Guilty as Charged || Feliciano

[Charlotte Anri van Rosenfeld]

COME BREAK ME DOWN,  BURY ME, BURY ME

Parties are serious business.  Time and again, Ciel and she would go off on their own little personal heists. They needed each other to a degree, but cats are independent creatures. When their whims called for it, they went off on their own and did as they wished. Her very first heists were independent heists (if they could be called heists), and so this was no trouble.  It was simple, really. Easy pickings. Sometimes, she would call it "shopping". Sometimes, she would come into hotels under the guise of being a guest for a party... fake invitation acquired of course. The larger heists required real invitations, but for small gigs like this, a fake was good enough. She wouldn't need to show her face at the social event, anyhow. She wasn't interested in tainting her image too much, after all.  She would show up, decked out in livery. She greeted guests and made small talk in the lobby to arouse less suspicion. Keeping them at arms length, she was usually able to slip by and show herself as overshadowed by the other partygoers. She was simply a presence, a placeholder for many of them. They had buried her into obscurity, and so she now revels in it. You take what you're given and twist it to your advantage. She excused herself from general discussions in the lobby, saying that she would need to go up to her hotel room in order to "powder up and pretty". The excuse usually worked.  The powder up part, the beautiful Ciel Blanc was able to provide her with. A touch of Lancome powder and a touch of blood red lipstick (said to compliment any skin tone) always did the trick. However, her definition of prettying up involved taking her pickings.   And so, that's how she found herself surveying the hotel rooms on the fourth floor. With her automated keycard in hand, she scoured the hallway, ready to take her pickings...

LAIKA OF GS!

[Feliciano Vargas]

Words: 728

Tags: Charlotte Anri van Rosenfeld

Notes: Finally seeing Feli work... kinda...What else is new?

Sometimes it was nice to have connections. If he had to take down a well known target, such as one Samuel Bucciarelli, he would prefer to do it as quietly as possible so to avoid any unwanted suspicion. Feliciano had managed to survive this business by carefully tailoring his hits—keeping them as far as he could from the public spotlight. But to do that, one usually needs a better understanding of the target—far beyond what you can pick up from dossiers. Most assassins didn’t bother with this kind of legwork, but then again, most assassins weren’t so precariously balancing two lives.

Yes, it probably would have been better to have been a member of the party and certainly more fun, Feliciano mused as he adjusted his apron and shifted the serving platter in his hand. But he had to admit, attending as part of the staff was far more anonymous. He moved through the crowd, amazed by how few people even bothered to look him in the eye as the snatched up whatever artistically arranged appetizers he happened to be carrying. It appeared Angelo was right. No one cares about the hired help—it’s the perfect disguise. It had also been much easier than he’d expected to fake being an employee, the harried management had far more on their plates than what freshfaced youth pops in to staff their gatherings; there was money to made. And so Feli could move, almost completely invisible, through the mix of mafia, politicians, socialites, and the regular mix of mongrels, circling the big fishes with dreams of power fresh in their gluttonous eyes. He really was going to have to try this method out more often…

Feliciano waited until the party was nearing its climax; no one would be looking for him—not until he should be reporting back to the kitchen with an empty platter. Feli figured he’d have about 15 minutes before anyone in the kitchen would notice his absence. Now was the time to search, to scope out what he needed to know. As soon as Feliciano stepped out of the kitchen with his new platter, he carefully disposed of the appetizers and slipped out into the quiet hall, his ears still ringing from the chatter and music that he had just left behind. He took a precious moment to relish this novel silence before tucking the platter under his arm and padding through the halls. From what he’d learned from Angelo, his newest target was spending the night in room 434. Getting in to the room wouldn’t be a problem. Getting out and getting back to the kitchen before anyone gets suspicious was going to be far tricker…

He frowned as he turned the corner and caught the sight of an unexpected guest. She was exquisite, a beautiful young blonde, dressed to the nines and clearly belonging downstairs, toasting good fortune with one of the most despised enemies of the Vanore family. So why is she here, alone with nothing but a cardkey for company? Feli took a brief moment to appreciate the graceful arch of her shoulders, the curves of her body so carefully accentuated by the clinging fabric of her evening gown. If Feliciano wasn’t working, he’d approach her in a heartbeat. Beauty like that deserves to be praised… to be sought after. Except now he was working and she presented a very real obstacle… He couldn’t very well break into Bucciarelli’s room with a witness. And he couldn’t risk trying to escort her away from the hall. Anonymity only works in a crowd and the last thing Feli needed was to have someone remember his face when Bucciarelli finally expired. He was kitchen staff, after all, and his presence up here would immediately be suspicious. And so with a heavy heart, Feli turned to beat a quiet retreat back towards the party.

