They studied each other like two angry cats in a trash-strewn alleyway, keeping their distance from each other but never speaking. Ricardo stood vigilant near the door to the HQ; it was late, and the only crew member to remain behind was the Don himself, attending to correspondence and various other minutia of the day. Cecelia stood closer to his office door, clearly more intent on upholding her specific duty. Her Russian last name of Alexin, a variation on the word 'defender', was something she took quite seriously. No one yet knew of the more specific, more intimate details of the physical arrangement that had sprung up between the Russian and the Don, but Ricardo had his suspicions, and resented her for them.

The door burst open then on a blast of Chicago wind that brought with it the tiny snowflakes that had begun to fall the hour before. A tiny blonde erupted through it, heading full-speed into the building with a happy smile that Ricardo never saw from his position behind her. He reacted without thinking, descending on the hapless young woman and wrenching her arm up behind her while simultaneously shoving her into a wall so hard that it rattled Cesare's door. When the girl cried out, Cecelia was there in a flash, kidney punching Ricardo with a fierce precision that forced him to let go of the arm he was torqueing. Cesare's door opened then, and when he stepped outside to see what all the commotion was, Cecelia wrapped an arm around the smaller woman's shoulders and pushed her gently towards him. As Ricardo straightened himself out behind Cecelia, she couldn't see the ire, but she could feel it like a heat on her back. As the bodyguard stepped towards her, she used Cesare's line of sight ahead of her to gauge Ricardo's height and distance beyond her. With the speed of a viper, her elbow shot out behind her and she broke Ricardo's nose.

"Had he taken moment to look, he'd have seen resemblance," she said by way of apology to her boss.

Cesare stood in the doorway of his office half expecting to see Ricardo and Cecelia in a fist fight. He was only half wrong, as it seemed the only one putting a real fight up was the young Russian. Ricardo regained himself, clutching his nose in an attempt to stop the flow of blood pouring from it. They'd been cold with each other at best ever since Cecelia volunteered herself into Cesare's service.

All at once, Cesare was drowned in a heap of gold hair as two smallish arms wrapped around his neck in a frightened exaggerated motion. He took a step backwards as the young woman's momentum carried him and eventually wrapped his own arms around her as well as the pained surprised sobs quieted, only then did Cesare realize who it was...

"Emilia?"

The young woman pulled her head back to look at him, the tell-tale blue of her eyes left no doubt, "Hey Cesare..."

His eyes got wide as he put an arm around her shoulder and looked up at his bodyguards as the realization that one of them had taken hold of his sister dawned on him. The thought must have also occurred to Ricardo as well as he immediately turned his head away from his boss. "Cecelia pull over a chair, please." Cesare asked before looking up towards Ricardo as he moved his sister to the seat, "Ricardo, go out at grab us something to eat eh?" Ricardo's face went red. It was the first time Cesare had sent him away and kept anyone else with him before. Casting a sidelong glance at Cecelia, he begrudgingly opened the door and stepped outside.

Cesare sat in the chair next to his younger sister, a million questions swirling in his head. Why was she here? How did she find him? What would made her look for him?

"Emilia, are you alright? What on earth are you doing here?" he prodded as his hand rested on her shoulder.

She took a moment to survey her surroundings, taking a momentary look at Cecelia before looking back at him. "I came out here to live with my future husband. I knew you lived here and mom and dad don't like him ju-"

"-wait wait! You're engaged?!" Cesare cut her off. She promptly revealed the quite expensive ring on her finger to him, "Yes, just two weeks ago! Isn't it beautiful? He had to work for months to be able to buy it! Anyway, mom and dad don't like him because his family isn't made of money, but I love him and that's that."

Cesare was awash with emotion. His kid sister was sitting in the middle of his crime headquarters showing off a rock that a poor working boy had bought her. He was overjoyed to see her, preoccupied about business, unsure about her future husband, and scared of her opinion of his work all at once.

"So, what, you just picked up and moved west with your fiancé?"

"Well...yes." she replied with a short hesitation as if she needed to rethink the order of events in her head, "Jared is working at a paper factory just outside of town, and we've found a small apartment. I knew you lived here and started asking around, eventually some nice police officers gave me this address. What is this place anyway?"

A lump formed in his throat, he didn't know how much she knew, and he didn't know what to reveal, "It's my office. This is where I work."

She looked slyly around, "The doorman's a bit rough isn't he?" she asked venomously before looking up at Cecelia, "Thank you for stopping him." She drifted back to Cesare, "So who is she? Your secretary, then?" she asked sarcastically at his insinuation of this place simply being an office.

Cesare looked up at Cecelia and grinned, "A manner of one, so to speak. This is Cecelia Alexin." Emilia grinned with him before standing and extending her hand to Cecelia, "It's lovely to meet you Cecelia, I'm Emilia Torretta."

