Jessica practically drug Roger back to the den where the four men were already quickly tidying up. Charlie was taking out parts of the liquor cabinet and throwing it in the fire that had been built out back; muddy, snow prints tracked the floor from the door to the den. Ivan was moving Gino's body onto a plastic liner on the tiles of the kitchen, a trail of blood and other bodily fluids led from where he'd been to where he was now resting. Killian and Brailen were cutting the carpet and taking patches out to the fire, also contributing to the muddy, snow prints.

All four of them paused and looked to their two new bosses. Roger chuckled as Jess stared, almost in disbelief at how efficient the men were.

Roger smirked, "And this, is how we start cleaning up a mess..." He removed his hand from Jess' and placed both on her shoulders with a strong grip, digging his thumbs into the muscles there and rubbing. He leaned close and kissed her neck before one hand slipped low and a pop could be heard, Jessica jumping just a little from the smack. Roger stepped out from behind her and waved his hands, "Carry on, but teach her why we do what we do. She wants to learn... So spare no detail."

Hopping over wine and blood stains in the carpet, Roger made his way over to where Gino had been... The mans bowels had already emptied themselves and the stain in the carpet was unmistakable. His nose crinkled at the lovely, ripe smell. No matter how much you did this job, that smell was never something to look forward to. Shaking his head and bringing himself back to the moment, Roger continued to Ivan and struck up conversation.

"So whaddaya think for dear old dad?" He grinned, obviously having zero remorse for the moment. Even to the men who'd served Gino in all his glory thought it was strange how little his own son cared for him to be dead, but Roger had given up on his father years ago. Strange how abuse can do that for you.

Ivan looked at Roger. "We can put in trunk and drive into lake..."

Roger shook his head, "Na, I think he should actually catch that flight tomorrow and really go home to Sicily. Maybe Gran'mama can bury her son." He frowned, "Or, we put him on the manifest and then incinerate him at the morgue. Tonight. Or put him in a crate with cement, and ship him to the middle of the ocean on a liner, and have some of the men paid off to dump the crate."

Ivan shrugged, knowing Roger was simply thinking out loud. There were many ways to dispose of a body... He just needed the right one for Gino.

Jes stared around at the gruesome mess. Her first instinct was to immediately begin scrubbing the residue from the walls and grout. But logically she knew that would do no good until the men were done tracking their muddy bootprints to the fire and back. As far as she was concerned, all of the carpet needed to come out. She'd replace it with something more to her liking later. However, there was still a lot  in the way. 

The men were all busy, hauling things here there and everywhere. So Jes decided to start with the wine. There were plenty of bottles that hadn't broken in the fall. And some of them were very good vintages. Carrying as many bottles as she could, she juggled them into the kitchen and began organizing them on the counter by year. It took far more time than it should have, but the meticulousness of it helped calm her nerves. 

It was just like cleaning house, she told herself as she reached for the broom and dustpan. Dragging the trashbin along with her, she began sweeping up the crushed glass and splintered wood that littered the floor. Most of it had to be common sense, right? She mused to herself as she made her first trip to the fire. It was smaller than she expected... and hotter. A sharp contrast to the biting cold that cut through the thin shirt covering her bare breasts. Charlie smiled as he watched her doing her best to haul the trashcan - filled to the brim with shards and splinters - over her head and into the fire. Glass and debris rained down... into the fire but on her too as she yelped and dropped the bin. 

Charlie rushed to her side, taking the trashcan from her with gentle hands.  "Not...  that way, lass," he said, placing a steadying hand on her lower back as she danced away from the raining glass. Setting the bin on the ground, he fished the wood pieces from it and tossing it onto the fire. "Glass doesn't burn. And if it gets too hot it'll shatter... shoot out like bullets," he explained with a kind but serious tone. "There,"  he said when the can was satisifiably lightened, "These bits can go in the big bin, in the garage... along with the larger shards of glass. The rest of the wood should come out here. And the smaller glass pieces can be vacuumed." Jes noted how careful he was to explain without actually telling her what to do. It made her smile... somewhere in the back of her brain... though it didn't quite reach her lips. 

