#blehhhhh time to try and get myself to pass out somehow

[star-bastard]

*through gritted teeth as blood drips from my mouth* the holidays

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 95

More intrigue~~~~ And some humor, because when humans get scared, some of us make jokes.

It took a sedative and Lyric for me to get some sleep before my clandestine meeting with Antoine.  Conor and Maverick had both protested, calmly but firmly, and at length. In the end, they only conceded if someone they trusted could follow me in disguise.  Their first choice - my sister - was entirely out of the question, since she was entirely too recognizable… especially to Antoine.  Xiomara was out as well, since there was very little chance anyone associated with Jokul would not recognize her somehow.  Same thing for Charly.

Fortunately, Arthur was able to pass Xiomara’s muster for disguise within the twelve hour deadline that we had to work with. An hour and a half before I was due at the Undine, I was pacing with worry that I would actually have to go alone. A traitorous voice in the back of my head wondered if Antoine had a point earlier - was I really hiding behind people?  However, before I could wrap myself too tightly in a panic attack, the door chimed with a request for entry. Praying fervently to any takers that Xiomara found someone to follow and observe at a distance, I composed myself to answer the door.

As expected, Xiomara stood on the other side, casual grin shining like the sun as she leaned against the door frame. What was entirely unexpected was the man standing just over her shoulder.  Slightly taller than me, he was rocking back and forth on his heels, hands in his khaki pockets as he craned his neck to look around like everything was unfamiliar. A hideously striped button-down strained across his stomach. That can’t be comfortable, was all I could think. Why doesn’t he have clothes made that fit better? Any discomfort he was experiencing didn’t even trickle into his expression as he gave me a cheerful smile.  Silver, unkempt whiskers matched the unruly hair on his head, but something eerily familiar stared at from dark brown eyes framed by thick glasses and rosacea.

Shaking my head, I have Xio a confused glance.  Her smile never waivered, however. “Hey, Xiomara…” I said slowly. “Come on in…”

“Thank you,” she gave a small mock-bow. “This is my friend Solozo, thought I would introduce him to you.  He had an idea for an event.”

I nodded, still squinting at the unfamiliar man. “Yeah. Yeah, sure, both of you come in.”

“My deepest gratitude, Miss Sophia,” Solozo nodded as he passed. “Surely we are interrupting you, but you invite us into your home the same.” His accent was so strong I could hear it even over my translator. Italian, but not quite the Neapolitan I was more familiar with from Before.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Xiomara made herself at home with a cup of coffee from my kitchen. At the same time, Solozo looked around my living room.  Small comments here and there washed over me as I noticed he had a stiff leg, giving him a rocking sort of gait. “Sir, I would love to hear about the idea for your event,” I ventured politely, getting him to turn and face me instead of my plants and photos.

“Wine and cheese tasting,” he beamed. “Now, I don’t drink, and I can’t eat dairy, but I’m going to see what Meece can do to fix that.” Smacking his stomach for emphasis, he continued. “I want to taste all the cheese I never could before, and I think everyone else should have that experience. Everyone eats cheese?”

Something was really bothering me about this man, but I felt terrible. He was being perfectly pleasant, and I was the person who handled this sort of thing. But something was just… off. “I think that’s a splendid idea. All cultures have a sort of wine, all cultures have a sort of cheese. No pun intended,” I conceded. He chuckled as I continued. “But… I’m confused, Xiomara.” I turned to my friend, still smiling and leaning on my dining table. “Not to be rude, but you could have asked Mr. Solozo to send me a message and I could have contacted him in the morning.”

“She could have, yes,” Solozo interjected, extending his stiff leg to take a seat. “Gout, it’s on the list of things to have looked at. But I needed to speak to you tonight, Miss Sophia, do you understand?”

I shot off the couch, bolting for the entry to the hallway as I realized what was bothering me. “Your accent. It was here, now it’s gone. Xiomara, what the hell - “

Before I could finish, she walked over and smacked the strange man on the shoulder. “I told you that accent wouldn’t hold up.”

Removing the glasses, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I dropped it on purpose, just to make it fair,” he explained in a much more familiar, wry tone.

