[alice purcell]

Upon entering the modest Royal Gardens Cafe`, it was clear that Alice L. Purcell did not enter to take in the view. She was poised, scanning the inside of the building as she entered, looking for something. What it was she was looking for, she herself did not know. It could be anything. Anything that stood out. Anything that caught her eyes, and would help to put a potential news story together. As of late, there was a small slump in good stories coming from the Evening Journal, Chicago's elite news where she worked. Sure, there was a big scare about a new sort of drug being smuggled into the city, but that was tightly under wraps by the police. Even Alice's superiors sneaking skills couldn't get her access to things guarded by the police. They hid other things as well. Names of known Mafia members, locations of hideouts; the public had a right to know such things. Of course it might be dangerous to releases such information, but if it would stop an elderly couple from wandering into an area known for secret gang trades, then she could help save those lives. Perhaps the good outweighed the bad.

It was cold outside, so opening the door and entering the building, feeling the nice slightly warmer atmosphere was nice. Having some coffee would without a doubt warm her up. It took her only a moment or so to order a cup of joe, then, ignoring the tipping hat of a handsome gentleman to her left, she walked by, finding a seat towards the corner of the room-- facing the doorway. One could never be too careful. Her shin-length, pleated skirt flowed slightly with her scarf and hair as she briskly walked to the booth-like chair, claiming herself a seat. Her coffee was warm, even through her gloved hands. Slipping them off, she brought the mug to her lips and softly blowing in attempt to cool the hot liquid down. All the while, her eyes stayed fixed upon the unusually large crowd in the cafe`. The journalist wasn't a regular to the particular coffee joint (she never had enough time to such a luxury, and going in to sit down was a rare occasion) though the few times she stepped in, it was never this crowded. No doubt most of the city-dwellers were inside to escape the cold as well. Perhaps she could write about the recent stormy and chilling weather? No. That wasn't real news. Besides, it was someone else's job to write the weather.

She wanted news! A real story! Drama! Where was it to be found? Alice's reputation of snooping, and publishing things she shouldn't know was known to both the police, and the Mafia now. Many times has she had the both on the run. They had both wised up to her, and were covering up their tracks beautifully now. It was getting harder for her to pick things up. Alice predicted it was only a matter of time before the mafia, or even the police were sent to 'make her disappear'. It wasn't unheard of in the city. One of every two was most likely a crooked cop in some way. But for now, with nothing interesting or major to put onto newsstands, she was fine.

A heavy sigh left her as she took a small sip of the steamy sensational liquid. It was hot going down, and rejuvenated the woman. The woman who hardly slept. She went through her schedule in her mind. It was all ready about six o' clock in the evening, and the sun was just dropping. The next ten hours would be the mobster's prime hours, and therefore her own. She would go to the park, predicting that there would be a chance of something going down there. There hadn't been for a good while now, and since the mafia were not stupid people and preferred to bounce around with their locations, she figured it would be a good bet. Another sip of coffee. What she really wanted though, as bizarre as it sounded, was an interview with a mafia member. It was something unique and interesting, and never done before. Sure, the risk for such a ludicrus idea was ridiculously high, and she had a two out of twelve chance of getting such a thing to happen, and an even less of a chance of getting out alive. But if she did, that issue of the Journal would be a guarantee sellout. And it would even be good for the Mafia's business. The Irish issuing a statement on how the other family had better watch their backs; or blood would rain. There couldn't be anything better and stronger, if they were going as far to let the entire city know, that they meant war. The silly thought was purely fantasy in her mind, and her soft pink lips went up in a smile.

[sebastiano moretti]

“Dear Tino,

I sincerely enjoy you helping Mr. Procello and I during our time of grief and struggle in these hard times. I still can’t believe they laid him along with the majority of their employees. You would think in a time such as these they’d try and make something work for someone, but at our age we don’t appeal as a great asset to them I suppose. My hands don’t work nearly as well as they should and his knees are getting worse everyday. I still can’t accept your offer to help us pay for his surgery; it would be far too much, it is something I can’t make myself do. I’ll save up enough money, don’t you worry about us okay.

