Al snapped his hand back away from the food suddenly wary of being killed over hunger, he'd seen people killed for less. And he wasn't that hungry anyways, it was just there in front of him, something to do. The laugh and giggle didn't make him any less wary about taking her food, there were some crazy broads here that giggled as they disemboweled... or so he heard, he never went looking to see if it was true.
"Got it. Most mothers are like that, must be something in the water, eh?" He leaned back against the counter looking across the room again, quickly making tabs of the faces and movements, purely out of habit. He did notice that Miyuku had gone, a bit early for her job, but whatever. "Me? It must be five going on six years. Although you could say I was born into the family, I've always been around these people. There was one of the older guys, died of lung cancer and three bullets to the head recently, used to baby sit me when I was younger." He shrugged in remembrance, he had been like an uncle to him after all, it was a sad day when he died.

"Drunk already?" Firo asked tauntingly before grabbing the shot slid down to him. Whether or not she was starting to get drunk he knew that this was going to be a long, long contest. Shrugging he gulped it down just as quickly as before, though the buzzing was starting to turn into euphoria, the case with drinking alcohol. "Anything I can drink to," he answered, "depression, celebration, recreation, competition."

Claire shook her head once more, her letting out a snort. "Not until I start giving out lap dances," she said, before downing another shot. How many was that now? She didn't keep track, she was too busy trying to hold her liquor in. She had been through worse though, getting drunk on a yacht was not a fun thing. This was simply a walk in the park.

"So what, you're a loose drunk?" Firo asked with a laugh. Glancing at the number of shot glasses on the table it was evident that the contest barely started. What was it so far, seven total? Grabbing a glass he stared at it for a moment, swishing around the colored liquid before downing it. Maybe he should set his next one on fire before drinking it. Too bad he didn't have a match. Otherwise it would have been a neat trick.

He shrugged, not caring how Gio reacted to his statement. It was sound, there was little room for questioning and holes within it, therefore it was safe for him to use. Besides, he knew a couple of others who had done the exact same thing, the odd few they had actually been able to catch. Although none were very important and, as Gio had already pointed out, were easily replaced. Much to his, and others, dismay. Pausing a little, he noticed as well how she seemed to struggle a little to keep smiling. It was barely noticeable, he was just good and filtering out changes in expression and such. The moment the smile turned though, he decided it would be a little safer to take half a step back.

Cameron listened to her curiously, and he had to fight tooth and nail not to allow his own knowing smirk to rise to the surface. Not as smart as they thought? Eventually gave up? No no no, she had it all wrong. The police simply decided to go into more secretive means of filtering out the important mafia.
“I’d rather remain on the safe side though. At least until my name dies down on their lists.” He answered softly. Gio was certainly intimidating, the way she was looking at him, how her entire appearance seemed to have changed in a split second. This lady was capable of killing him in less than a minute with complete ease. Once that thought rushed through his mind, it brought a very faint frown to his own expression. He would need to be careful.

Though Gio seemed to be giving Cameron a hard time, she honestly did like him. He wasn't as fearful of her as most of the men she knew, though she could tell she set him on edge. Without turning her head she placed her hand flat on the bar beside her. She tapped it once and only once but still, seconds later, the bartender set another glass of vodka identical to the one she'd had a few minutes ago down at the tip of her fingers. She finally turned her gaze away from Cameron for a few seconds, just long enough to give the bartender a slight nod and a winning smile.

Turning once more to face him, Gio noticed that he'd backed away a few inches. Once more her appearance instantly shifted; with the way it did this so often, a person might think she were bipolar. "You've got it all wrong... Once you reach the top of their list and stay there for a while. They get spooked and drop you to the bottom if not off the list completely." She grinned at him like a child.

"Only if you want me to be," Claire laughed as she played with her glass before drinking it. She wondered if there were any ways to spice up this competition, her wondering if he was thinking the same. "Aye, do something entertaining with your drink," she told him, slightly out of it. "These contests can only go on for so long..."

"Like what? Drink it off of you?" Firo asked jokingly. Perhaps they were both loose drunks. I swear she's psychic. Or maybe they were just two great minds thinking alike. "Got a lighter?" If she did, they'd be playing with fire and the possibility of burning their lip but it was like she said, these types of contests could only go on for so long before they became a drag.

"Awww, you ruined the prize!" Claire mocked with a grin, as she got a shot of water to ease her throat for the time being. A lighter, eh? Now we're cooking with gas... she mused, before she managed to steal one off of an unsuspecting drunk. "Well now I do.." she said as she held it up between her fingers.

"So you are a loose drunk," Firo murmured, watching her take a drink of water. He seriously needed one of those too, he could feel his throat burning up. "Mind if I borrow it?" he asked, "I want to spice up the competition." He could recall a day when a past girlfriend had gone out drinking with him and they happened to have a lighter on them. Back then he was at the tender age of sixteen, but it was old enough to be at a bar so she had showed him how to put out the flame and drink without burning his lip.

Loor giggled mischievously. "Must be something in the water." she repeated in agreement, nodding.
Before she could say anything more about water and their connection to mothers, he started to tell her about the uncle that died. She didn't say anything for a long moment.
"You still miss him?" she asks, although it was a stupid question, it was the only thing she could think of saying.

