The Mobster and the Madame

[19:45] MatthewDeMarcoX: It just so happened that he had WMT business in Australia when his father passed on the message from Rita. When he was finished in Syndey that evening he took a private plan to Whyalla. The flight was off the records, and they wouldn't question him. Covertly, an hour later he was in front of her door. He knocked three times, then waited with a briefcase in his opposite hand.

[19:52] Rita DeVallie: ::Australia was one of the few places in the world that Rita had never been to before this particular trip. As it happened, she very much liked it, and not just because of the accents--although they were a big perk. At any rate, it had been some time now since Rita had set herself to opening up a new brothel. She simply hadn't had time to do the footwork herself, and she wouldn't trust anyone else with it. The process of selecting a location, decorating, interviewing and picking girls--all of these were things she had to do herself. Good thing she had shapeshifter capabilites. The public face of the madam was a petite woman with long chestnut hair, green eyes, and drop-dead curves. It was in this persona that she opened the door. The girls hadn't moved in yet, they were still decorating the place. The staff wouldn't arrive for another three days, so for the moment it was just her. Smiling warmly--albeit with the wrong face--she motioned Matthew in, not greeting him until the door was shut:: Matthew! Thank you so much for making the trip.

[19:55] MatthewDeMarcoX: He was aware she would be in a different, form, when he arrived. When she opened the door, his eyes took a quick slide over her. "You still carry yourself very regally. Go back to your roots more." Advised as he stepped it. Then he smiled warmly. "No problem. I was in the area."

[19:59] Rita DeVallie: ::His advice drew a grin and slightly narrowed eyes as she considered it. Hmm. Back to her roots. She could do that. Pausing before offering to take his coat, she slunk a few steps across the foyer, letting the elegance slide in favor of the cat-like sensuality that was all island. It must have been interesting on the 5'3" olive-skinned form. Slinking back to Matthew, she chuckled a little bit at her own display before getting up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek.:: Still, it's greatly appreciated. Would you like something to drink? To eat? I'm afraid the staff won't be here for a few days yet, but I'm sure we can manage something.

[20:02] MatthewDeMarcoX: He set his briefcase down so she could take his coat.Those family blue eyes tracked her cat like motions with both a discerning and strickly masculine apprecative gaze. "Better. And I'd love some food. I haven't eaten all day actually. And, I'm not picky. Anything you cook up will be fine."

[20:04] Rita DeVallie: ::After the kiss to his cheek, she took the offered coat, hanging it up in a nearby closet.:: Food it is. In that case, I'd suggest we adjourn to the kitchen. ::Motioning him down the large marble hallway, she took the lead, heels clicking smartly against the floor. She was still, apparently, taking his advice to heart, moving far more ferally than regally as she led him through the vacant mansion and into a very large, state-of-the-art kitchen.::

[20:11] MatthewDeMarcoX: "Lead the way MIss...I'm sorry I didn't catch your name." Said in amused one. He reached up to loosen the knot around his tie and followed her through the mansion. He took note of hte decor, took better notes on her movement. Just for professionality sake.

[20:18] Rita DeVallie: Harding. Savannah Harding, at your service. ::And the voice took on just the slightest hint of a southern accent. He would be able to hear the smile in her voice. She knew he was watching her, even though she couldn't see him. Stepping into the large kitchen, she pulled open the doors to the pantry so that he could see the options arrayed, then pulled open the fridge door to glance over the options.:: Hmmm. You'll have to forgive me, the pickings are rather slim. I've been too busy to worry much about gourmet meals, I'm afraid. I think your best options are probably a sandwich or breakfast food. I can whip you up some eggs, bacon, and toast in a hurry if you're not feeling like cold cuts. ::Pivoting with the fridge door still open so those vivid green eyes--which would be quite familiar to Stefano, just for the record, and were the eyes she might've had if she'd gotten her father's rather than her mother's--settled on him.::

[20:22] MatthewDeMarcoX: "Savannah Harding. That doesn't sound like a brothel madame. You sound like a Charleston Woman." He chuckled and followed her into the kitchen, sitting up on a stool. "Mac and cheese is it? I like Mac and Cheese."