He sensed, more than saw the blonde turn around to see him. Escape wouldn’t be so easy now. A brief moment of panic seized him, but when he turned to face her, there was nothing but a courteous smile on his face. “Good evening. Are you lost, bella?” When in doubt, play innocent. Naiveté and charm had pulled him out of more tight spots than he’d care to remember. There was no reason to expect that this would be any different.

made by MISSO for KAT

[Charlotte Anri van Rosenfeld]

COME BREAK ME DOWN,  BURY ME, BURY ME

If there is one rule that is universally followed by thieves of all varieties, it would be don't get caught. In the event of getting caught, it is obvious that the possible success rate went down considerably. For thieves of high profile, or wishing to maintain a high profile, getting caught would be the end. Charlotte happened to want to maintain a high profile for business, but she knew when to put on the mask of another identity at the drop of a hat. If she had been a thief that needn't care for their identity to be found, she probably would have taken a much flashier edge when it came to building her thieving repertoire. But those thieves rarely last long. As she wasn't on the guest list for this party in particular, nor had she made an attempt to fashion herself a fake invitation, she wouldn't be able to use the party as an excuse to be in the hall. Of course, the advantage of stealing from a hotel is that there would always be hotel guests that are not part of the soiree. She simply had to keep a low profile, call herself a hotel guest, claim that she had just checked out of her hotel room, her bags had been chauffeured, and she was simply waiting for her passage to Heathrow.  “Good evening. Are you lost, bella?” Play innocent, play charming. That's what she had to do here. If she was lucky, he didn't see her try her way into the other rooms. If she was unlucky, he caught her trying to get into 434 and hadn't said a thing. And if she were really unlucky, he would be 434's current tenant. From the hotel log she purloined, knew the names of the people who had rented out these rooms, but she knew not their faces. If he wasn't in utter shock over her trying to get into the room, he probably wasn't Bucciarelli. "Ah, bonsoir monsieur. I wouldn't say so. Would you happen to be the owner of 434?" she said, the corners of her mouth curling into a playfully innocent smile. "I did receive a nudge down there at the party to come pay 434 a visit for a little present." She pocketed her key card, showing not an ounce of panic.  "If you happen to be Monsieur Bucciarelli, how may I offer my services?" she purred. She hated to play the elite's little kitty, but if that was what was required, so be it. And besides, "Mr. Bucciarelli" seemed like good evening company. A small price to pay for shopping? They say it's easier to slip by when passion blinds.

LAIKA OF GS!

[Feliciano Vargas]

Words: 605

Tags: Charlotte Anri van Rosenfeld

Notes: OMG I am SO sorry, Feli didn't feel like working. But he's here to tango now. Orz

Feliciano carefully marshaled his expression when he heard her voice. So she knows the name, but not the face of his target. Feliciano wanted to immediately dismiss her as a simple socialite—just another one climber on London’s social ladder. But his instincts… they told him a different story. He wasn’t even sure what they were alerting to—there was nothing about this girl that seemed threatening. She was perfectly unassuming, perhaps even a bit tipsy from the night’s events…certainly not a threat….right? And yet, the back of Feli’s neck prickled as he watched her. There was something about her just didn’t sit right with him, perhaps that smile of hers reminded Feli a bit too much of his own. Regardless, she was a variable, one he couldn’t just leave behind. At least… not until he has a better understanding of her.