Wood on the fire... glass in the trash... little pieces vacuumed. It moved surprisingly fast with so many hands. And before she knew it, there was no more busy work to be done. Staring down at the stinking, sopping carpet, Jes realized it was time to put up or shut up. Tiptoeing around the stains on the bare and bloodied concrete, Jes placed a gentle hand on Braeilin's shoulder. Steadying herself as she knelt between he and Kilian. They both paused, sharing a silent glance before Braelin spoke up, "Mrs. Caniglio, I don't think..." He trailed off as Killian handed her his knife and moved around behind her to guide her hand. The look on Braelin's face spoke volumes as he croaked wordlessly at his partner in crime. 

"The boss said everything," Killian explained flatly, taking Jes' hand in his own. "Smaller pieces are easier to manoeuvre. So we work in strips," he explained softly, awkwardly close to Jessica's ear. "Grab that piece there, and fold it toward me. Good. Now cut right... there." Jes' hands were unsteady, the cut rough. So Killian leaned over to help her. "You're doing fine. Just a little more pressure, and a faster cut. Like... This!" Jes squeaked a little as the movement threw her off balance, but both men were there in a heartbeat to catch her fall. 

"That one was good," her new soldier smiled, close to her face. "Now roll it... mhmmm... and tie it off." Jes wrinkled her nose squeamishly as the carpet oozed onto her lap and hands, and both men chuckled softly.  "The pad comes up the same way, and then we scrape up the stuck on bits." Braelin demonstrated as Jes drug the newly cut carpet roll over to the door... and was promptly relieved of it by Charlie, who was on his way out to the fire yet again. 

Tromping back into the room, she plopped back down again, but Killian shook his head.  "With all due respect, ma'am. We've got this section handled. Might I suggest you help us out by starting over there?" He pressed a curved blade into her palm and gestured to the spot on the carpet where Gino had been laying. And internally Jes whimpered a little. 

It felt like being hazed. But then, this was all part of the gig, and she had asked for it. Hell, she'd married it, in fact. There was no getting out now... not unless she wanted to slip into that plastic sleeping bag with dear old dad. Her stomach churned as she knelt... something oddly familiar about the stench threatening to drag her back into the abyss of her asylum days. 

"Are you alright, Bun-Bun?" Roger's voice felt faint and distant as it drifted from somewhere behind her. "I'm fine," she said coldly, sharp determination colouring her words with a dangerous bite. Roger knew that tone, no doubt. Were he to look in her eyes right now, he'd find them cold, dark, and utterly unforgiving. That frigidity would wear off eventually, giving way to an avalanche of bottled pain and remorse. But for now, the distant rage served a purpose... one she'd need to capitalize on in this life. 

It was like something inside her clicked off, as she precisely and unhesitatingly sliced at the carpet with pristine precision. Fold...cut...tie. Fold... cut... tie. Fold. Cut. Tie. Charlie could hardly keep up as she stacked rolls of soiled carpet along the walls behind her with a hauntingly machine-esque efficiency. It was like the whole world dissolved into a series of repetitious cuts until there was no carpeting left to disguise the bare concrete. 

As she reached the far wall of the den, she finally stopped; turning to Roger and Ivan who were still taking meticulous care of the bodies for transport. She was a mess again... sweaty, streaked with ash and soot, and covered from chest to toe in all manner of stains. But for one rare moment, she actually looked in complete control of herself. "What next?" 

Roger and Ivan both turned, looking into the den and nodding at the lack of carpet. Brailen and Killian stepped up to admire Jessica's work and they chuckled, Killian smacking Brailen with some more heckling.

"She does a bet'er job than you, lad." He laughed and Brailen rolled his eyes, punching Killian's shoulder. "Shut your mouth." The men laughed as Charlie tromped back inside yet again, grabbing some of the carpet rolls and taking them to burn.