[20:31] Rita DeVallie: ::She laughed.:: Very close, but not quite. You're about 70 miles off. Beaufort, South Carolina until age six, then Atlanta society. ::Peeking into the cabinet, she spotted the box of mac and cheese he'd been referring to and snagged it neatly off a shelf, setting it on the counter before she returned to the fridge to pull out a stick of butter and a half gallon of milk. Bustling around the kitchen, she set water to boiling, then turned and leaned back against the counter to look him over thoughtfully.:: Mac and cheese, coming right up. And, as a matter of fact, southern belles are nearly as irresistible to men as the exotic flavors of the island. ::With a wry quirk of her lips.:: Surely as a southern man yourself, you know that.

[20:37] MatthewDeMarcoX: "Pretty place, Beaufort. I've been there a few times." He watched her bustle around the kitchen, making the mac cheese. "And men do you love their southern belles you're right." He got up, but to get a glass from the cabinets stole the milk and filled it half full. "I am, a picky man Miss. Harding." And then he chuckled. "Actually, after twenty-nine years the only thing I've discovered is that I don't know what my type is."

[20:41] Rita DeVallie: ::He poured himself...a glass of milk. Rita--or rather, Savannah--paused, turned her head to glance at the glass of milk, then looked back up at him. The corners of her lips quirked, ever-so-slightly. Then she returned her attention to his words, nodding agreement when he spoke of his type, or lack thereof.:: My own personal history would dictate that if I have a type, it tends towards powerful Italian alpha males. At least, if we're talking about the men who weren't required to pay for my services ::it seemed only fair to add on, considering that on another level, her type had been whoever could afford her.::

[20:46] MatthewDeMarcoX: He went back to his stool, sipped from his milk glass then propped his chin his palm, keeping his fathers blue eyes on her. "Understandable. Your a powerful woman in your own right. If your choice of partner couldn't match up to that, doubt you'd keep him around for long."

[20:52] Rita DeVallie: ::She focused her sister's green eyes on him in return.:: Astutely put. The only two men I've ever loved were also two of the four men I've met that I couldn't intimidate. ::A brief pause:: The other two, in the interest of full disclosure, are Stefano Terenzio ::She even managed to say it without miming gagging or making a discernable face.:: and your father. ::Smiling slightly, letting her eyes rest steadily on his face.:: You are very like him.

[20:54] MatthewDeMarcoX: "Ah, those Terenzio's and DeMarco's. We're the real deal." He said in a mock pompus way, then just gave up and laughed. And her later comment turned that laugh into a smile. "Best compliment I've ever gotten."

[20:58] Rita DeVallie: ::She couldn't help it, she had to laugh along with him when he played at being pompous. He was the antithesis of pompous, and yet he carried with him the same quiet power that was his birthright. When he smiled at her in gratitude for her compliment, she smiled back.:: It was meant as one. ::The water started boiling then, so she turned her back on him to pour the noodles into the water and set the timer to 8 minutes before turning her attention back to him.:: So tell me, Matthew, what makes you tick? ::Cat eyes rested on him almost appraisingly as she waited for his answer.::;

[21:00] MatthewDeMarcoX: "Wow, what makes me tick." He took a quick sip from his milk glass then put his chin back in his palm, thinking. "I'm not so different than any other man you've met, Rita. If I wasn't a WMT Agent, I'd be a mobster. If its dangerous, and difficult I'm in. I'm ready to lead and I'm ready to do it, whatever it is."

[21:02] Rita DeVallie: ::It was a good answer. It was a very, very good answer, and the glint in her eyes said so. So did the almost, but not quite imperceptible smile that tugged at the corners of her lips for an instant.:: As long as we're being honest with one another, let's not pad anything--WMT agent is really just code for "government sanctioned mobster." What is it you do for the WMT, anyway? Or what do they think you're doing for them?

[21:05] MatthewDeMarcoX: "That's classified Miss. Harding. I don't know you well enough to let you in on my secrets." He winked at her. Then he unpropped his chin, and reached up, pulling off his suit jacket. Like his father, he was fond of three piece suits. "What about you, what makes Rita DeVallie, tick?"

