Cesare has had this event booked for weeks. He would cancel it if he could, but he worries that it would make his enemies realise that something was up, that Cesare was on to them. So instead he hosts a campaign party in his hotel with all his standard extravagance. There's an open bar, musical entertainment (two delightful violinists) and campaign posters on the wall. "Circulation helps: Distribute power. Keep your voice heard". It's not a subtle jab at Sylvia or at his opponents. For him, the choice is simple: after all would you rather a seasoned diplomat, a power hungry impending dictator or a child as your representative? Cesare knows which one he would choose, though he is not exactly unbiased.
Right now, though, he's not in the chattiest of moods. He keeps to the corners of the room, sipping wine that he should not be drinking in his state, eyes out into the room in front of him. He's trying to keep his smile amiable but it's not going too well. After all, his attempted killer is here, Cesare is sure.
Cesare is not going outside today. They are out there. Instead he is locked in his suite reading. The windows are covered, though he isn't sitting near them just in case anyway. Every so often his head darts towards the door, thinking there's someone outside. The one time he isn't looking though, is when he hears a knock. He jumps a little, though he would not admit it, and tentatively makes his way up to the door, his teeth gritted. He peers through the peep hole.
After a while of thought, Cesare has had enough. Sitting alone, nervously locked in a room all day? That's not his style. He's better than that. He's a fighter, a rule setter, an I will not allow this kinda guy. It's time he tackles the problem head on. So he makes his way to the person he suspects is starting all this, one of the main pieces of this conspiratorial puzzle. It's time for some threats to be made.
Cesare does not have Evie's vote. She's long since promised hers to Jean-Claude. She cannot, unfortunately, vote for a Borgia in good faith. Of course, that doesn't stop her from going to the party. It's always good to see what sort of things are going on, and truthfully, she's a bit bored right now.
So yes, Evie's going out of her free will.
She works the room, talking when necessary, but mostly keeping her ear to the ground. She wants to make sure there's no turmoil in their new political climate, keep on top of things. And she was quite content to do that, before she notices Cesare. Usually he'd be talking up a storm, but he's reserved. At his own party.
With a glass of wine in one hand, Evie waits for the opportune moment, and approaches him. "It seems vampires will never tire of a good party." She pauses. "Congratulations on your nomination."
Eames knows there's a vampire at his door long before he has any idea who it is, he's not expecting anyone and vampires more than most should know to call ahead before showing up at his house. He takes his time coming down from his office, whoever it is can wait honestly, and eventually comes to open the door with a gun in his hand and a rottweiler standing at attention. Not growling, but clearly ill at ease thanks to Eames' own annoyance with this.
Annoyance that really only intensifies when he sees who's at the door, and he wrinkles his nose in distaste for the man on his doorstep. And he'd managed to be blissfully unaware of Cesare for this long.
"Do you people have some kind of inside line on my life?"
Seriously who is telling these vampires where he lives.
It's Cesare's most favorite annoying pest outside. He sighs, looks at his watch, and knocks on the door once again. Maybe there's nobody home. After all, the windows are all covered up. Still, he was already here, and here he was bound to stay until he got a response. He mutters to himself, already willing away that itchy feeling in the back of his mind that has come with his new power. "For fuck's sake, Borgia..."
Joscelin has not seen or spoken with Cesare for some time, and for a person ostensibly running for office that is more than passing strange. Cesare is a politician; he's running on his experience. His disappearance from the campaign trail does not suggest that he's a very good politician.
"Are you going to let me in?" he asks impatiently, through the door.
"Hello?" A familiar redhead is on the on the other side of the door. Probably not who Cesare was expecting to see, but who knows? Maybe he anticipated she'd show up sooner or later. With him in local politics, it can't be too surprising.
Not that Natasha will be voting.
But as she's shown on more than one occasion now—she does have an interest, even if she's not part of the nest. "I think you're in there."
Cesare nods, gaze focused out and on to the room as he takes a swig of his wine, wine that he hasn't left unattended since it was poured for him.
"Thank you..." He looks to Evie to check who exactly he's talking to, too distracted up until now. "Ms Fry," he adds with a small, forced smile for added cordiality. "I am hoping your attendance at this party means I have your vote."
