Dino must (silently) protest. ]

I was thinking about it. Me. The mud on your shoes. [ Leather. Good leather, the kind a father teaches his son to pick out for the slick sheen and the lack of wrinkling around the push of a finger. Whatever Timoteo's sins, his beanstalk of a boy's had it better than he thinks. ] We're having ourselves a good time.

[ He smiles around that, no teeth, gums at the back bleeding. No bite. His hand shoots up, fishing for purchase — O ye of little Cavallone faith, just you wait until you're back in the family's headquarters — then withdraws when he finds none. He mutters. Mumbles. Watches the ceiling and the flicker of Levi's hair in the horrifying periphery.

And finally, he pulls himself up and together (in any order), settling into his wrinkled suit with the bleary-eyed confidence of a morning creeper running the week's fifth walk of shame. He finds himself stalling again (good tactic, all things running now impossible). ]

...look here, now. I wouldn't want it said I'm too cheap for a proper gift. If you want a — [ Bloody interlude that ends with half of Italy torn down and Xanxus summarily schooled. ] — conversation with Reborn about... everything... I can try to make some arrangements. For your birthday.

[ He's not earning the scraps from Reborn's table as his secretary fee unless he's booking some appointments, after all. And it can never hurt for Italy's two strongest forces to clear the air (other than of all things Squalo-fishy.) ]

[If Xanxus were in a particularly vindictive mood, and honestly when was he not, he would have let the weak stomached and weak hearted Don Cavallone know just what exactly was on his shoes. However, as amusing as it was to watch him flail about and sulk, the liquor must have been having it's desired effect.

Generously, he had a lackey right the stool ( but not help the Bucking Horse up, that was what Cavallone's bodyguards were for ). He reached over to refill Dino's cup, leaning back to sip at his own drink as if savoring the idea of fighting Reborn. The man fell in a gray area as someone he could kill or couldn't. He had said he would leave Sawada Tsunayoshi and his ilk alone, but Reborn was the Ninth's man before he was anyone else's.

There were worse ways to go then fighting the world's self-proclaimed Greatest Hitman, and it might soothe the sting of losing to a bunch of middle schoolers. Anyone trained by Reborn seemed more willy than at first glance, as the man on the floor could attest.]

How generous of you, Cavallone.

[Though it was said dryly and without an ounce of gratitude.]

Why the change of heart?

[Hadn't he just been told not to go after Reborn? Not that Xanxus was the type to turn down a challenge or a fight.]

[ Oh. His stool! There's a good old boy, having that nonsense sorted — why, the more Dino thinks about it, between deploying careful feelers to the back of his mouth to see if teeth've gone dislodged, the more he reckons Xanxus and I are coming to something close to an understanding. It's like dealing with a monkey: screaming, a cheerful disposition, and inevitably showing your ass will work social wonders.

( Update: they will not be sharing bananas in the immediate future. ) ]

Hold on, hold on. I mean an... actual... conversation.

[ Possibly spiced by Reborn's understandable urge to bash Xanxus' face in, but without making that commitment. Even Reborn boasts days when the sky's grey, the milk man is too depressed over his extinct profession to call out his greetings, and someone else fills in half the daily crossword puzzle. Sometimes, a (hit)man can't be counted on for mayhem.

The aforementioned stool earns a fond pat before Dino takes it over again, firmly planting his feet on the floor and leaning towards Xanxus with the chipper posture of an octogenarian. The cup, then, alcohol chasing that hint of a scratch in his mouth since he'd shamefully bitten the inside of his cheek during his fall. Now, let's all be good friends here. ]

Just talking. Between the two of you. Work out some terms. Reborn is — [ Hell-borne. ] — not unreasonable. There's nothing to say the Varia can't work out a good arrangement, while the new Vongola brigade earns its stripes. It would be... [ Taking advantage, blatantly and brazenly. ] ...understandable if you decided to raise your tariffs for services rendered at this time. I'm not saying charge obscenely, but...

[ The airy wave of his free hand, because, really, Charge obscenely. Reborn would be sensitive enough to the political climate to concede a compensatory rate for the Varia and balm Xanxus' feelings. Not to say that Dino approves of putting a fellow Don through the financial wringer, but peace is worth a healthy stream of euros. ]

[( But will they be flashing each other their asses though, that's the more important question. )

If Dino had been hoping to offer a better birthday gift, conversation wasn't it. As far as Xanxus was concerned, most conversations were useless and a waste of time. People would lie like the day was long. Fights however, were far more entertaining and interesting.

Similarly, the thought of money wasn't as convincing. True, the Varia needed revenue, but it wasn't as if their skills alone wouldn't bring them work again.

He narrowed his eyes, watching Cavallone with a slight frown. He placed the bottle heavily on the table between them.]

I'm not interested in money.

[Spoken like a true spoiled brat who had been ( mostly ) raised in the lap of luxury.]

I could always cut out the middle man.

[Because clearly that would end well, but mostly it was said to test the waters and see how the Bucking Horse flailed.]