[21:11] Rita DeVallie: ::One corner of her lips twitched as he told her the information was classified. And speaking of getting a little hot under the collar--Rita had always been a sucker for a man in a three-piece. Tony had worn them well. Alex DeMarco, Sr. wore them well. So did his eldest son.:: Rita DeVallie? Why, nothing, Mr. DeMarco. Haven't you heard? She's dead. Tragic, really. ::Another twitch of her lips as she turned to stir the macaroni.:: If she were alive, however, and if I were her...::she was quiet for a moment, as if pondering, then set the spoon down and turned back to him.:: I might tell you that it's the hopeless causes and horribly outclassed fights. I might tell you it's pulling victory not just from the jaws of defeat but all the way from its entrails. I might tell you it's striking the spark to start the fire that illuminates and eliminates all kinds of darkness. ::She tilted her head to one side and smiled faintly, and the spell she wove with her words was broken.:: And then, I might not. Who knows? ::The timer beeped, and she turned to retrieve the pot from the burner, pouring the steaming water and macaroni into a strainer in the sink.::

[21:14] MatthewDeMarcoX: He smiled, slowly as he listened to her. "Well, if you're right about Rita DeVallie I'd understand why she chooses the men she does." When she turned around to fix the mac and cheese he traced the line of her back with his gaze. Then settled it on her ass. "Nice butt." Giving voice to his thoughts with a charming, almost boyish grin.

[21:17] Rita DeVallie: ::After straining it, she returned the macaroni to the pot and set about mixing it with the cheese, milk, and butter. He would see the slight movement of her shoulders which indicated that she was chuckling silently in response to his compliment.:: Thank you. Yours isn't bad either. Not that I've looked. ::Too innocently, stirring the mac and cheese and leaning over the pot to inhale its aroma. Her secret was--she loved mac and cheese, too. What wasn't to love?::

[21:17] MatthewDeMarcoX: "Good thing you didn't. I might have to charge you." He grinned over the rim of his milk glass.

[21:20] Rita DeVallie: ::This time her laughter wasn't so silent.:: That might be a refreshing change of pace, as a matter of fact. I think I have a quarter in my pocket. You can have it if I can pop it off--::she turned around, then, interrupting herself.:: Oh, look, food's ready.

[21:22] MatthewDeMarcoX: His brows rose and then he started laughing. "Well aren't you a brash woman. And, I know your a madame, but I'm not wet behind the ears. I cost a pretty penny I'll have you know."

[21:23] Rita DeVallie: Well, in that case ::without missing a beat:: I think I have a penny in my pocket, too, and beauty is in the eye of the beholder. ::As she dished up a generous bowl of macaroni and cheese, stuck a fork in it, and set it down in front of him. Then she grabbed a second bowl and dished some for herself, coming around the counter to settle at a stool beside his.::

[21:29] MatthewDeMarcoX: "Oh, a smartass to boot huh?" He laughed and passed her a napkin as she sat down. "All right. I'll remember to be very careful in my word usage around you, Miss. Harding." And then he dug into his mac and cheese.

[21:32] Rita DeVallie: ::She glanced sidelong at him and did something that might have been classifiable as a wink before she, too, dove into her mac and cheese, munching happily. She ate singlemindedly, pausing only long enough to clear her throat and point across the kitchen.:: Oh, my God, what is that? ::As soon as he looked, she stole his milk glass and took a sip, then returned it, blinking innocently.:: Hmm. Thought I saw something, I must've been mistaken. ::And went back to her food.::

[21:35] MatthewDeMarcoX: "You're not afraid of ghosts are you?" Matthew grinned lightly at her, then reached for his milk glass. "You just hustled me." Realized then took a big sip from it, though he did set it back closer to her, then to him. "Should I keep an eye on my wallet too?"