Ivan was the first to address Jessica's question, with a simple answer. "Burn old carpet, replace with new from garage. This is next step."

Roger nodded. "Never said it was an easy job, but wit' all of us moving tha carpet, we should be able ta get it done quickly." He made his way over to the stack of carpet rolls and grabbed one, hauling it outside, leaving the last of the carpet for the other men...and Jess. Everyone grabbed one and headed for the burn pile. At least the heat was comforting coming from the fire.

As the group warmed their hands, Roger spoke up...

"The new carpet where it's always kept?" He looked between the others.

Ivan nodded, "Yes. Still in closet in front hall."

He pointed to Brailen and Killian, "You two, go and lay the new carpet. Make sure ya scrub tha fuckin' concrete first. I don' want that shit seepin' back through."

He looked at Ivan, Jess, and Charlie. "You three, let's take out the trash. I assume you already got Sal loaded up?"

Ivan nodded, "He is in trunk of car."

"Perfect. Jess, go get one of mia madre's old coats out of the closet, and bring me a jacket too. Ivan and I will load up mio padre. Charlie, go start the car and get the heat goin'."

Roger turned to Jess and smiled. "Almost done, Bun Bun. Almost done." He reassured her before squeezing her arm. Charlie headed for the garage, and Ivan turned, tapping Roger's shoulder for help to wrap up Gino... He was much heavier than Sal had been.

The trio headed inside and Roger grabbed the liner near Gino's feet, Ivan grabbing the head. Pausing and looking at Ivan for a moment, he finally apologized, "Sorry if I butcher this. A-deen, dva, tree!" The two lifted Gino up with a grunt each, though Ivan chuckled a bit at Roger's butchered Russian. The two waddled their way out to the garage so that they could wrap Gino tightly, tie him up, and load him into the back of the car for his last trip.

Jes was silent as she headed back inside. Digging through the hall closet, she was surprised to find several of the matron's coats still hanging there, despite her untimely death quite some years ago. They were nice. And Jes passed over quite a few fine furs before settling on a plain wool number that she wouldn't mind burning when they were finished. Slipping it on over her sullied clothes, she grabbed a long trench for Roger - a few sizes too big, but it would do. Tossing it over one arm she headed for the garage, where the car was already running. 

She purposely ignored the lumpy bundles in the trunk as Ivan slammed it shut. Handing the trench coat off to Roger as she slid into the back seat. "So what's the plan?" 

Roger chuckled as Jess slid straight into the running car. Ivan climbed in front with Charlie and Roger slipped the trench that Jess had grabbed over his arms and tugged it tightly around him, sliding in beside her in the back seat.

"Well, we're gonna go an' put my pops on 'is flight ta Sicily." He grinned. "Gonna be a sad goodbye, ya know? But 'e's got a lot of work ta do back home."

Roger slipped his arm around Jessica and tugged her close. "Now that I'm Don, I have access to a few... contacts. Some personnel that can get my father's name on a passenger manifest, and some others that can help me get him an' Sal loaded inta cargo. Charlie here is gonna take tha plane too an' make sure everything is taken care of wit' tha cargo... Ain' that right, Charlie?"

Charlie looked in the rear view mirror, adjusting it so he could see both Jessica and Roger. "If that's what ya think be best, boss."

"Well, ta be honest, I'm not sure it is -best-, but I can't afford ta go myself right now, an' I certainly can't trust Benedetto. Do this for me, and when ya return, I'll make ya..."

Charlie nodded, "It'll be done, boss." He continued to drive carefully through the icy, snowy roads and Roger looked at Jessica...

"Any more questions on it doll? I'll try an' explain anything ya wanna know..."