“Ah, the Boss?” He smiled and leaned against the wall opposite of the door, hooking his thumbs on his pockets. He’d learned to play many roles on the fly, his jobs usually required some quick thinking on his part to ease any suspicion until he was ready to act. He knew enough about the Bucciarelli family to pass as an underling, especially to one who clearly didn’t know much about them. As for his uniform? Well it certainly wasn’t unusual for crime families to use said underlings as hired help during social events—all the more bodies on hand in case things went south. Confident, in his story, Feli smiled apologetically at the woman, even as he continued to appraise her, to search for that single giveaway that would let him know what he should expect of her. He really hoped he wouldn’t have to resort to force, she really was too pretty to be tied up and drugged. With any luck, he could discourage her and still have time to search for any helpful clues in the room. “Sorry, Miss, I think someone might have playing a joke on you. Boss doesn’t like holding parties in his room—says people are pigs and he can never find anything afterwards.” He sighed and shook his head, looking exasperated. “I’m so sorry, some of the boys don’t know how to talk to such a beauty… so they resort to playground pranks. If you don’t mind my company I could escort you back down to the party and—“

It was almost by accident that he noticed the key card in her hand as she pocketed it. Now that was unexpected. How did she get a keycard to Bucciarelli’s room? He hadn’t been lying about the man’s dislike of visitors to his room. Sure he’d been known to bring in a woman or two at the end of the night, but he’d never send one up alone. No smart mob boss would—who knows what secrets could be uncovered in their absence. Moreso, no underling who wished to keep breathing would dare give up a card key to a stranger, no matter how pretty. That left only a few options as to how she could have acquired it and none of them innocent. With the speed of a striking cobra, Feli’s hand shot out and latched around her wrist, tugging her closer, his expression hardening into a surprisingly cold stare.

“But before you do that, bella, perhaps you can explain to me how you came about the cardkey to the Boss’ room?” His eyes never strayed from hers. Perhaps she was a rival, perhaps just an opportunist, but one thing was sure. Feliciano was not about to let her go until he got the truth.

made by MISSO for KAT

[Charlotte Anri van Rosenfeld]

COME BREAK ME DOWN,  BURY ME, BURY ME

The diamond mines in Rwanda really do pay for themselves, even as they begin to run dry. Even with most of her father's assets taken away by those greedy bastards, she found that diamonds were truly a girls best friend. No one wanted to touch the diamond business. They didn't want to sully their hands, or pursue diamond mines that were probably dried from generations of excavation. But diamonds still paid for her satin throw pillows and premium exotic cosmetics. But besides that veil of glamour... she spent most of her money on technology. As the Belgians have traditionally pursued, much of her money has been spent on the latest technology. Better mining equipment for the mines, more efficient machines for the confectionery factories, the latest research in the toy industry. And tools to make thievery easier. Hence the card key, outfitted to look like a card key from the Cadogan.  “But before you do that, bella, perhaps you can explain to me how you came about the cardkey to the Boss’ room?”  the stranger said, tugging on her wrist. He had a surprisingly strong grip and a cold, hard stare. She looked at him with does eyes, a film of water form over her green eyes "How else do you think I procured this cardkey? He gave it to me personally... and requested my services, even if I did say that I wouldn't normally do this. But anything for mon parrain. I myself feel uncomfortable coming up here alone, especially with the deposed and somewhat drunk people at the party. I had to make a break for it from the elevator, as a truly disgusting man had tried to— never mind, it's too difficult to say!" she said, slowly freeing herself from his grip and wiping a tear from her eye. "I know that Monsieur Bucciarelli isn't very trustful of having people in his room, but he trusts me. I've known him my whole life, and... and t-this isn't the first time. But for a nice man who gave me such a beautiful present and offered some protection after the death of my father... well, how else should I pay the favor? My family is truly indebted to the Bucciarelli. Your boss is a truly kind man," she said, fingering the diamond pendant that hung around her neck and sighing. This was perhaps the only viable explanation, and if this man was truly an underling of Bucciarelli, he probably wouldn't try to tamper with the Boss's, ahem, more intimate matters.  This would be a tricky guise to hold. If her memory served correctly, she could easily be playing Yvette Amalberti, Bucciarelli's French goddaughter and a rumored illicit affair of his. Scandalous enough, and from Charlotte's experience, seemed vulnerable enough to be whisked away into such a fantasy. Did she have enough knowledge to play Yvette? She hadn't quite researched the role. The Bucciarelli may have been one of Nik's contacts, and Charlotte may have had interacted with the girl several times, but were the rumors true? Charlotte wasn't too sure. But she would run with it... until she could either break this guy's front or make a break for it. Bucciarelli's jewels could be stolen tomorrow night. But that would be a wasted night in Charlotte's book. And due to the risk that she puts herself in every time she decides to go shopping, she would never want to waste a night.  She smiled to the Italian and pulled the card key out. "All I wanted to do was get ready and surprise him. He would never expect it. I aim to please," she said. "I aim to make his heart mine, as that is all he deserves." She turned around to unlock the door and paused a moment. Within her experience, no one would truly be this innocent or so truly passionate for the older man. Yvette Amalberti did have something up her sleeve as she swished her red wine back and forth  and gave calculated, romantic glances to Bucciarelli. "Though I do suppose I have time for yours as well, before he arrives," she purred. She placed the card into the card reader, listened to the satisfying click of the unlocking door. She removed the key card and pocketed as the door opened.  "I'm not the only one requiring access to mon parrain's room," she said, sitting herself down on the bed, her eyes quickly scanning for a safe or jewelry box, and then meeting the Italian's emerald eyes. "Just tell me... what are you here for? Where is your card key, mon ami? I am sure mon parrain would have given his underlings cards, especially because it wouldn't make sense for him to ask to have food to delivered to his room while he is making merry downstairs." She crossed her arms, holding tightly to "Yvette." She wasn't going to drop it until she could deem herself safe to start her shopping spree. And if it entailed charming this obstacle, or convincing the obstacle she was a trusted mistress, so be it. If he was a simple robber, she'd allow him to divide the pickings. If he was going for something other than the jewels, she wouldn't care either way. Bucciarelli was a bastard to broer, and any damage done to the man would be of no concern to her.

