Cesare is sitting in a booth at the side of the room, his shirt bloodied and a cigarette balancing between his lips. He normally didn't partake in smoking and had decided it was a filthy habit, but tonight is a bit of a special occasion. Leaning back into the cushioning of his seat, his elbows resting on its back, he looks practically post-coital. He's missed this.
He had almost forgotten what it felt like to kill with purpose, drain the blood from a man when he was trying to do the exact same thing to you. There's a thrill in it.
He hasn't touched the fae blood but he's still on a bit of a high when he catches sight of Natasha, gesturing for her to come join him. He reaches for the bottle of scotch that he took from the bar and pours her a glass, sliding it over to her.
"So were tonight's actions of yours for Islington or for Redbright?" he asks. The two of them had ended up on the same side tonight. That had been a pleasant turn of events. And they'd done well. But Cesare isn't entirely sure if they'll be fighting on the same side again.
no subject
He had almost forgotten what it felt like to kill with purpose, drain the blood from a man when he was trying to do the exact same thing to you. There's a thrill in it.
He hasn't touched the fae blood but he's still on a bit of a high when he catches sight of Natasha, gesturing for her to come join him. He reaches for the bottle of scotch that he took from the bar and pours her a glass, sliding it over to her.
"So were tonight's actions of yours for Islington or for Redbright?" he asks. The two of them had ended up on the same side tonight. That had been a pleasant turn of events. And they'd done well. But Cesare isn't entirely sure if they'll be fighting on the same side again.