Jes shook her head with an apathetic shrug, "Nah, Roger. I think I get the jist."  She laid her head over on his shoulder, looking empty and exhausted. "I figure I can learn the political shit from the sidelines as I go," she snerked a little "And by 'sidelines' I mean your elbow." She was quiet for a while as they rode. The wheels in her head clearly spinning overtime.  "Shit... the Don... the motherfucking Don. I am now married to the Don of the whole goddamned family stateside," Jes mumbled to herself as the full weight of that realization started to sink in; Charlie and Ivan casting curious glances in her direction at the vulgarities spilling from her lips. That was no way for a woman to speak. 

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she rubbed her forehead a bit. Turning into Roger's shoulder she lowered her voice so the two of them could talk in relative privacy. "Why'd you never... Didn't you think... I mean at some point..." Jes struggled to find exactly the right way to express herself. She didn't want to sound disrespectful or ungrateful. She was neither of those things. More overwhelmed and overstimulated. Taking a deep breath she shifted in her seat so she could face him, "Okay... I'm gonna need a crash course in Sicilian wifery... and like... all that motherfucking jazz. ASAP." 

"...please,"  she added as an afterthought, remembering they were in company. 

Roger's laugh was probably not well placed with her current state of mind, but he couldn't help the feeling that washed over him in her panic. His hand caressed her cheek ever so softly and he smiled wide. "There's a lot ta learn for this life. Ya've been around it, so what's tha most important thing ta remember?"

He tilted his head, almost as if asking her to answer, but it was rhetorical... "Omerta. You don't know nothin', ain't seen nothin', don't know nobody." He smiled. "To anyone aside from family. We speak freely with ourselves depending on who needs to know things and who doesn't." He tugged out his cigarette case and offered her a cigarette as he fished out his zippo.

"All Sicilian family know this, from Dons, to associates, to married family. Tha less ya talk about family business, tha better it is for family business. If there's a story bein' told as a front? Stick ta tha story. That's Sicilian wife, and family, rule numba one. Capisce?"

Flicking the cover from the lighter, he sparked it up and lit his cigarette and Jessica's if she'd taken one. Flipping it closed, the Zippo found it's way back into his pocket. Roger cracked the window ever so slightly so the smoke could flow out.

"As fa dealin' wit' Sicilian Wifery an' such? Just be yaself, Jess. Ya make a good home already. That's all, an' would be more a slap in tha Sicilian's face if ya pretended ta be one of us." He grinned, sheepishly at that comment. It sounded bad.

"Eh, what I mean is, it's best if ya just be you... As far as bein' tha Don's wife in public? Just be a good wife. In company of this thing of ours? Ehh... Anyone comes ta us an' doesn't mean harm, be a gracious host. Don't matta if their friend, foe, or othawise. You'll know when someone ain't welcome. I can promise ya that, doll."

He took a drag off his cigarette and turned to the window to blow the smoke out, watching it get whipped away from the wind. Turning back he continued.

"So, ask me questions on what ya thinkin', an' I'll answa'em as best as possible. If I can't, well, fuck it. This is our family, right? I'll figure it out as we go..."

He chuckled. He'd been so far removed from the Sicilian way of life for the past decade that even some of the traditional roles were lost to him...

Jess glared at him behind the glow of the cigarette's cherry, daggers from her eyes cutting across the space between them, "Oh there's gonna be a slap in a Sicilian's face in a minute." She chuckled, but the sound came out dark and bitter, "I'm not one of you. I'm never going to try to be one of you. But I'll be damned before I risk disgracing you out of simple ignorance. That's all." 

She took a long drag from her cigarette, "I'll make a list... tomorrow. And as things come to me. Just know that this thing I did," her eyes cut quickly to the men in the front seat, making sure she hadn't said that too loudly, "is gonna come with a lot of growing pains for me, my love. For starters... I'll need to learn to do it on purpose."  Again there was that dark laughter, "And more than that, I need to know the 'and all that jazz' part. Capisce?" 

She rubbed her forehead again, trying to explain it in a way that he could understand. But that was just it, the thought struck her... he couldn't  understand. Because he'd grown up in this world, there was no way for him to differentiate what was 'normal' from what was 'extra mobster jazz'... wives, kids, hell strangers all just knew how to fight, how to act, and what was expected. It was groomed in on an almost genetic level. And as he had so tactlessly pointed out. She didn't have those genetics. That was, in fact, the whole reason they were in this car now, as far as she was concerned. 