Then, turning her attention back to her brother, "Cesare, Jared has told me that he'd very much like to meet you before our wedding, what with you being the only male in the family that won't judge him for his work. Will you go see him? Please say 'yes.'" her eyes turned that pleading shape he knew when they were children.

"Of course Emilia. Tell him I'll go see him at work tomorrow."

At that her face lit up and she threw her arms around him in gratitude. Shortly after she excused herself from the building under the guise of having more errands to run and to deliver the message to her future husband. Cesare sat at the table for a moment as Cecelia closed the door behind her. He thought for a second, then looking up at Cecelia, said, "Cecelia, I want you to come with me tomorrow. Tell Ricardo to stay and watch over things here while we're gone."

He stood and returned to his office with a nod. The closing of his office door corresponding to the opening of the front door, where Ricardo entered, his arms full of food...

"Behind in all moves. You are not proper bodyguard," Cecelia said emotionlessly. "Your job is to stay here tomorrow while boss and I see about girl's paramour," she said, struggling through the word with her accent. Ricardo smirked, and it was the last mistake he made. Cecelia knew where this would go the minute he heard that he'd be delegated to office lackey. Approaching him slowly, Cecelia watched the mild confusion in his eyes as they shifted from angry to cocky to appraising. Before he completed the thought circuit, Cecelia stepped just past him and then dropped low, sweeping her leg as she did so. Both Ricardo's legs went out from under him and she was on his chest in a heartbeat, fist pistoning into his Adam's apple in one concise move. As he gasped for his life's breath in a litter of takeout bags, she leaned into his face.

"Don't take personally. You are shit bodyguard. Go learn, come back. I teach if you can't find teacher. This ends tonight, you and me. Get over it, because it does not help boss. Strengthen with your presence, not weaken," she said quietly before rising and walking out the door.

The next morning, a very bruised, very quiet Ricardo was smart enough to show up and follow direction. Maybe not respect, but a grudging lesson had been gained the night before. Cecelia walked past him with a nod and rapped on the boss' door. He emerged, and after looking between the two that were both sworn to him, he seemed to make an internal decision. Silently, he walked past Ricardo and, with Cecelia in tow, he exited the HQ and into the blinding reflection of sun off of fallen snow.

Cecelia paused as he opened the passenger door of his car for her, completely unfamiliar with this courtesy. After a moment she lowered herself inside the Alfa Romeo and he closed the door, circling the vehicle and inserting himself into the driver's seat. 

It was a cold drive, but neither seemed to mind it. It keep the need for inane pleasantries to a minimum and sharpened their senses. The trip to the paper mill wasn't long, but by the quick degradation of business to warehouse district, it was a planet away.

And, of course, the smell. Cecelia turned the lapels of her coat up to cover her lower face, but there was no avoiding the chemical wash of sulfur that treated paper at the mill. Once Cesare had parked the car, though, the smell was tolerable, if not acceptable. Again, he opened her door as she gave him a sideways look of confusion, but it was quickly dismissed. Business was at hand, even if it was of a familial sort.

Entering the large warehouse, Cesare led the way with Cecelia just behind and to the left of him. Some would say you never get near a gun because you hinder the draw. Cecelia was of the thinking that she was simply there to prevent the hindering. While she would take a bullet for Cesare Torretta, she also trusted implicitly that he had lived this long because he knew what he was doing and could use his weapon effectively. Within a few moments' time, he'd ascertained where in the building the young boy worked, and they were on their way.

Jared looked up from a bundled stack of paper as the two entered, and froze. Not a stupid youth, this one, Cecelia thought approvingly. Cesare tried on a polite smile and extended a hand while Cecelia stood back at a form of parade rest. Pieces of conversation drifted over to her as she tried, respectfully, to avoid eavesdropping.

"Emilia's brother...nice to..."

"...Sir. I'm honored to finally..."

"...love her. I hope you..."

"You seem like a good kid, Jared, but I hardly..."

"...little trouble. The ring, she loves it but..."

"...the hell have you gotten yourself into?!?"

Cecelia edged forward as Cesare's voice and temper rose. Putting herself in his line of vision behind Jared, she shook her head slightly. Not here. There are ears.

Cesare escorted his future brother-in-law out of the main room and into a side door that led into what seemed to be intended as a storage room with many different varieties of boxes stacked haphazardly throughout. The dark musty room wrapped around the three of them as Cecelia made sure to take hold of the door after they entered. Cesare now spoke uncaring if she heard or not as he paced the room in front of Jared.