Cesare wastes no time in pushing against the door, trying to open it to let himself in. He's not exactly the type to wait outside to be politely let in at the best of times. Right now he's angry and jumpy and has no interest in wasting time.
"We need to talk. Let me in," he says with a snarl, his teeth gritted. Eames needs to stop his games right now.
Edited (Rogue apostrophe. Also making it so Ces has to be invited in. c8) 2017-01-20 06:38 (UTC)
Cesare expects a few people to knock on his door, but Cooper is not one of them. Cesare expects hitmen, Trojan horse style gifts and poisonous room service food. Cooper arriving first hand seems...odd. Unless Cooper is truly as dumb as Cesare thinks he is.
The Borgia stands sideways to the door, making it trickier for hit him if Cooper were to shoot through the door.
"Why the fuck are you here?" he yells through the door.
Cesare doesn't exactly know the answer to that yet. He likes Joscelin, perhaps trusts him a little even. Besides, he's a small child: how much damage could he really do? But threats are still threats, even in small packages.
"Is anyone with you?" he asks through the door, not yet willing to open it.
Natasha is...not exactly a woman that Cesare wants to see outside his door right now. Her alliances aren't entirely clear and she has a past that makes her a fairly adept killer. He's not foolish to invite her in just yet.
Instead he moves a safe distance away from the door once he's seen her, talking to her through it instead of opening it.
He's not that dumb. Close to it, yet not quite. Cooper puts his hands back in his pockets. So, he actually is in there. The itching grows worse as he picks up the paranoia that's rolling thick off Cesare. That's most puzzling. It's not like the older vampire at all.
"We have somethin' we need t'discuss. Y'know, politics-wise." A couple of things, actually, but he's going to start off small.
"No." He doesn't think Cesare is stupid enough to come to his house and try to kill him in it, but on the other hand he might be. Either way Eames doesn't know the man well, but what he does know doesn't incline him toward extending an invite. Not until he makes his business known.
Eames frowns, reaches down to hold Boxer's collar and stop him crossing the threshold as he tries to put himself between the two of them, growling now at the man's tone.
"I'm undecided," she lies carefully. It doesn't do well to get yourself kicked out of a party immediately. "Jean-Claude is a close friend." She smiles at Cesare, because surely he can understand that, right?
"So you are there," Natasha responds slowly, drawing out the words. This is not the reception she was expecting. Not that she thought she would get a warm welcome, but she still was used to something warmer than this.
"Heard you were on the campaign trail. Thought I'd check in about it. Is it a bad time?"
Hmm. No, thank you. Cesare is on to Cooper. It's very clear to Cesare that "discuss" really means "commit" and "politics" means "murder". Cesare intends to survive tonight, thank you.
"If you think I'll let you in, you're kidding yourself." After all, why the hell would he let in his main opponent? He wishes Micheletto were here to kill this loser and get this all over and done with.
Cesare hesitates but eventually opens the door. Normally at this point he would turn his back on his guest, moving to grab the other person a drink, but instead Cesare remains facing Joscelin, looking at him before peering out for a second into the corridor.
"You can never be too careful," he explains as he closes the door, though that still doesn't really explain this
Cooper waits to see if Cesare has any intention of letting him in. When it becomes clear that he's just going to let him stand awkwardly on the door, Cooper becomes exasperated. If it was an ordinary building, he'd break the door down, but this is a home, so he has to wait for an invite. This is karma for making Cesare stand outside at his own home.
"Cesare, cut the crap. What's going on?" He pulled out the first name. This is serious business time. "'N don't lie. I'll know." With the exception of pure sociopaths, Cooper had begun to notice a subtle change in people's emotions, a spike that went up when they lied.
Micheletto's voice comes from a particularly dark corner of Cesare's suite. "Is something the matter, sir?" He asks, cocking his head to the side at Cesare's unusual behavior. "It really isn't like you to be cooped up all night."
Cesare doesn't reply at first. He's still wary, very wary indeed. He trusts Micheletto (after all, after all this time, why would he not?), but he doesn't entirely trust that the voice outside the door is Micheletto's in the first place.