He'd do his best, sure. But obviously, she was on her own in this thing of theirs. 

Roger chuckled at her 'all that jazz' comment and stroked her beautiful face. He still wasn't exactly sure what it was she wanted to know, and he'd probably NEVER know until she outright said it. Their "normals" were so incredibly different that he couldn't understand her need... for once. Regardless, he sat back in the seat and held her close as she seemed to come to a realization of her own.

"Hey, what's on ya mind girl?" he tapped at her temple, accentuating the question. "What exactly -is- that jazz? Ya gotta remember, everything I'm used to is normal... So what is it ya wanna know that ain't normal ta you in this place? Be specific, or we'll just hav'ta figure it out as we go, yeah?" He grinned... Then a spark of his own popped up.

Frowning, he chuckled, "Ya eva shot a gun?"

Jes couldn't help the 'are you fucking kidding me' expression that rolled over her features. "I dunno, babe. Why doncha ask Sal?" she said with a playfully patronizing roll of her eyes. "Have I ever shot a gun... for fuck's sake," she mumbled softly under her breath. 

It was kind of a dumb question. And not because she'd fired on Sal earlier, but because Roger knew her history. What on all of god's green Earth made him think she would ever have had the opportunity to learn to shoot unless he taught her... which he hadn't. 

He chuckled goofily, "Oh yeah..." Shaking his head, Roger tugged again on his cigarette before exhaling, still trying to reign in the soft heaves of his laughter.

"Okay, so, neva before that... If I rememba we've had this talk before." He took another hit from the cigarette then, as he blew the smoke away, tossed the butt out the window.

Looking back to Jess, he leaned down and kissed her forehead. "We'll teach ya ta shoot properly, an' how ta defend yaself wit'out a weapon too, now that I think about it."

The car pulled into the airport loop and Charlie guided them around to the back gate where a guard stopped them. As he leaned out of his warm guard's box, Charlie rolled his window down to address him.

"Identification?"

Charlie chuckled and thumbed toward the back, "Don Coniglio needs ta make use of 'is charter flights..."

Almost as if instinctual, Roger lowered his head and pulled his hat low as well. He hugged Jessica close. The guard leaned into the car and took a peek.

"Gino! You're lookin' a little thin. WOO! And ya got a fox on ya! Keep her warm will ya?"

Roger chuckled a bit and nodded. Charlie rolled his window up and they drove through the gate as it opened. A lot of men were deicing the tarmac and planes as they approached the aircraft bays. The storm had lightened up just a bit and they were rushing to get planes in and out as they could... More of the storm was coming soon and they had perhaps less than a two hour window to get things moving.

Two men rushed up to the car and knocked on the window as Charlie pulled to a stop and rolled his window down.

"Harrison rang and said Mr. Coniglio needed some help. What can we do for ya sir?" one of the young attendants rattled off happily. Roger kissed Jessica again and whispered to her quietly...

"I'm gonna step out an' handle this business quickly. Ya can step out wit' me, or stay here where it's warm. Whateva ya choose, Bun Bun."

He opened his door and stepped out, the one who'd ran up talking starting to complain...

"You're not Gi-"

"Ya right kid..." Roger looked up, straightening his fedora atop his head and staring the boy in the eye.

"I'm not Gino. I'm 'is son, Don Ruggiero Domenici Coniglio. I'm takin' over 'is operation 'ere while 'e goes home fuh business. There gonna be a problem wit' tha deal 'e had worked out wit' ya? Or do I need ta make a call ta ya motha an' see where she wants ta bury 'er son?"

The boy stammered a bit but eventually reduced himself to a simple nod.

"Good. Glad that's all worked out then. An' between you an' me? I might even pay ya more then 'e did. Dependin' on how handy ya become." He smiled at the kid and pulled out his wallet, slipping him two one hundred dollar bills, one for each of the boys.