"Jared, what would make you think that taking money from those guys is a good idea?!"

the young man, obviously a bit more distraught upon seeing Cesare's reaction, put his hands on his head, "I don't know, I just...She saw that ring and...I wanted to impress her, I thought if I worked double shifts and some overtime I might be able to make it work, but they started adding interest and it stacked up so fast I couldn't keep up!" he leaned against the wall of the room as Cecelia looked on.

Cesare couldn't help but sympathize with the guy. He'd wanted to do something special for his sister, and he could respect that, but he'd done something stupid by trusting a loan shark in Chicago. He never had a chance of being able to pay them back, he'd be under their boot forever.

"Who is it you took the money from, Jared?"

He took a breath in before answering, "Rob Paulson."

Cesare didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the news, he paced a couple more steps before stopping in front of Jared, "Alright, how much cash do you have on you?"

"What?"

"How much money do you have right now?!"

"Maybe fifty dollars?"

"Give it to me."

Jared looked confusedly at Cesare's extended hand,

"Give me what you have Jared, and I'll take care of it."

Not being in a position to deny an offer of help, Jared emptied his wallet of all the cash he had on hand and surrendered it to Cesare. Understanding how hard this situation was for his future family, Cesare put a hand on the man's shoulder, "Don't worry Jared, I'm going to take care of this. You go home and don't think about this anymore."

With that, Cesare made his way through the door, with Cecelia in tow, on their way to call on Paulson. He'd accept $50 and a request to stop loaning in South Side, or he'd accept a bullet to the head. When they got to the car, Cesare allowed Cecelia to enter before getting in the driver's seat. He started the car and looked at her, "Cecelia, when we get there..." he closed his eyes and sighed, "I'm going to see if we can talk sense to Paulson, but... the guy thinks he runs things. Has a block he treats like a fiefdom. There's a chance he won't see sense and it may get aggressive very quick. I just want you to be prepared for any possibility..."

The corner of Cecelia's mouth quirked imperceptibly. "I am always prepared. Is my job," she remarked as the car revved to life and headed back towards the business district.

They passed the Dead Poet's headquarters and continued on in the direction of Robert Paulson's allotted territory, which wasn't much more than a city block of rundown buildings and businesses on the verge of going under. 

Times were hard, but Paulson's grip on the money flow throughout the small area was even harder. Not having an office of his own to speak of, he'd set up camp in a butcher's shop that clung to life only because of him stationing himself in it. 

As Cesare pulled up to the curb, two wise guys stopped slouching against the wall and dropped their smokes simultaneously. It was a practiced move, meant to look tough, but it impressed neither of the two occupants of the Alfa Romeo as they emerged from it. Again behind and to the left of Cesare, Cecelia followed him through the doorway, both ignoring the mad dog stares that the two thugs were throwing their way. 

Inside, the smell wasn't much better than the paper mill. Little went to waste here as the butcher made use of nearly every part of each beast he processed, and the air quality reflected it. Again, Cecelia found herself trying to refrain from breathing in the scent of offal as Cesare came to a halt in front of an odd looking man that looked as if he'd eaten all the wrong parts of a cow. Besides the butcher at work behind the counter, Paulson only had two other men in attendance, one with an arm in a sling. Cecelia dismissed him immediately and studied the other, surmising the location of his gun and, therefore, his dominate hand by the unsightly bulge under the right side of his cheap, ill-fitted suit jacket. Centering her weight and keeping her hands loose by her sides, she gave the appearance of being relaxed as she prepared to fight.

Cesare leaned onto the counter in front of Paulson, extracting a cigarette from his pack and placing it between his lips. "Good afternoon, Rob." he said casually as he blew a lungful of smoke into the air.

"Don Torretta, to what do I owe the... pleasure." the last word rolled out of his mouth like a bad flavor he wished to expel from his body. Cesare looked at him sidelong and pointed to him with his cigarette burning between his fingers,

"Rob, you've got a good thing going here; you're making a nice profit off of the workers in South Side, and I've let you well enough alone for a long time." Cesare said amiably to the large man as a guard shifted behind him, "Today...today I'm here to request something of you. I'm only going to ask once."

Rob smugly crossed his arms at Cesare's presumption that he somehow owed him something but Cesare continued, "It's been brought to my attention that you have a large debt due from a Jared Maclin, a worker in the paper mill. I want you to settle up that debt as a favor to me."

Cesare took another puff of his cigarette as Paulson looked over his shoulder and nodded to the man in the sling. The lackey darted into a back room and returned with an accounting book. Rob, watched Cesare as he opened the book and searched for the name, "Mr. Maclin owes me several thousand dollars, Don Torretta..."

"Not anymore he doesn't." Cesare said flatly as he placed fifty dollars on the counter between them, "I thank you for the favor, Rob."

