02-18-2014, 06:32 PM
Amory grinned a little at his comment, nodding in agreement with the idea. As a general rule, that was indeed how things worked with the Dons. Their talents did have quite a decent amount of say as it comes to input, even if they were new hires, and especially in comparison to what the stagehands were allowed. Many of them would never speak to the Don unless he was feeling particularly talkative, Amory assumed. It really is a trivial thing of him to ask. I have no problem helping a guy out once in a while. Absent-mindedly, his gaze flickered over to where the bouquet stood, with its differing blooms and colors. My Angel. He thought again of the possibilities of what this name recurring from his dream could mean, whom he could have actually been speaking with last night when he thought he had been curled up at home. I was at home at the time, wasn't I? Many questions rushed him, but their muddled activity ceased as Sam spoke up again, so mention his reason for being there to help him change.
The songbird cringed, noting that he must've acted strange about it. This is no different than another stagehand's help. He can tell you're acting strange. Chuckling, Amory shook his head. "I've no problem with it. I guess attention in general is something I'm not used to off the stage," he explained, even as he felt as thought that was not a good enough answer. Rather, he almost avoided the attention off of stage at times, because he truly wanted the focus on his voice, not him. Once the focus shifted to him, a person could become close. A man could get me into another sticky situation. I just hardly got away from Carpi's hit... A new focus lit his eyes, but his facial expression would show no change. "A valet, huh? I can imagine the people you'd meet," he spoke thoughtfully, "Must've been an interesting job. Some folks just don't know when to stop pointing fingers, though." Amory stood still as Sam adjusted his tie and brushed some lint off of his suit, a small grin resting at his lips at the compliment. "I appreciate that." He replied earnestly, though the idea of wives ignoring their husbands was a bit humorous to him. Yes, women came onto him, and mostly on those nights that he performed, but he had no interest there.
There was an instant mood shift in Amory as Giuseppe's death was mentioned. His body tensed a bit, his hands balling into fists for a moment before a pang in his right hand made him release them both. Looking down at it blankly, he sighed a little and then let his gaze travel elsewhere. "Yeah, mob business," he replied after a few quiet moments, still unsettled by the news, but not completely saddened by it. "Don Giuseppe didn't have a lot of friends, it's almost not too much of a surprise that he bit it. It is something, though. Those newsies eat it up." He spoke casually enough, but his brows furrowed themselves slightly as his confusion about the past day's events surfaced again. It's better off that he is gone, after all, but who would have offed him? He didn't actually seem to be in a lot of trouble. Hell, he called a hit out on me, not... Amory's eyes widened a little, lips parting as he pieced together a seam of the puzzle. The person whom warned me of the hit, they'd been following me that night. They could have followed me home. They could have been the one I was talking to... Amory shivered a little, not sure he enjoyed that idea. I could have that blood on my hands. This was the thought that trouble him the most, but others followed. Who was he?
His whirring thoughts distracted him from some of Sam's explanation of the Palmaide, but Amory snapped back to before the other had finished applying it to his hair. He did not speak until Sam was finished, and standing behind him, the weight of his hand's resting on Amory's shoulders. A small smile lifted his lips as he inspected his reflection, then laughed a little. "I could've used some of this last night," he commented, a compliment to Sam's use of it, "Thank you. It's a different look, and I'm liking it."
|