"I need ya ta go an' get me a big box crate an' bring it ova'ere. We're gonna load Gino's luggage up, then I'll need ya help again."

Nodding the two ran off to retrieve what was asked. Roger, in the mean time, leaned against the car and lit up another cigarette. Charlie and Ivan stepped out and walked around to stand with Roger, taking a cigarette each as he offered to them as well.

Jes tensed a little as the young man questioned Roger. Leaning to glance out the window, she giggled softly. He was just a boy. They both were. Roger made easy enough work of convincing them what was good for their health, but Jes couldn't help but think there were easier ways to handle such things. 

Since she had no other shoes at the manor, she was still wearing her lipstick red heels. Slouching down a bit in the seat, she wiggled out of Gino's oversized pants; sloughing them to the Limousine floor. Reaching beneath the coat, she unbuttoned the shirt underneath just enough so that it didn't show under the short swing coat, and fluffed her bouncy curls free from the restraining updo she'd worn thus far. A quick application of lipstick and she looked as fetching as if they'd planned this. 

Sliding coyly from the backseat, Jes snagged a cigarette as Roger offered them to the guards. She smiled wickedly as Roger eyed her suddenly-less-than-modest attire with a look of mixed arousal and worry. His hand slid to her shoulder with a silent question of concern. Was she sure, would she be warm enough, was she alright? He didn't have to ask. Jes saw it all in his hazel eyes. She gave a weak smile, tossing her copper curls with a gentle shake of her head that told him not to worry. With a quiet nod, he lit her cigarette, and Jes plopped herself down on the hood of the car like the queen of Sheba. 

Even with the engine still running, the hood was shockingly cold. It was freezing... literally... and yet she didn't make a sound as her bare thighs stuck lightly to the frigid metal. Surprisingly, the cold was one of the few things that didn't  bother the fragile ginger. Taking a long and luxuriating drag from her cigarette, Jes crossed her legs conspicuously as the boys came hustling back, dragging a heavy wooden crate between the two of them. They slowed noticeably as they rounded the front of the vehicle, and Jes met Roger's gaze with a pointed smile as she exhaled smoke over the boy's heads. Distractions always made things easier, didn't they? 

The boys dropped the crate where they were, one reaching up and removing his hat in the presence of a "lady". Wringing ti nervously he glanced between Roger's face and Jessica's very bare legs stammering, "Uhh... here you go, Don Coniglio, sir. Just like you asked. We'll load everything up and then you can be on your way, sir." Jes chuckled aloud, her tinkling laughter fading out over the busy tarmac. It was so odd to hear people address him as 'Don'. The laugh drug the boy's face back toward Jessica once again, his gaze lighting on her crimson pout this time as he cleared his throat uncomfortably. 

Jes clicked her tongue softly, "I don't think that's the best idea, boys." Taking a long drag from her smoke, Jes smirked over at Roger as the young men floundered helplessly, struggling to decide to whom they should be looking. "You see," she said softly exhaling smoke into the mouthier kids face, "Gino is very touchy about who puts their hands on his property..." Jes flicked her cigarette, whimpering softly as the ash "accidentally" fell onto her bare knee; the quieter man-boy of the duo looking as if he would have a stroke on the spot as Jes rubbed the resultant smudge from her leg with exaggerated attention. 

"You have no idea how hot-headed he can get over silly little things like that," she continued with an indulgent pout, uncrossing and recrossing her legs as she spoke. "I know that it's your job to help us get everything squared away. And you're doing a very good job, too," she nodded empathetically, and both boys nodded emphatically along with her, "But you would really be doing me a huge personal favour if you'd let us take care of this part on our own." Switching cigarette hands, she shifted her weight to one side slightly, the loose coat sliding up her thigh ever so slightly as she continued, "What do you say you take a little smoke break? Say... thirty minutes or so? I'll give you a couple a smokes each. And I'd be ever so grateful... ?" 