I still wish you would come and see us, Sebs. We do miss your charming presence and reassuring demeanor, because if it weren’t for you I doubt my daughter and I would have ever gotten along. She might have died before you two wed, but you will always be our son-in-law. I’m not just saying this because you help us financially. Please, come see us. I know I’ve asked you millions of times before, but I will continue to do so until you do.

Sincerely and with all my heart,

Annabiel Procello”

The letter was same as all of them almost like she made a 1,000 copies of the hardcopy and mails one out everyday to him. He saw a café up ahead and knew he needed something but this place might not make it strong enough. He walked in taking off his hat and jacket as he heard a shriek from behind the counter and sure enough the owner of the place was here today. Sebs smiled at the nice old lady as she started to holler for her husband, a once rather large man who now looked so small and meager came out with a bright smile on his face. He could hear the old man calling out to one of the clumsy new workers who had no idea what he was doing at all. “Ralph hurry up, get this young man a coffee extra strong. No, make it two! Bring it to his table.” “You don’t have too, At least let me pay for it.” There it was that squeal voice of his wife, and Sebs had no idea how she attracted anyone with that voice. However, she was probably the sweetest most carrying person you’d ever meet. “You will do no such thing.. go go.. go sit down now. I’ll have someone bring out your order.”

He bowed his head at her with a silent mouthed thank you and she did the same only saying your welcome. There it was his normal spot; however, there was a beautiful young lady who looked rather curious sitting a little further away. Sebs stuffed his letter into the pocket of his jacket and made his way over to her knowing full and well the owner was spying on him. If he didn’t know better she’d probably be planning out his wedding too, because lord knows she’s been trying to set him up with numerous women that were just perfect for him. He got closer to her noting that she was rather attractive, and she didn’t look like the usual flapper that he hung out with because they were an easy lay of course. It was quit refreshing to meet a girl that had character which was most of his attraction towards Sara. A person would ask before sitting down at someone table, but he wasn’t like most people that roamed the streets, because if he were then he wouldn’t be Sebastiano.

“Couldn’t help but to see you sitting by yourself.” He placed his jacket over the next available chair and laid his hat on the back of his chair. A nervous kid came up to him holding out two coffee cups filled to the brim with strong dark liquid that is sure to rot your insides. “He..he.. Here you go, sah… Sir.” “Thanks, oh and relax, son no one is tightening the screws on ya.” The boy nodded and walked back over to his command post as Sebs took a sip of his hot coffee. If there is anything to be said about the numbness of his mouth was that it was exactly as she said it was… ‘hot. He placed the cup down to give it a minute to cool off before he took another sip. “[color=blue]Not a regular are you? You are rather spiffy, and a great deal curious..” If she were a guy he’d be giving the third degree or throwing him out which either came first, because he didn’t want any trouble in this place.

[alice purcell]

The girl, whose modest, deep navy form-fitting suit with the pencil skirt and was well-tailored, noticed the man stepping in. Him in his hat, he was an extremely attractive man. A man of finesse and charm. He was most likely the man who preferred to be in charge, and with a pretty smile, could get what he wanted. If the smile didn't work, the man turned to diplomacy, speaking softly with a charmed voice, though prone to annoyance, she predicted he wore a mask. Yes, by the way he strode and the way he addressed the girl behind the counter, she knew that there was a little bit more to him than a common person would see. Sure, perhaps it wasn't in her business to by psychoanalyzing this man; but it was job to make other people's business her business. Quite literally.

As his alluring eyes turned towards her table, she instinctively looked away. An old pro at spying on people and then covering it up, she was easily able to do it without looking conspicuous. She couldn't make much out of the conversation of him and the owner, though she didn't see him offer any money. Hmph. How typical. Was it his gentle demeanor, or something else? People don't just give other people free coffee, even if they are easy on the eyes. Fear propels people to perform such acts. A member of the mafia maybe? A gangster? Perhaps it was out of sheer honour that the women offered free beverages. Perhaps he carried a badge. Whatever the case, there was something about this newcomer. Alice had a hunch. And when Alice had a hunch, it was always a good thing to follow it, because four out of five times she was right. Excellent odds in her career. Alice was luckily blessed with not only a sharp mind, but sharp instincts as well. Like a cat, she was able to think on her feet and tended to prevail.