LAIKA OF GS!

[Feliciano Vargas]

Words: 524

Tags: Charlotte Anri van Rosenfeld

Notes: Now the fun really begins

She was a seasoned liar, Feli had to give her that. Her acting was top notch. If his life hadn’t so frequently depended on recognizing a well disguised bluff, he would have been taken in, just as he assumed many others were. She was definitely charming, scarier still, she knew that fact all too well, that charm was just another tool in her tool box. Feli smiled brightly when she offered herself to him, he wondered how many were taken in by that offer alone… and what ended up happening to the poor souls when they took her up on it.

“Oh, what a kind offer, Bella!” He said warmly. “That would be quite the honor, to spend time with someone as beautiful as you!” Before she could respond, he moved with practiced ease, pinning her to the wall, her wrists collected in one of his hands while the other pressed a small blade to neck. “Beautiful… but not who you are pretending to be.” He tilted his head, searching her gaze as though he might find the answer there. “I would be terrible at my job if I could not recognize those close to Bucciarelli. Not to mention… you said he gave you this card personally and yet you don’t remember what he looked like when I arrived. To be confused for a middle aged Mafia Don… I’m really hurt, Bella." He smiled, no hint of malice in his eyes as he looked at her. “I’ll ask you again, Miss… who are you and why are you here?”

Of course, his position was pretty precarious, despite the knife being pointed at her throat. She was not supposed to be here, not any more than he was, Feli was sure of that. But that meant little in the long run. No matter who she was, she was a witness, she’s seen his face, spoke to him…. If he let her live, she could easily give his description to the authorities from there it would only be a matter of time until he was discovered. What would his family think… what would Beck think… what would Luddi— Feli stopped that thought dead in its tracks, he couldn’t even bear to contemplate such a terrible outcome. So then what? Kill her? It was the most obvious choice, the safest one. It should be all too simple for him. He had to do it, to keep his world in order. And yet… His eyes flickered as he continued to gaze at her.

“You’re quite the professional, Miss… that’s your biggest tell… you’re too practiced with your confrontations… no halts, no stumbles… you respond to every question with grace. Really, Bella, it’s magnificent! So what are you here for? You’ve done your research, to attempt to impersonate such an obscure connection to Bucciarelli, but not enough to really infiltrate…. So a short job…. A thief then, no?” He almost smiled at that. Maybe he could work this newest development to his advantage. Stolen goods would certainly shift the motives away from a contract killing. If they were careful, maybe both of them could walk out of this alive….

made by MISSO for KAT