It's very true that this is unlike Cesar though. By now he would be working. Or playing. Whatever he felt like for the day.
He doesn't open the door.
"Tell me something only the two of us would know, so I know I can trust you," he yells through the door.
There is an almost inaudible sigh from the other side of the door. He knows the room behind the door well enough to disappear from the shadow he's currently hiding in to one inside the front door. His knife is drawn in the blink of an eye, and with a lunge from the shadows he presses the tip of it to Cesare's exposed neck.
But it is merely a homage to their first meeting, not an attack. Never an attack. Micheletto stills his movements, then, keeping the blade's end just barely against his master's skin. He breathes evenly, calmly, before finally speaking again.
Cesare doesn't react the best at first. At any other time, he would have tilted his head back and smirked, heart pounding and breathing short. But this time he's more paranoid than usual and he grits his teeth, moving his hand up to Micheletto's blade before the other man speaks. That's when he finally calms down, giving Micheletto a gentle shove to give him some space.
"You should be careful doing that. I'm stronger than I was."
He takes the shove, and with a quick flip of his wrist has the blade back in its holster at his side. "And I more resilient," Micheletto answers mysteriously, stepping toward Cesare to close the distance between them.
"Will you not tell me now what is keeping you cloistered thus?"
Cesare doesn't miss Micheletto's use of the world "cloistered" and he rolls his eyes, though he doesn't move away.
"I have many enemies. With my current election campaign, they are attempting to assassinate me." He says it as if the answer is simple. Obvious really, not the nervous paranoia of a man under a spell.
"Indeed," Joscelin agrees, though he does not miss the way Cesare is acting. The paranoia coming off of him is unmissable, and also quite out of character. What has spooked him so badly?
"I came to find you. One would think that a vampire angling for a position in government would be out campaigning among his people." Joss's tone is casual, but he speaks slowly, as if to a child or a frightened animal. "This race has two ancients in it and yet the only nominee I see doing any real campaigning is a mere boy."
"You have proof, then?" Micheletto cocks his head to the side, curiously. Was the vampire representative position so coveted, it was worth killing for?
Cesare rolls his eyes. It's surprising, really, that not even Micheletto gets it.
"So I have to wait until I catch a spy sending letters and it's too late then?" It's a deliberate jab at Pascal, not that Cesare knows the man's name. But the point is clear: you don't exactly have a great track record of noticing conspiracies at times.
Now that is too far, even for Cesare. A pain springs from nothing in his chest, a burning pain, sharpening as a flash of dark curls and smiling face comes back to him. The change in Micheletto's demeanor is almost instant. His shoulders stiffen, and he grows tight-lipped. His fingers clench into fists, but stay at his side, as he blinks away his troublesome thoughts. At the same time, he looks away from Cesare to the richly painted walls, letting the silence speak for him.
It is only after he has taken a deep, steadying breath that he answers. "No. But names will be needed. You will have me look through all of London, with nothing to go on?"
"No. And that is why I didn't call you. I have no names yet, only strong suspicions. My only choice right now is defense, to keep myself in here until I know more for certain."
He moves back into the room, walking away from Micheletto for a second. Cesare is concentrating.
"They're out there, Micheletto," he says in the exact same he would if he were completely sane right now, except his words make it pretty clear he's not quite there.
"Have you grown nervous, then?" His gaze flicks to Cesare, voice uncharacteristically loud for a soft-spoken assassin. "You said it yourself, when we met at the Institute. You have enemies across all of Europe, true, and many in London also. And here you are, my lord, paranoid in a locked room. Would you sit here for all eternity and let them hound you here? Or would you meet your enemies on your terms?"
Perhaps he is harsher than he means to be, as the memories of Pascal were dredged up from the deep solely to harm him. But perhaps Cesare does need to hear them, to understand that he does not seem sound of mind, even to his oldest ally.
"What has happened that made you suspect? Perhaps I can go from that. I will be your eyes and ears, sir, and hands if need be. But you must tell me what you know."