[ The kicking, the insults, the troubling scent of hormone-challenged teenagers oozing from every Varia nook and cranny — none of it smarts with the surgical precision of an accidental jab at Dino's diplomatic success. Everything else is about Xanxus' frustrations; this is targeted, personal. Quaint.

It has, inevitably, the desired effect: an empty smile bristling from the line of his mouth. The slow shake of Dino's head, war-torn between nod, rejection, and every other gesture of polite appeasement second-graders pick up while trying to stay awake during Sunday Mass.After ( he's done contemplating which LEGO man-body Xanxus' unsocketed head would fit best ), he waves again, this time in invitation: ]

...by all means, signore. Go ahead.

[ Negotiate with Reborn on these playground terms, and see what he makes of Xanxus' toys. Dino spies them now from the corner of his eyes, each drunken body in turn: Belphegor and Leviathan would see their tongues cut within the first few minutes of Reborn's arrival. Squalo'd be a keepsake, because Reborn rewards loyalty, and a man who can make do without his true-born hand should be investigated for what other limbs he can shed lightly. Mammon would be... a private matter. And Lussuria might survive the encounter, for his sheer virtue of being at once formidable and forgettable.

There is no future, past, or deus ex bullet setup in which Reborn sip-sipping his double espresso with the Varia could go terribly well without an ample supply of pistachio biscotti and mediation. But don't let Dino's smug smile push that point. ]

Normally, I wouldn't have to say this — [ Because, normally, his interlocutor wouldn't have the emotional intelligence of an overachieving cross between a nuclear bomb and an amoeba. ] — but I'm being a friend to you right now. Ask Squalo: I'm not a loan shark.

[Ah, so it seemed even good-natured Dino Cavallone had sore spots, and it was as gratifying to know one as the taste of the whiskey on his tongue. To say that Xanxus was a bit petty might be a bit of an understatement.

He watched the expressions play out on the Bucking Horse's face, taking more leisurely sips of the whiskey, his own face impassive. The problem with telling an assassin that doing something might kill him was particularly true in Xanxus' case: it was threatening him with a good time. Varia members, much less the boss, were never destined to live into old age, and most wouldn't want to anyway. Best to go out by someone with actual strength, in the middle of a battle field, perhaps by someone you had grudging respect for.

There weren't many that Xanxus had a grudging respect for, so it didn't leave him many options.

He did crinkle his nose slightly when Cavallone called himself a 'friend', much like a middle school boy might react to being touched with someone who had 'cooties', leaning away.]

Good. No one needs any more shitty sharks around here.

[Wow he held Squalo in such high regard.

Still, if Cavallone was going to be so earnest, there was no point in continuing to needle him. When Xanxus was truly ready to fight Reborn, he'd do so. Until then-]

Send another case of this [and he was just going to hold up the whiskey bottle, oops was it half empty already?] and I'll consider it.

[ ...another case of a rare alcohol so punitively expensive even a mafia don would have to consider mortgaging his innards for the token bar shot. No. Never mind. Bootleg it is.

Some boys across the border will have a mighty fine time of replicating each and every strip of flavour, until the layered end-result satisfied Xanxus' pain-in-the-ass snobbery. The way he's chugging the original, it's hardly likely that this asshole will remember enough of the taste profile to tell the difference. An easy promise: smile and done and done.

Graciously, Dino picks himself up, the stool screeching as it's pushed back and slides across the floor. ]

Far from me to deny a man on his birthday.

[ His hand goes out again. He considers, briefly, the dramatic beauty of an earnest shake, the steadfast foundation of a sincere friendship. Then he considers the honourable service this arm has brought him in the past and his considerable affection for all five of his fingers staying relatively intact — and he withdraws the gesture, at the last moment pretending to nurture a non-existent itch at the back of his head.

Nodding's — safer, so nodding — and mean glances the way of the treacherous bodyguard trio that's somehow managed to keep a room's safe width away from him throughout this entire exchange— is par for the day's course. ]

Please don't worry. [ Really. Don't. ] I'll see myself out. [ And a polite pause, the grey smile after. ] I'm sure we'll... keep in touch.

How generous of you.

[Though the way 'generous' was said, it didn't sound like much of a compliment.

Xanxus watched that aborted movement with a small amount of interest, bringing the cup up to his lips to hide a small smirk. While there was the timeless question about being loved or feared, it was never a doubt what Xanxus would choose.

He raised his paper cup to Dino's attempt at a graceful retreat, smirking unabashedly.]

Squalo will show you out.

[Since the two of them were such great 'friends' after all.]

thursday pic prompt

excuse they already have a prince. he can be the whipping boy tho

......that's either a terrible or a sterling whip pun, be ashamed anyway

unfortunately i am not ashamed so where does that leave us. : O

in hell. possible with a handbasket. hope you're happy.

only if the handbasket is full of delicious snacks

why are you so high maintenance

it's a long trip so it has to be worth my while.

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fin?