"Psh, says you..." Claire scoffed as she threw the lighter in his direction. Whatever he was about to do, she had more than likely seen it before. "I'm going to die of laughter if you end up setting something on fire.." she said as she watched him closely.

Catching the lighter with one hand, Firo grinned as he flicked it on and lit the drink, watching it flare up before dying down into a low flame. Throwing back the lighter he rolled his eyes. "Oh sure, picking on the adventurous guy." Blowing the flame out quickly, he drank the shot, narrowly avoiding a burn. The liquid itself had become pretty warm.

Claire caught the lighter with a grin. "Suck, blow, and swallow..." she nodded and watched him. "Looks like you're a pro at that," she teased before she laughed, doing the same with hers then drinking. It only made the tequila go down rougher though.

"Who? Mad Georgio? I think you could ask anyone in the mafia and they'd say that they miss the old bastard. The only ones who don't miss him are the cops; that man could deliver four hundred pounds of drugs and kill seven people all in a night's work. He wasn't really my uncle, it just felt like it." Al smiled remembering the old man that used to watch over him. Oh how he looked up to him, idolized him. He looked at Loor and stealthily snuck in another piece of food.

"Mad Georgio? That was his name?" she said with a slight giggle. "Nickname, no?"
"Four hundred pounds of drugs? Seven people?" she exclaimed, an expression of awe on her face as she mentally made note to write that down later.
"Wow, he was really on task then. What about you? What's your record?" she asks with a slight flirty smile and a waver of her eyebrows. She giggles. She dismisses the stealing of food just for that moment, no longer as ravenous as she had been only a few moments ago.

// Gaah.. sorry for so little! D; \\

Al gave her a sideways look, Mad Georgio was pretty well known, or at least infamous. She was either really new or kind of stupid. "You mean you've never heard of Mad Georgio? He was a legend... well at least to me." He lowered his voice at the end, looked down at his empty glass. Downing the rest of his drink he looked back up at Loor, "You want to know about my records? My best job? I'm not really much of anything and I don't really keep records." he chuckled at himself for making up something so dumb. He didn't know his records because he never asked what was in the packages he was delivering, and he only had ever killed one person and it was an accident, not something he was particularly proud of. Al caught a glimpse of the clock above the bar, "Speaking of, I have to get going shortly to make sure my next job gets done. Nice meeting you Loor, perhaps I'll see you around more often now that you're family?" He said with a smile. He stood up and walked off towards the door, he would have made it too if he had been watching the thugs that were there acting as standing guards. One of them stuck out his foot and like clockwork Al tripped over it, just missing the door frame he fell, sprawled out in the path. Laughter rang out from the bullies, as he tried to get himself collected and back together. He hated them, always had and he got them back in his own ways when he could, piss and coffee wasn't really his favorite but these three got it all the time. It was time for him to get to the docks anyways and get the delivery done.
((I'm going to be gone for a short while))

Alexiial walked the streets of Cicely. His long coat was sweeping the ground beneath him as his firey eyes watched the people around him through a pair of dark sunglasses. The male was staying in a hotel on the other side of town, but now he was searching for the Mafia's headquarters. Heavy boots clicked and clopped against the sidewalk as the man made it further into the city. Occassionally, he'd look down at a slip of paper in his hand. It was a small map and directions given to him by the mafia's leader. He had emailed it to him seeing that the male knew nothing of Cicely, Italy.

Alexiial's sword was tucked and hidden away safely and securely under his coat. Any other cop that were to ever find his weapon would put him in danger, for his badge was concealed in the security vault in the hotel. He didn't want to carry it around and be found out by the mafia group.

Miyuku woke up when she heard her alarm clock screaming she yawned, and stretched her body. Getting down from the bed she walked to the bathroom too wash the sleep away from her face. "Ughhh...why am I always the one getting stuck with these late night missions...." she grumbled to herself. "This is such a pain in the butt...." she continued to curse slightly to herself.

She went back to her room opening her closet she pulled out a fitting out fit consisting of black denim shorts, a soft grey t-shirt with a vest pulled over it. She grabbed a knife from the table beside her and concealed them in her stockings, she pulled on a pair of heels. She left her room after grabbing her bike keys and a normal hand gun. She just had to reason with the guy...and if reasoning didn't work then killed. She shrugged either way the job had to be done, she yawned before heading down the stairs...the party still raging with noise and even more drunk men.

The noises of the party were still loud and audible as he made his way to the garage he left his motor scooter at. Al glanced back up at the party wondering when he would be able to meet the other new members of the family, and also a slight wonderment if Loor was going to be alright left with the senior members. He knew how harsh they could be, and he had been in the family longer than most of them and they still treated him like crap. Pulling his helmet on and snapping the visor down he was ready to go, a last minute check to make sure that he had his faux pizza delivery hot bag and his small arms. He could never be careful enough, even if he was just the delivery boy of the Family, he could get in some big trouble. And not just tripping off the docks bad, he could run into the cops, but he would never talk. Ever.