Cesare doesn't answer her question and just laughs wryly instead, sipping some more of his wine and rolling his eyes. That much is an answer enough.
"Jean-Claude is a power hungry snake," he responds, harsher than he otherwise would have been. Cesare is an honest type of guy, but normally not that honest.
The awkward thing about vampires sometimes is that they tend not to be able to enter homes until they're verbally allowed in. Unfortunately, Cesare isn't exactly doing very well at acquiring an invitation. He snarls and smacks his hand against the wall next to the doorframe and holds his palm to it, leaning forward towards Eames, chin low, eyes up.
"I've had enough of your games, Eames. I'm ending them. Let me in now."
"Yes," Cesare responds bluntly, eyes fixed firmly on the door in case anything happens.
"I'm very busy. Exceedingly busy. And it's not safe out there. My competitors..." His competitors are out to kill him, of course. Natasha must know that by now. She has a history, after all. She can see it, if she's not one of the people trying to kill him in the first place.
"You bloody well know what's going on," Cesare snarls, truly meaning it. He had never liked Cooper, thought him immature and hotheaded, but now he's become organized too. It's even worse.
"Get the fuck out of my hotel before I kill you." At this point it's either Cooper or him.
The sharp honesty catches Evie off guard, and she takes half a step back. Shit, she silently curses herself. She should know better than that. But the vitriol in Cesare's voice is clear.
"D'you suppose there's a reason he's letting there be an election, then?" She asks carefully, having recovered with a sip of wine. He easily could have appointed himself to the Night Council. But he was letting there be a free and fair election. She liked to think that spoke mountains about their new leader.
"So what, you're going to leave me out here to the wolves?" Ignoring the implication that she might be a predator herself. Entertaining that would be a waste of time. On the very slim possibility he hasn't already decided that she's a threat.
"If I knew what was going on, would I be standin' out here like an idiot?"
He huffs, pounding on the door once again. What was going on
here? Cesare has gone paranoid and crazy, finally going round the bend.
Cooper knew it would happen eventually. He had just hoped it wouldn't be in
such a spectacular fashion.
"If you want to kill me, you'll actually need to come out, genius."
Cesare doesn't even remotely trust her at this point. He rolls his eyes from behind the door.
"You're a big girl. You can handle yourself, I'm sure," he says, evading her request. Besides, either she's one of the enemies herself, or she's likely of little interest to them. It's Cesare they're trying to kill, not her.
"So that's it then? If we're going to have a conversation, it's going to be through the door." Her voice makes it clear she's not fond of the idea. "This doesn't seem like the way to win an election."
Well that's no way to talk your way into someone's home, and the dog snarls, snapping his jaws and moving as far forward as it can with Eames' grip on his collar. Whoever he is, this man is not a friend and Boxer doesn't like him and his dumb displays of aggression.
Eames is strongly considering just closing the door in Cesare's face, in fact he starts to do just that before he catches someone across the street looking at them through their curtains and huffs, clenching his jaw because this feels like the stupidest thing he's ever done but he doesn't need a vampire causing a ruckus on his doorstep.
"Get in here," pulling the door open and stepping aside, he murmurs an order to the dog who sits by his feet, but still watches Cesare intently. Still deeply unhappy with him. "If I think for a second you might attack me, I'm putting this entire magazine of wood square in your heart." Something he confirms by holding the gun so a keen eye could see the safety is definitely off.
It's odd being in Eames' home, to see where he relaxes, but Cesare doesn't even consider that. He's too furious, too enraged to think about it.
He scoffs loudly once Eames threatens him.
"That's pretty fucking rich considering that's been your plan this whole time. I have men outside: if you kill me, you won't be able to take a step out of this house again and survive it." Cesare may be in a bit of an angry, misinformed, delusional mess, but he's still sensible. He knows stepping into Eames' home is risky.
"You should deal with your dog," Cesare says as a dimissive aside.
As far as he's concerned, Boxer is the pinnacle of good behaviour right now. Watching Cesare intently as he stays sat, clearly anxious about this stranger but making no noise otherwise. Eames told him not to, and so he won't.