[21:36] Rita DeVallie: ::She burst out laughing.:: No, Matthew, I'm not afraid of ghosts. ::After swallowing a bite of her macaroni, followed by another one.:: Nope. I have plenty of money, but I was, at that particular moment, lacking in milk. ::Assured him solemnly::

[21:37] MatthewDeMarcoX: "We're not that close yet. Get your own." He said it teasingly, and then in plain sight of her, reached over with his fork and stole a bit of her mac and cheese. Chewed. Decided her's tasted better than his and promptly switched bowls.

[21:38] Rita DeVallie: ::Rita was doing something she didn't do much of lately as he switched their bowls. Rita was grinning. Taking a bite of her new bowl, she tipped her head to one side consideringly.:: Hmmm. Yours is definitely better. ::Went back to eating contentedly, apparently quite happy with the switch::

[21:39] MatthewDeMarcoX: Matthew burst out laughing, then went back to eating when he could do so. "So how are you adjusting to being so undercover?" Asked after a moment.

[21:41] Rita DeVallie: ::She thought about that for a minute and a few bites before responding.:: Not bad, actually. It's interesting being short, I don't know how most women do it. And I nearly have a heart attack every time I catch a glance at myself in a mirror and realize I'm white. ::Making a mock-horrified face.::

[21:45] MatthewDeMarcoX: He wiped his mouth with his napkin, listening, then burst into laughter again at the later comment. "I can understand how that might come as quite a shock."

[21:51] Rita DeVallie: ::She nodded vehement agreement with him.:: I can handle an awful lot, but being white is an eternal shock. It could be worse, though. ::Solemnly:: At least I'm not a blonde.

[21:57] MatthewDeMarcoX: He finished his mac and chese and pushed his empty bowl a little away from him. "And you know, I really like blondes." In mock seriouness.

[21:59] Rita DeVallie: ::In total and utter unladylike fashion, Rita snorted.:: Yes, I definitely see you as the kind of gentleman who prefers blondes. ::A brief pause.:: That's enough of an insult that it almost erases telling you you're very like your father. ::Observed mournfully. She was finding that she was enjoying her time with Matthew DeMarco quite a lot.::

[22:03] MatthewDeMarcoX: He cut up laughing again. "You're right, you're right I'm sorry." His eyes faintly sparkled with his amusement. "I'll make up for it. Do me the honor and show me you."

[22:06] Rita DeVallie: ::She found she was laughing along with him, not only because he was funny but because his laughter was infectious. It was hard not to join in. At his request she gazed at him thoughtfully for a moment, then narrowed her eyes just slightly in concentration. Her outline became a little hazy and then a fascinating metamorphosis took place, in which the 5'3" southern belle transformed into a statuesque Jamaican-Italian with skin the creamy darkness of a latte. The dress she was wearing seemed to shift, too, in order to accomodate her changing dimensions. Neat little ascended trick--just one of many, really. A moment later she stood before him in all her natural glory, smiling a little.:: Made to order, Signore DeMarco.

[22:11] MatthewDeMarcoX: He put his chin back into his palm, a comfortable posiition for him and watched her transition to her natural self. When it was completely, his eyes darkened, just a hair. Or it might have been the lighting. And he never, looked at anything but her face. After a moment all he said was and quietly. "Wow."

[22:14] Rita DeVallie: ::Rita was not so busy transforming that she did not register where Matthew DeMarco's gaze rested throughout and afterward. She registered the look in that gaze, too, and her own eyes might have grown just a little stormy in instinctive response. Something in this man drew a very organic, almost primal reaction from her, one she felt neither the need to hide nor to fight. Locked together, dark eyes met blue and warred with them. She could've responded to his words--one corner of her mouth drew up slightly in acknowledgement of the compliment--but she said nothing, merely let their gazes intertwine and speak without words.::

[22:18] MatthewDeMarcoX: Matthew, just enjoyed the shared look. A million things could be passed between two people with a mere flick of their eyes. His gaze did move though, just to her mouth. It lingered there a moment longer before he looked back into her eyes and smiled, reaching for his milk glass. "So what do you women have against blondes anyway?"