It took every ounce of restraint I had not to knock Arthur’s head off his shoulders. “You ass!” I shouted, grateful that Maverick and Conor were already awake - as evidenced by the head poking around the corner from the bedroom and the other one poking in from the now-open entrance. “Arthur’s disguise, ladies and gentlemen!” I cried dramatically as I threw a pillow.

“Hey! It works, doesn’t it? I had you fooled at least. And it’s not like I’m going to be talking much anyway.”

Xiomara was still laughing. “I thought the walk was a nice touch, personally.”

He scowled the best he could. “You bet me that I couldn’t hide the sword. The walk was just - incidental.”

Now that I wasn’t angry anymore, I made my way over and leaned closer to look at his face. “Whoever did the nose and the rosacea did a good job,” I admitted. “And the stubble?”

“Unfortunately, that’s mine.” He scratched under his chin for emphasis. “I haven’t shaved since before Alpha shift. This shit itches by the way.”

“The blue dye to get it that color probably didn’t either.”

“Not at all.”

“Did you bleach your hair, too?”

He pulled back, fixing me with a malevolent stare. “Very funny.” He turned away from me, puting the glasses back on and muttering. “I’m in my forties, remember? I actually just had the dye removed.” He ran a hand through his hair before shaking it back into a dishevelled state and fluffing it to stand up.  “You can bet your ass I’m dyeing it back before I teach class in the morning.”

Maverick entered the rest of the way into our quarters, allowing the door to the corridor to close again.  “I had no idea you were completely grey.”

“Prematurely,” he confirmed. “Even Before.  It started to go in my twenties, but at least it didn’t fall out.”

“So what was with the accent?” I asked. “That was entirely unnecessary, to be honest.”

He scoffed. “Are you kidding? As soon as I dropped it, you knew who I was.  I would call that necessary to fix.” I heard him mutter something that sounded like ‘amateur’ before he continued. “My family is originally from Italy, remember?  The accent is Sicilian.”

“Wait,” I sputtered. “Did you seriously name yourself after the guy who failed to kill Vito Corleone?”

“You can’t prove a thing. Could be a family name.”

Xiomara leaned over and swatted his arm. “Yes, it’s from The Godfather.”

“You also tend to hate Sicily and deny they are part of Italy,” I pointed out.

“They’re Greek and you will not change my mind.” 

Maverick looked thoughtful for a moment, before slowly confirming his suspicion. “So you are using the name of a hit man - apparently a bad one - from a movie that is over a hundred years old, because you hate Sicily?” He grimaced, and I could only imagine the headache he was getting. 

“He did kill Brasi, though. He just didn’t manage to kill Vito,” I pointed out.

“You aren’t even speaking English at this point,” he wailed in mock-despair.

Arthur cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow. “I took the name of an incompetent mob boss to try to make anyone with Jokul feel comfortable in the event I need to show up later in a more obvious way and have to reuse this.” He gestured at himself before patting his fake stomach.  “Besides, it’s funny to use the name of an incompetent around actual incompents.”

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” I sighed dramatically. “Once a warlord, now you are all that you hate most in the world.”

“Still not racist,” he pointed out, complete with finger guns.

“Says the guy who hates Sicilians,” Xiomara argued.

Arthur just waved a hand dismissively. “I’m Italian.  That’s like Sophia saying she hates people from New England.”

I wanted to argue, but the very physical shudder that wracked my body made that impossible. I settled for clarifying. “Only in a general sense.  I’ve met several very nice people from New York and New Jersey.  But when I go there… blehhhhh.”

“Exactly.”

Xiomara glanced at her datapad. “Okay, we have just enough time to get to the Undine for your meeting, Sophia.  Let’s get this show on the road.  Solozo, you’re going to follow her at six to eight meters.  Meander, look at things, just make sure you keep her in your sight, got it?”

He rolled his eyes. “I know how to do protection detail, Madam Kalloe.”

For emphasis, she smacked his arm again before helping him up. “Good.  Make it count and you can keep the sword.  I don’t want to sit through any more criminal trials if I can avoid it.”

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