Looking down at her coffee now, she was so lost in her thoughts, that she had not noticed the approach of the man. Something very unlike Alice L. Purcell to do, and very unprofessional. She made a mental note to never, ever do it again. The man slid quite gracefully into the opposite seat, putting his coat over the chair to which he was to sit in. She noticed that he had some taste, with the coat not being overly expensive, but was still high in quality and of the latest, slimming fits that was taking Paris by storm. The woman put her coffee down, looking at him with a very subtle slight head tilt. A part of her wanted to smile at his cunning, but reminding herself that she was not a stupid 'doll-faced' flapper girl and not easily amused, she held it back, pursing her lips slightly together, icy eyes forward with a piercing stare.

"And who said I didn't want it to stay that way," she said, pouring on sassy, but very casual and calm attitude.

So he was a bit arrogant. Even though such behaviour was common in her world, she didn't like anyone who thought they could get away with anything. Folding her hands on the table, she eased back slightly to keep from leaning any more forward, and sat up very straight. A boy came, having two hot black looking coffees. He was a younger boy, maybe his early to mid-teens, and just old enough to start working. She looked up at him, a pleasing smile on her facial features, offering kindness. And so did the gentleman across from her. He had spoken to the boy in a friendly manner, as if they had known each other for awhile. Comforting and that of a guardian. Like a grandfather to his grandson. Though once the boy left their presence, the spunky reporter's full attention was once again on the man sitting across from her.

"Stealing coffee from old women?"

Her words sharp and to the point. She wondered what he had to say for himself, and looked on with an unwavering face. "I suppose now you would like to ask me for my 'dough' and then burn some powder with your 'piece'." A strip of her curly, deep chestnut colored hair drooped into her face covering her eyes. She dare not touch it now. Doing so would make her lose her dominance in the situation. It would show weakness and humanity, and in order to stay one step ahead of this man in the game, she was going to need the advantage and maintain it.

What was his angle? Surely he wasn't sitting with her just to say hi. She was a businesswoman, and would not tolerate some idiot trying to take her home and showing her a good time.

[sebastiano moretti]

Sebs gave her a quirky smile as he took another sip of his coffee and the placed it back on the table. He relaxed a little in the chair sliding back placing his left elbow on the back of the chair as he leant a little to the right. “Judging me already? We only just met.” He moved forwards sliding back towards her keeping is voice low and velvety smooth as he usually does “No one just sits alone, Doll.” He slid back into the chair returning his elbow to where it was on the back of the chair. He loosened his cream tie a little to let air in, because it was alleged tie day at the office. He knew the white collared shirt and cream jacket were a lot less constricting when having to wearing a tie that bottles you in. Her comment about the old lady at the counter who was watching them with her full attention she ran into the boy who was a nervous as a kid holding a gun for the first time. The loud clatter of plates was loud enough to bring everyone to attention but they have gotten used to it considering how nosey the owner’s wife was.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t call my first friend here old, Thank You. I didn’t steal the coffee from her, Doll face. I offered to buy it, but she wont take my money, because she considers me her son.” He raised the coffee to his lips letting the smell tingle his nose and maybe take the caffeine straight to his brain without having to go through his whole system first. “She has never been able to have kids, so she adopted me when I first moved here, because my parents were killed.” For all he knew his parents could be killed by now or his entire family; which gave him a gut wrenching feeling thinking of Vamere dead. He took a sip of the coffee the placed it back on the table and ran his finger around the rim of the glass. “Okay, Newshawk. Think you know everything about me? I’m not going to ask for your ‘dough’ or burn some powder with my gat. I rarely shoot it unless I need too. Do I need too?” There wasn’t a single soul that knew anything about him and he was clearly lying about his parents and rarely shooting people. However, that was none of her concern…

He took a moment to look her over and then grinned as he looked down at his coffee cup one more time. “Let me guess? Burned by a guy more than once? You’ve made your mission to put everyone in their place and prove you are worth a damn.” Sebs looked away as he started to speak again to let the old lady know he knew she was watching and to cut it out. It never stopped her before and it probably wouldn’t know but the man of the place told her otherwise. You could see her disappointment from here as she tried to live vicariously through the young love of others. Only there was no shot in hell for young love between these two because right now this girl was too much of a prude to be otherwise. “I’m close aren’t I?” He turned his back to her and moved forward again towards her locking his eyes with hers as a nice trail of his cologne lingered over to her and wrapped around her as it moved on to the next person.