[22:21] Rita DeVallie: ::their gazes were locked for long moments in perfect silence and it was more than enough. Then his gaze dropped, just for a moment, and just slightly. The direction of it drew forth a thousand new thoughts from Rita, and sent them spiraling into the ether. She might've had to blink once or twice when he finally reached for his milk glass, as if recovering from some kind of spell he had cast. Then he asked about their issues with blondes and she chuckled, then returned her face to deadpan and told him, just slightly petulantly.:: They started it.

[22:27] MatthewDeMarcoX: He burst into laughter at that declaration. "Oh really? Wel go ahead then." He waved his hand. "Make your case, I'm listening."

[22:39] Rita DeVallie: Well, who do you think coined those obnoxious sayings? ::Archly:: "Blondes have more fun ." Incidentally, that may be true, but brunettes remember it the next day. ::Tacked on.:: Plus, "Gentlemen prefer blondes." There are others. We had to fight back, so we came up with the blonde jokes, and it spiraled from there. ::She nodded sadly.::

[22:42] MatthewDeMarcoX: Matthew whistled low. "That is a sad, sad little war you've got going on there." Humor sparked in his eyes. "I suppose guys have their own. With the whole nice guy versus asshole thing."

[22:43] Rita DeVallie: ::Rita stifled a grin.:: And tell me, where do you weigh in on that particular debate?

[22:43] MatthewDeMarcoX: He slowly smiled at her. "What do you think?"

[22:44] Rita DeVallie: ::A tiny chill skated down her spine and crawled back up slowly.:: I could hazard a guess. ::In a voice that was a smooth as silk and a dozen times sexier than the slight southern accent with its hint of the islands behind genteel tones.::

[22:45] MatthewDeMarcoX: He would have to agree. It was a dozen times sexier. "I'm dying to hear it. I'll even tell you whether or not you're right."

[22:48] Rita DeVallie: Well, Signore, I think Alex, Jr. handles the nice guy business of the family. I'm going to hazard a guess that you'd follow in your father's footsteps and fall narrowly on the side of asshole. Perhaps not in the public eye, but...underneath it all. ::Rubbing her chin lightly as she gazed at him.::

[23:29] Rita DeVallie: Well, Signore, I think Alex, Jr. handles the nice guy business of the family. I'm going to hazard a guess that you'd follow in your father's footsteps and fall narrowly on the side of asshole. Perhaps not in the public eye, but...underneath it all. ::Rubbing her chin lightly as she gazed at him.::

[23:31] MatthewDeMarcoX: "So that's what you think of me huh?" The ghost of a smile threatened his mouth, "I bring you, your paper work, share a bowl of mac and cheese and you think I'm an asshole."

[23:33] Rita DeVallie: ::The same ghost teased at her lips as she glanced at him, finishing her own mac and cheese and snagging both bowls, moving to take them to the sink so she could wash them.:: If it's any comfort, "nice guy" is a four-letter word in my own personal dictionary. ::With a smile in her voice.::

[23:36] MatthewDeMarcoX: He laughed at that. "Wait a second. You're an ascending being. Aren't you suppose to like the nice guys?"

[23:40] Rita DeVallie: ::He couldn't see it as her back was to him while she did dishes, but would no doubt hear the grin his commentary drew from her voice.:: Ascended or no, while we're still attached to the third dimension via these bodies, we retain uniquely...human quirks. Mine is a deep appreciation for men who are capable of being real assholes. The difference between an asshole and a nice guy is slight. The difference is that most assholes also have a nice guy within them. Nice guys do not have an inner asshole. I like to think the assholes are simply more versatile. ::Had she answered his question? Well, sort of.::

[23:41] MatthewDeMarcoX: "You make a very conviencing argument." He polished off the rest of his milk, walked over to the sink next to her and set his glass in it. And then he stood there, looking at her side profile. "Did you sleep with my father?"

[23:43] Rita DeVallie: ::Any other woman would have dropped the dish she was washing--or, at the very least, made some indication of shock. Rita merely continued sponging off the bowl until it was clean, then set it aside in a drying rack, moving on to the other bowl.:: That's a rather impertinent question, isn't it? ::Semi-rhetorically.:: What inspires you to ask?

[23:44] MatthewDeMarcoX: He wasn't surprised that her poker face didn't change. "Curiosity."