He nudges the door closed and leans against it, no intention to show the man any more of his house than the entryway, regarding the vampire in his home with an annoyed expression. Part of him almost wants to dare Cesare to kill him just for the audacity of it all, but he decides against it. Laughing instead at the accusation.
"Cesare, please," he shakes his head, "if I was planning to kill you, you'd have no idea."
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undergrounds2017-01-18 09:02 pm
Campaign Party
Right now, though, he's not in the chattiest of moods. He keeps to the corners of the room, sipping wine that he should not be drinking in his state, eyes out into the room in front of him. He's trying to keep his smile amiable but it's not going too well. After all, his attempted killer is here, Cesare is sure.
Home Alone
Knocking On Your Door
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So yes, Evie's going out of her free will.
She works the room, talking when necessary, but mostly keeping her ear to the ground. She wants to make sure there's no turmoil in their new political climate, keep on top of things. And she was quite content to do that, before she notices Cesare. Usually he'd be talking up a storm, but he's reserved. At his own party.
With a glass of wine in one hand, Evie waits for the opportune moment, and approaches him. "It seems vampires will never tire of a good party." She pauses. "Congratulations on your nomination."
C'8
Annoyance that really only intensifies when he sees who's at the door, and he wrinkles his nose in distaste for the man on his doorstep. And he'd managed to be blissfully unaware of Cesare for this long.
"Do you people have some kind of inside line on my life?"
Seriously who is telling these vampires where he lives.
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Joscelin has not seen or spoken with Cesare for some time, and for a person ostensibly running for office that is more than passing strange. Cesare is a politician; he's running on his experience. His disappearance from the campaign trail does not suggest that he's a very good politician.
"Are you going to let me in?" he asks impatiently, through the door.
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Not that Natasha will be voting.
But as she's shown on more than one occasion now—she does have an interest, even if she's not part of the nest. "I think you're in there."
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"Thank you..." He looks to Evie to check who exactly he's talking to, too distracted up until now. "Ms Fry," he adds with a small, forced smile for added cordiality. "I am hoping your attendance at this party means I have your vote."
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"We need to talk. Let me in," he says with a snarl, his teeth gritted. Eames needs to stop his games right now.
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The Borgia stands sideways to the door, making it trickier for hit him if Cooper were to shoot through the door.
"Why the fuck are you here?" he yells through the door.
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"Is anyone with you?" he asks through the door, not yet willing to open it.
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Instead he moves a safe distance away from the door once he's seen her, talking to her through it instead of opening it.
"What if I am? Why are you here?"
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"We have somethin' we need t'discuss. Y'know, politics-wise." A couple of things, actually, but he's going to start off small.
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Cesare is certainly not giving off his usual self-assured swagger. There is something very odd going on here.
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Eames frowns, reaches down to hold Boxer's collar and stop him crossing the threshold as he tries to put himself between the two of them, growling now at the man's tone.
"Why are you here?"
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"I trust your campaign has been going smoothly?"
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"Heard you were on the campaign trail. Thought I'd check in about it. Is it a bad time?"
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"If you think I'll let you in, you're kidding yourself." After all, why the hell would he let in his main opponent? He wishes Micheletto were here to kill this loser and get this all over and done with.
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"You can never be too careful," he explains as he closes the door, though that still doesn't really explain this
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"Cesare, cut the crap. What's going on?" He pulled out the first name. This is serious business time. "'N don't lie. I'll know." With the exception of pure sociopaths, Cooper had begun to notice a subtle change in people's emotions, a spike that went up when they lied.
Home Alone 2: Lost in New York
Micheletto's voice comes from a particularly dark corner of Cesare's suite. "Is something the matter, sir?" He asks, cocking his head to the side at Cesare's unusual behavior. "It really isn't like you to be cooped up all night."
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It's very true that this is unlike Cesar though. By now he would be working. Or playing. Whatever he felt like for the day.
He doesn't open the door.
"Tell me something only the two of us would know, so I know I can trust you," he yells through the door.
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But it is merely a homage to their first meeting, not an attack. Never an attack. Micheletto stills his movements, then, keeping the blade's end just barely against his master's skin. He breathes evenly, calmly, before finally speaking again.