The coffee on his breathe was strong due to the strong coffee he had been drinking, but was probably the best coffee this side of town. “It does no good to be a wise head if you burn everyone first.” He pushed himself back finishing off his first cup of coffee and in walks that girl in the yellow dress who was with him the other night. Her hair still looked frazzled as if she didn’t even take time to try and fix it when she got home. Only thing he though was he was to concerned about looking at that snug pink dress she was wearing as she moved along to the counter. The girl made appoint to smile and wink at him, and if they were in a different location she’d be doing much more.. oh much more. It would almost be worth running up there grabbing her and taking her to his place for another go around, but he had to get back into the conversation with this dame. He looked back at her as if he didn’t just go drifting off in pleasure land thinking about the night before with her in his room.

[alice purcell]

Oh my how the things have changed. It wasn't too long ago, she could remember, that gentlemen would know when they were not wanted, and kindly leave with the tip of a hat. No longer did those times exist. Now, there were only ambitious swine-like men, who flaunted themselves, playing games with girlies. And Alice wasn't one for games. But she wasn't one to be excessively rude or hateful. This man's story about the woman offering coffee because she adopted him made her think twice."In this city they do," she said, about to continue. But he kept talking.

His tone changed slightly, ans Alice could tell she had ruffled his feathers. In a slight nagging way, he spoke how about how she was shooting them down despite the fact that they had just met. How she had given up on men and considered it her duty and aspiration to ruin the lives of men. If his comments weren't enough to get her angry, then surely it was the very sly mannerism of the way he was saying it. The reporter clenched her jaw, something she did when she was angry, and peered at him with icy eyes. She now had a few options to choose from. The pure, animalistic desires of her wanted to grab her boiling coffee and throw it in his face. But naturally, that was something she could not begin to do. Not something she could get away with, anyway. She could ask him to go away, or, knowing that he most likely wouldn't, simply walk off herself. Or she could use her head; the one that she was most likely going to do. Why make an enemy like this anyway? She had been the one to fuel the fire, and she supposed she did act a little bit harshly on their meeting. Letting the aggression empty from her with a few steady breaths, she looked at him, moving the curly brown strand of hair from her eyes.

She was letting her defense down now, and though she didn't regularly feel bad about her actions, she felt it better to redeem herself in the eyes of this man. "I," she paused, trying to piece the words together. She wasn't good in situations like this one, where she had to speak like a civilized being and not pressure for her victim to speak. "I-- suppose I owe you an apology. It's just that living in this city... a girl learns to keep her guard up. Sorry."

"And yes. You are close," she said, cracking a very small smile. "But not exactly on."

Shifting her body slightly, she also leaned in. Hopefully she had redeemed herself in the eyes of this man. but who was he exactly? He was beginning to intrigue her. Who was she? She had better not leave the question go unanswered for too much longer. Extending her hand, "Alice Purcell. Chicago Evening Journal," she said introducing herself. "But you already know that. How, may I ask?"

It was then that a skimpy blonde flapper girl entered the cafe`. By the way that the man looked at her, she could tell that the two had spent a wild night together. The scent of his cologne caressed her senses, though she did her best to ignore it. The way that she giggled and looked to him was enough to get her flustered, but she only pursed her lips. Was Alice jealous of this flapper girl? No. Not at all. Unlike the blonde, Alice had class. Alice was a strong woman, and needn't give in to blunt sex. Motioning with her head to the blonde, Alice inquired.

"Friend of yours?"

[sebastiano moretti]

I promise to post tomorrow.. sorry for the delay!