The veins on the man's neck began to bulge as his temper rose towards Cesare. He motioned towards the bill on the counter, "What is this? Some kind of fucking joke?" he growled, suddenly forgetting his manners.

"That," Cesare stated, "Is a gratuity for your help in clearing this up for me."

Rob slammed the book closed, causing both his lackeys to jump at the sudden tense sound, "Why the hell would I write off thousands of dollars in debt for a fifty?"

Cesare looked up at him, "Because I asked you to, Rob."

"Who the hell do you think you are? You want to come in here and fuck around in my business because it makes things convenient for you?!"

Cesare put out his cigarette on the counter and pushed himself back into a standing position.

"Well, Rob," He said as he brushed his hands on the side of his jacket, "I'm going to guess that's a 'no'. Fair enough, but I told you I would only ask one time. Now here's what's going to happen. You're going to take that fifty as me buying out your operation. You're going to leave that book, I'm going to erase Maclin's name and go about running your business, and you're going to leave Chicago never to return." Cesare turned to square his body to the man, feeling Cecelia tensing behind him, "Or there's going to be a problem, Paulson. Which is it?"

Paulson made some sort of noise that must have indicated that this was indeed a problem. As his eyes narrowed and his arm moved, Cecelia trusted Cesare to engage the largest target as she reached out and roughly cranked the bad wing of the first associate on her way past him to the second, who'd already reached for his piece and was drawing it out. Cecelia grabbed the offending arm, broke it with an efficiency that had to be seen to be believed, and with a grind of cartilage against bone shard, pointed his own gun at his head as his finger spasmed behind the trigger guard. The bullet entered his right temple and existed the left, sending more bloody chunks onto the butcher's counter, where the butcher himself had backed into the rear wall and tried to make himself as small, and unnoticeable, as ever.

The screams of pain from the slinged man brought the two thugs inside before everyone went temporarily deaf from the gunshot. One stood stupidly confused and blinking, having never engaged in any actual conflict before. Cecelia approached fast, reaching with both hands to grasp both sides of his head and driving it into the forehead of his partner. Both went down, but only the one she'd used as a battering ram had been knocked out; the second man was already trying to get his feet back under him. Watching her advantage slip away, Cecelia delivered a boot into his stomach as he reached his hands and knees, then dropped her body onto his back and used his hair as a handle with the intention of smashing his face into the floor a few hundred times. He was twice her weight, though, and had more survival instinct than she'd anticipated. Heaving upwards, he flipped himself over, taking her with him and landing on her hard enough to knock the air out of her lungs. As stars danced in a sky that didn't yet exist, she did the only thing left for her to do...she reached between his legs, grabbed his groin, and twisted her hand a full 180 degrees. 

It worked, but it didn't dislodge him from her. As he bent into an indecipherable shape atop her, she struggled to push his weight off of her as she tried to regain both her breathing and read of the room, searching out her boss.

Cesare turned his body sidelong as he drew his pistol, giving a thin profile to Robert who produced his own and fired simultaneously. Cesare's bullet struck him plush in the neck sending an arterial spray far up onto the ceiling of the shop as Paulson toppled backwards into the space behind the counter. Cesare leapt over the counter after him and was met with a spray of blood that streaked across his suit diagonally as if a master artist had simply moved a brush of red paint steadily across him in a perfect motion. Landing, he beheld Robert clutching at his neck as the undeniable gurgles of his blood choked throat escaped from his lips. Cesare heard a crash and turned to see Cecelia driving the head of one goon into another. Satisfied with her work, Cesare looked down at Paulson, wondering to himself whether to help end everything with a bullet to the head.

Instead, Cesare emptied the rest of his clip into Paulson's stomach in rapid succession, watching his body jerk with each new addition of lead to his anatomy. When the choking sound finally ceased, Cesare turned and discovered Cecelia laying on her back with one of Robert's goons hovering over her. Without thought, Cesare bounded back over the counter and took too large strides before delivering a devastating kick to the man's jaw and pulling him off of her. A familiar rage welled up inside of him as he knelt next to the man, who was too concerned about his groin to tend to his face. Cesare punished him mercilessly for it. On one knee, Cesare drove his fist into the man's face, each blow turning it into an unrecognizable mesh of blood and tender flesh plastered over a skull. Cesare continued past the whimpers, past the desperate flail of the arms, past the shallow intermediate breaths, and pounded the man's head until it limply bounced against the floor of the shop. His fist was stained red by the time he gained control again.

He turned around to see Cecelia already standing again behind him. Breathing heavily, Cesare huffed, "Grab the book."

As Cecelia moved off obediently, Cesare wondered if he would ever be able to tell his sister exactly how he'd taken care of her husband's problem...