[center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/019e7cbe-43dc-713a-9c31-7e0fc5f6a725.webp[/img][/CENTER][indent][sub][COLOR=9174cb][I]Eve[/I][/color][/sub][sup][right][COLOR=9174cb][b]Death and all her Friends - IV[/b] [i]Jason's Song [/i][/COLOR][/right][/sup][/indent][center][COLOR=dimgray][SUP][sub]_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sub][/SUP][/COLOR][/center]

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Jason Rafferty was thirty-seven on April 1st five years ago. He was an executive at a tech firm and would work right out of Northbridge. He was a good at his job in that he was exactly what you’d expect. Wife at home, girlfriend at the office, one night stands at the bars and when Jason wasn’t working, or fucking, he was getting way too deep into online communities and absorbing and spiraling into conspiracy theories. The Earth was flat, politicians were likely to be lizards and part of a greater plan for the world.  Grey’s were to blame for everything and everything terrible that had happened to Jason could be pinpointed right the way back to a Grey. Jason also had several favourite girlfriends at a Grey brothel called Hush-Hush and what he liked to do, or, have done to him there, was certainly to be kept hush hush indeed. When a compromising photo of Jason wound up in a sealed envelope on his desk, Jason and his paranoid mind assumed the mob was to blame and until that point, there had really been no reason at all as to why Jason would be targeted by the Raciti famiglia, but Jason had walked into a Little Italy deli one day and witnessed some extortion happening there and had quickly decided that he was from then a key witness to a serious crime and he would soon be fitted for cement shoes. (Jason also enjoyed True Crime podcasts and watching gritty television drama.)

The Raciti famiglia, to this day, have no recollection of his face in the deli that, but Jason never forgot.

So paranoid he became that the thought that any of the many, many, many, [i]many[/i] women he had slept with might have tried to blackmail him was simply too easy a thought; and besides, they’d never do that, he was God’s gift to the Earth and none of the women knew about each other because he was careful and they worshiped him and what reason would they have to try to get money from him or show the pictures of him to his wife?

Jason died believing that he was hit by the mob. The truth was, that Jason spent so long looking over his shoulder in his paranoia and neurosis that he forgot to look ahead of him and was hit by a bus instead and on his last day on Earth he looked like the inside of a jam sponge spread all down the sidewalk.

Ironically, his mind and memories and thoughts would wind up circling the Raciti famiglia in the end and the nonpublic information of his tech firm wound up in the hands of Silvio Raciti.

It was almost so cruel that it had to be a joke that his paranoia and obsession would be the thing that lived on.

[hr]
Eve had long come to terms with the fact that people in the world would find her strange. The coffee shop incident had stopped bothering her less than a minute after she’d left, and there was a part of her that was pleased her presence had made them uncomfortable and she smirked with the knowledge that no matter how crazy they found her, no matter how much they talked about her to each other, both of them, given even a crumb of chance, would jump at it to fuck her. So who really had the power? Tomorrow she’d go back and she’d do it again just to be a cunt and have them make her coffee like two good little boys.

It had been hours since and the cappuccino was gone and the cup sat empty on Eve’s coffee table next to a candle as she sat back in an armchair, magazine in hand. The last of the hangover had faded with time, hydration, and some sunlight and fresh air. It felt less like a cacophony now and more gentle chatter in the distance sitting below the sound of music playing through a small speaker set up on a bookcase. 

She had never fancied a turntable and vinyls before, but after sifting through Paloma’s life, she had been wondering if one would make a nice investment and a mental list of albums she wanted to buy and display was already beginning. She had done her best to make the apartment as presentable as possible as Silvio was on his way over and he had a habit of getting irked by her small messes and mindless clutter and she had made sure to hide today’s shopping haul in the back of her closet.

The door opened and there was a long and awkward moment of silence as he walked in, glancing left and right as something caused his eyes to narrow. “Eve,” Silvio sighed, snapping her out of the drifting thought as he let himself in. He always did. He’d only just stepped across the threshold of her space when he followed up, “What the fuck is that sound?” he asked in an exasperated and irritated way.

[COLOR=9174cb]“Enya,”[/color] Eve replied, barely lifting her gaze from the pages of her magazine as she skimmed the closing words of an article on the failure of the non-monogamy experiment. She was unsure of her own stance on it by that point, and whether she cared at all. Perhaps it was the article that had spiced up her spiteful train of thought some. [COLOR=9174cb]“You don’t like it?”[/color] she asked, standing up and walking over to him, placing a half kiss on either cheek with a half hug to go with it. A standard Italian hello.

“No,” he replied flatly. “No I do not.” He glanced around at the room, stepping in at last to watch as she flicked a switch to turn it off. A breath he had been holding left him, and his shoulders softened. “So what’s going on?” he asked, in the straightforward way he knew how to.

[color=6b7653]ᴴᵉʳᵉ ʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵉˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵘᵗⁱⁿᵉ. ᶠᵘⁿⁿʸ ʰᵒʷ ʰᵉ'ˢ ʰᵉʳᵉ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ ᵒᶠ ᵃˡˡ ᵈᵃʸˢ.[/color]
[COLOR=9174cb]“Just had a bad night. Too much to drink.”[/color]

“No shit. You called me six times–” his voice quietened and he looked over his shoulder to double check again that the door was closed. “Luca said there was a body. Talk to me, Eve.” She missed it, but there was an expectant glint in his eye.

[color=6b7653]ᵀᵉˡˡ ʰⁱᵐ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᶠᵘᶜᵏ ᵒᶠᶠ[/color]
She rubbed her temples and stepped into the kitchen; popping open a jar of biscotti and starting the routine of making them coffee. [COLOR=9174cb]“I don’t want to.”[/color] 

“What do you mean you don’t want to?” Silvio held a breath as he watched her hand tremble as she added the grounds to the pot.