[23:47] Rita DeVallie: ::Rita was surprised to find that part of the reason she didn't answer straight off was because she quite liked Matthew DeMarco, and the idea that he might think less of her bothered her abstractly. She didn't, of course, reveal any of these thoughts, but they intruiged her. Nevertheless, she was largely an honest woman except when subterfuge was unavoidable, and she saw no good reason not to tell him the truth.:: Fair enough. Yes, I did. ::Setting aside the second bowl and turning to look at him, to better gauge his reaction to the news.::

[23:49] MatthewDeMarcoX: He set one hand on the counter, leaning slightly and continued studing her as she answered him truthfully. He'd gone abruptly, impressively impassive. His eyes hidden in a shadow. "Did you charge him?"

[23:55] Rita DeVallie: ::And suddenly, even Rita herself found him quite impossible to read. That was more likely to be a bad sign than a good one, but there was no real way to know without invading his thoughts, something she did not like to do and refused to in this instance. Still, what did he think of this particular information? Rita found that she very much wanted to know. Still holding his eyes, gazing into what was essentially a brick wall for how much could be read from it, she responded with equal honesty to this question.:: I did not.

[23:58] MatthewDeMarcoX: He was silent for another moment. And then said finally with a faint trace of amusement in his tone, "That means you're not an asshole. You should have charged him double."

[00:01] Rita DeVallie: ::The moment she heard his tone, Rita realized it was okay. Imperceptibly, she released a breath she had not realized she was holding, and grinned back at him when he declared she wasn't an asshole, and ought to have charged Alex Sr. double. No wonder she liked the DeMarcos.:: Well, it's never too late to send a bill. ::Eyes twinkling.::

[00:02] MatthewDeMarcoX: "No it isn't. Be great to see his face too when he got it." He looked highly amused by this. And then, as he slide those eyes back over her face, his gaze slowly changed. "Would you charge me?"

[00:06] Rita DeVallie: ::She couldn't help but grin at the image of Alex's face when he received the bill. She might do it, too, just for the amusement of the phone call she'd get, not because she actually wanted payment. Then his gaze altered, became heavier, such that she could feel it like hands rather than merely eyes upon her. She had to draw in a breath before she could respond to his next question. One corner of her lips curved upward faintly.:: I ought to charge you triple. ::She paused for a beat, then her own face changed just slightly, too, in answer to the way he was looking at her. Only now did she actually answer his question.:: No. No, I don't believe I would.

[00:10] MatthewDeMarcoX: His chest rose and fell with the visible breath he took. He and he just, looked at her for another few heart beats, perhaps committing the way she was looking at him now to memory. After a moment, he smiled faintly. "I like that answer." When he extended his arm, it was to take up the dish towel, he slowly drew his gaze from hers as he looked at the sink and picked up a bowl to dry.

[00:15] Rita DeVallie: ::Her gaze was locked with his, unable to tear itself away even had she wanted to, which she did not. He smiled just a little at her and her own lips tugged up at the corners in instinctive response. She let go a slow breath when he turned away from her, drew in another one, with careful steadiness, and then picked up the pot to begin washing it--the last of the dishes that needed it. She set about scrubbing it in companionable silence as he dried the bowls, musing that she couldn't remember the last time she felt quite so comfortable doing such simple domestic tasks with another person. She and Marcello didn't do these sorts of things together--their relationship was not one of mac and cheese, or doing dishes. Those moments were ones he shared with Marilyn, and she did not begrudge them. That did not mean, however, that there was not a particular sweetness to this moment, spent with this man. Talk about unexpected, she mused, this was one she had not seen coming. She didn't try to predict what might happen next, either, merely let it come as it would.::

[13:31] MatthewDeMarcoX: He enjoyed the compaionable silence and simply set about his tasks, let his thoughts wander. It was interesting to be doing something as mundane as dishes considering their lives. He reached for the pot when she was done washing it, and dried that too. "How long will it take you to finish setting up shop here?"