"My God, you're fast."
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"You should be careful doing that. I'm stronger than I was."
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"Will you not tell me now what is keeping you cloistered thus?"
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"I have many enemies. With my current election campaign, they are attempting to assassinate me." He says it as if the answer is simple. Obvious really, not the nervous paranoia of a man under a spell.
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"I came to find you. One would think that a vampire angling for a position in government would be out campaigning among his people." Joss's tone is casual, but he speaks slowly, as if to a child or a frightened animal. "This race has two ancients in it and yet the only nominee I see doing any real campaigning is a mere boy."
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"So I have to wait until I catch a spy sending letters and it's too late then?" It's a deliberate jab at Pascal, not that Cesare knows the man's name. But the point is clear: you don't exactly have a great track record of noticing conspiracies at times.
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It is only after he has taken a deep, steadying breath that he answers. "No. But names will be needed. You will have me look through all of London, with nothing to go on?"
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He moves back into the room, walking away from Micheletto for a second. Cesare is concentrating.
"They're out there, Micheletto," he says in the exact same he would if he were completely sane right now, except his words make it pretty clear he's not quite there.
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Perhaps he is harsher than he means to be, as the memories of Pascal were dredged up from the deep solely to harm him. But perhaps Cesare does need to hear them, to understand that he does not seem sound of mind, even to his oldest ally.
"What has happened that made you suspect? Perhaps I can go from that. I will be your eyes and ears, sir, and hands if need be. But you must tell me what you know."
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"Jean-Claude is a power hungry snake," he responds, harsher than he otherwise would have been. Cesare is an honest type of guy, but normally not that honest.
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"I've had enough of your games, Eames. I'm ending them. Let me in now."
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"I'm very busy. Exceedingly busy. And it's not safe out there. My competitors..." His competitors are out to kill him, of course. Natasha must know that by now. She has a history, after all. She can see it, if she's not one of the people trying to kill him in the first place.
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"Get the fuck out of my hotel before I kill you." At this point it's either Cooper or him.
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"D'you suppose there's a reason he's letting there be an election, then?" She asks carefully, having recovered with a sip of wine. He easily could have appointed himself to the Night Council. But he was letting there be a free and fair election. She liked to think that spoke mountains about their new leader.
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"If I knew what was going on, would I be standin' out here like an idiot?" He huffs, pounding on the door once again. What was going on here? Cesare has gone paranoid and crazy, finally going round the bend. Cooper knew it would happen eventually. He had just hoped it wouldn't be in such a spectacular fashion.
"If you want to kill me, you'll actually need to come out, genius."
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"You're a big girl. You can handle yourself, I'm sure," he says, evading her request. Besides, either she's one of the enemies herself, or she's likely of little interest to them. It's Cesare they're trying to kill, not her.
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comes back 30 years later with starbucks
Eames is strongly considering just closing the door in Cesare's face, in fact he starts to do just that before he catches someone across the street looking at them through their curtains and huffs, clenching his jaw because this feels like the stupidest thing he's ever done but he doesn't need a vampire causing a ruckus on his doorstep.
"Get in here," pulling the door open and stepping aside, he murmurs an order to the dog who sits by his feet, but still watches Cesare intently. Still deeply unhappy with him. "If I think for a second you might attack me, I'm putting this entire magazine of wood square in your heart." Something he confirms by holding the gun so a keen eye could see the safety is definitely off.
mmm cold brew
He scoffs loudly once Eames threatens him.
"That's pretty fucking rich considering that's been your plan this whole time. I have men outside: if you kill me, you won't be able to take a step out of this house again and survive it." Cesare may be in a bit of an angry, misinformed, delusional mess, but he's still sensible. He knows stepping into Eames' home is risky.
"You should deal with your dog," Cesare says as a dimissive aside.
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He nudges the door closed and leans against it, no intention to show the man any more of his house than the entryway, regarding the vampire in his home with an annoyed expression. Part of him almost wants to dare Cesare to kill him just for the audacity of it all, but he decides against it. Laughing instead at the accusation.
"Cesare, please," he shakes his head, "if I was planning to kill you, you'd have no idea."