[color=6b7653]ᴰᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʰⁱᵐ ˢʰⁱᵗ.[/color]
[COLOR=9174cb]“I just don’t.”[/color]

“You just don’t. [i]Jesus Christ[/i].” He lost his patience then and a flash of Silvio Raciti slipped through. He let the silence hang before he moved to step in and take over the coffee. “Let me do that honey,” he said, softer then. 

[COLOR=9174cb]“There wasn’t anything… Of interest.”[/color] she answered, lying, but daringly meeting his intense stare for a second. She sidestepped away from the pot, glad for his interruption, and for allowing her a moment to collect and mask the tell of a lie on her face. If she didn’t know the situation any better she’d have assumed this was his way of helping her with a small task. In reality, she just knew by now that Silvio and Joey and Ralph all thought her coffee came out like shit. They weren’t wrong. [COLOR=9174cb]“When I… You know, when I’m in the life of someone else. It’s like I become them, and this one was… [i]Normal.[/i]”[/color] she thought about explaining it to him further, to add details and depth and colour to the lie. [color=6b7653]ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ, ⁿᵒʷ ⁱˢⁿ'ᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ[/color] She reached for a biscotti. A thin pistachio and almond one and she snapped it in half.

Silvio sighed, flicking the machine on to begin running through the filter. “And there wasn’t anything at all?” [color=6b7653]ᵀʰᵉʳᵉ ⁱᵗ ⁱˢ. ˢᵃᵐᵉ qᵘᵉˢᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵗʷⁱᶜᵉ. ᵀʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ʰᵒʷ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵈᵒ ⁱᵗ.[/color] he asked again. She just shook her head. “Alright,” he said, almost disappointed. “Just you know, some body shows up in the street,” he shrugged, “fuckin' weird," he relented with a shrug as his mouth pulled into a slight frown.

Eve bit down on the biscotti. [color=6b7653]ⁱˢ ʰᵉ ᶠᵘᶜᵏⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵗᵘᵖⁱᵈ? ᴰᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵉ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ?[/color] [COLOR=9174cb]“It’s Calder City, dad, someone is always [i]showing up in the street[/i].”[/color]

He couldn’t argue against that and a faint smile appeared. Hell, he’d been the cause of some of them, one way or another, over the course of his own life. “You’re right. Whaddaya gonna do?” he said. “I was just worried about you, but Luca got you home alright?”

[COLOR=9174cb]“Mmhmm,”[/color] Eve answered, hardly able to remember seeing him, only knowing with a certainty that she had. 

“I don’t want you going to Harborlight again,” he said. Turning the subject to its adjacent topic. “Something went down there last night anyway,” he added, watching the coffee drip through the grounds and filter and into the glass. “It’s not safe for you to be there,” he looked at her. “Clearly it isn’t. If you’re going to drink Eve then… Just, find a local haunt around here for the time being.”

[color=6b7653]ᴼᶠ ᶜᵒᵘʳˢᵉ ʰᵉ'ᵈ ˢᵃʸ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵃᵗ, ʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ. ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵃˡˡᵒʷᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᶠᵘⁿ.[/color]
[COLOR=9174cb]“The Velvet Room, then.”[/color] Eve answered.

“Sure, The Velvet Room, just, not Harborlight, or anything along the Docks. I do business along there and you don’t need to be in the middle of it.” He was either oblivious to the drugs, or acting like he was. Eve was unsure which of the two was better for them both. 

Sometimes Eve wished they could address what they both knew and were aware of. She wondered from time to time about the fact they drew themselves like this, and wondered if this was always to be their path together. She wished to one day address that whatever and all it was that Eve did for Silvio, ate away at her, but that still she'd keep doing it. They'd dance around each other like this. Father and daughter, and worse than that too. She was holding on to the day that Silvio really saw the burden of it on her; recognised the hurt and toll and pushed his ambitions aside. 

Silvio wished he knew how.

He poured into two small, mismatching cups of the coffee and they sat in the lounge for a while and drank it down and shared other conversation instead. What each of them would do that night – he had to go to his club and help an associate with something vague that he deliberately omitted the details of. She told him she had plans to take a bath, order thai food, and watch reality TV and maybe a movie if she could stay awake that long. He seemed relieved that her plans didn't involve leaving the apartment.

They made plans for the following Sunday at Medaglia's again as they hovered in the doorway for the elongated Italian goodbye, they shared a joke about Cosima. "Wonder what she'll have?" Silvio asked.

[COLOR=9174cb]"Oh, probably the baccalà. She's adventurous you know."[/color] Eve answered and forced out the familiar laugh with it like it was the first time the joke had been told and was entirely original.

[hr]
Silvio had left hours ago, and, for her part, she [i]had[/i] ordered in her dinner, taken a bath, and relaxed in front of the television. That wasn’t the lie. Not a lie; an omission. Like father like daughter, afterall. She had zoned out of the movie and was thinking of all the things that had happened to Paloma, both the lead up to her death and of the colours of her life. She was still thinking of Paloma's apartment. The way that one of the windows had a slightly off ledge and fasten to it and she could feel in her own muscle memory the exact way to press against it to get it open. Paloma often forgot her keys, or left them somewhere else and had devised her own way to get home should she need to (which was often.) Paloma had shared that with Eve, explicitly. She was compelled to think of what was left behind of the life of a girl who could no longer fly.

She turned up the television until the volume of the compulsions simmered down to gentle chatter again.

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