[13:35] Rita DeVallie: ::Once the pot and the spoon she'd stirred it with had been washed and turned over to Matthew, she was finished with the dishes, and leaned back against the counter to watch him drying them. At his question her eyes rolled upward thoughtfully, calculating before giving an answer.:: I estimate if nothing unforseen happens we'll be opening for business by the end of the month. Since unforseen things always happen, I'm counting on the first or second week of next month. It wouldn't take nearly as long if I didn't need to redecorate so much of the place.

[13:49] MatthewDeMarcoX: Matthew nodded, glancing around at the kitchen as he finished and dried his hands before folding the towel back up. "Hamilton doesn't beleive your dead so don't make it look too much like your style. There's a decently strong WMT presence in Australlia too, which I'm sure is why you're here." He set one hand on the counter and faced her again. "Do things that go against your nature and your good business sense. And do them often, even it means putting one of your girls at risk."

[13:53] Rita DeVallie: ::Rita listened intently, nodding when he told her to be careful that it didn't have herself written all over it. She'd already planned on being cautious but she would be even moreso with the warning. Pursing her lips slightly at the last, she met his eyes.:: I'm not wild about that...but, then, i'm going to have to hire a few girls I'm not wild about either, for the sake of cover, and maybe I'll just make sure those are the ones at risk. ::With a wry quirk of her lips.::

[13:56] MatthewDeMarcoX: He gave a slight cant of his head at her, sending errant locks of black over his forehead and smiled in amusement. "You know you always expect you ascended times to be like jesus, then you say those straight out things and just make my day."

[14:00] Rita DeVallie: ::She got a good laugh out of his assessment.:: Don't get me wrong, I have my jesus-like moments, if you will. But I'm still in the body of human being, in a very human world. We work with what we are given. Sometimes the only way to improve the system is from within it. ::A brief pause and then she grinned triumphantly.:: Aha. There's a zen moment for you.

[14:02] MatthewDeMarcoX: He laughed and gave a slight nod. "Touche, oh ascended one." He smiled at her, then stepped away to collecct his suit jacket, sliding his arms back into it. "Thanks for dinner Rita."

[14:03] Rita DeVallie: ::She smiled back at him, watching him shrug back into the jacket, enjoying the sight, the way he moved. Stepping forward, she leaned in to brush her lips feather-light against his cheek.:: It was truly my pleasure, Matthew.

[14:08] MatthewDeMarcoX: He tracked her movements over to him. Stood still while she brushed her lips over his cheek in that chaste, poliete way. When she drew back he reached up and grasped her chin light but firmly between his fingers. In the brief moments his gaze set on hers he was not asking for permission but informing her of his intent. And then he slowly bent his head and pressed his mouth gently over hers.

[14:12] Rita DeVallie: ::His hand was warm and strong as his fingers took hold of her chin and held it steady. He wasn't seeking her approval, but he would see in her eyes, in the way one corner of her lips curved just faintly upward, that he had it. When he bent his head to her own, dark eyes slid shut and her lips settled against his with such ease, with such rightness that she felt as though she must have done this a thousand times before. The sense of familiarity in no way detracted, however, from the sparks she felt ignite within.::

[14:17] MatthewDeMarcoX: He didn't use his tongue but that didn't take away from the intimacy of it, at least not for him. His lips moved, slowly against hers, as if familiarizing himself with the feel of them. He drew away slowly, kissed the corner of her mouth then dropped his head. "Pleasure was mine. Good luck with your brothel." He winked at her, then turned and walked himself to the door.

[14:22] Rita DeVallie: ::Rita had kissed a great deal of men in her time. More than she could count, certainly. More than she would ever have tried to count. The number of those kisses that had been truly memorable was limited. This particular kiss, Rita was quite certain, she would remember for the remainder of her days. When he drew back, dark eyes blinked slowly open once more. She did not smile at him, but her eyes were warm while they traced his face, as if to memorize its lines.:: Travel safely, Matthew. ::It sounded incredibly inadequate to her, but the vast majority of her thoughts couldn't be put into words without cheapening them, and so she did not try. Turning away, she narrowed her eyes slightly in focus and a second later, Savannah Harding stood once more in the kitchen of her new brothel.::

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