It was far too dark on the dimly lit tarmac to see anything immodest as Jes shifted about on the hood. But that didn't keep the prospect from exciting the young men to no end as they stared on entranced. "Yes, Ma'am!" the younger man pipped up as Jes motioned for Charlie to pass them a couple of cigarettes. They both accepted the smokes and turned to saunter off into the night. Tipping his hat politely the older boy offered, "I'm at your disposal for anything you need, Miss..." 

He trailed off, waiting for her name. And Jes cackled maniacally as she watched his expression fall when she replied, "Missus Coniglio." The boys shared a silent look of horror, turning to stare at Roger in wide-eyed embarrassment and fear. "Run along, now," Jes cooed, the spiteful venom behind her words growing evident. "We'll be done by the time you've finished your cigarettes." The boys bowed their heads and scurried away as quickly as they could. "AND NOT A MINUTE SOONER!" Jes called after them with an evil cackle. 

Tossing the last of her cigarette to the ground, Jes hopped from the hood and strode to the trunk with an unnerving air of authority. Kicking the trunk open she snapped playfully at Ivan and Charlie with an ornery smirk, "Let's get this show on the road, boys." 

His eyes followed Jess half playfully, half concerned, as she slid out of the vehicle practically naked. He didn't have time for a boner, but none the less the arousal was itching to make itself known. Jess' shake of her head in their silent conversation led him to shrug and allow her to play the Queen Bee he needed her to become. Readjusting himself, he puffed on his cigarette while they waited for the boys to get back. Side glances from Charlie got him slugged in the arm... from both Ivan and Roger.

"Don't look at boss' wife so strongly, nincompoop."

Roger, barely able to control his laughter at Ivan's choice of words, choked on the smoke he was exhaling... Charlie grunted and rubbed his arm.

As the two young boys made their way back to the vehicle, all three men stared at them' their slowing gait making all three shake their heads. Roger mouthed under his breath, "Fuckin' kids these days, ya know? No respect for a woman in little ta no clothin'." The three erupted in laughter, drawing the attention of the two luggage handlers.

"Uhh... Here you go, Don Coniglio, sir. Just like you asked. We'll load everything up and then you can be on your way, sir."

Roger, Charlie, and Ivan all observed Jessica's mind blowing presence fuck with the blood flow of the two young men, attempting to keep themselves from chuckling too loudly. Charlie grabbed Roger's cigarette case and hustled the four steps to the front of the vehicle where Jessica sat and passed off the holder.

The older boy tipped his hat and awaited her name, but as it came the pale, ghost white that washed over as he looked to Roger made the Don grin. He winked to the boys with a single click of his tongue before setting to the task at hand. The younger boy smacked the older and drug him out of there quickly so that they could go smoke their cigarettes in peace, audibly cursing the older boy out for being a simpleton and an idiot.

Even as Jessica rounded the back of the vehicle and opened the trunk, snapping, the three were already in movement. Charlie turned his back to Roger and Ivan as Roger moved Jessica out of the way.

Charlie piped up with the, "All clear boss," and Roger grabbed Sal's feet, tugging them into the box. Ivan gripped Sal's head and unceremoniously stuffed the man into the wooden crate. They created a bed for Gino out of Sal... It gave a sense of respect to Gino as the late Boss, and offered him something softer to lay on than the bottom of the crate. Sliding Gino in the fatter, yet shorter man fit easier. With his head resting at Sal's feet, and his feet in Sal's face, it offered the illusion that Roger still felt Sal was a no good bootlicker even in death. Ivan grabbed the lid to the crate and set it on top before reaching into the car... A single realization washed over the Russian man as he turned to Charlie, Roger, and Jessica.

"Boss, no hammer and nails..."

Charlie spun around and laughed, "It's there... I put it there meself." He climbed into the back of the vehicle and rooted around under the seat for a bit until he pulled out a ball peen hammer and a small bag of nails. "I didn' forget it, na'er worry!"

With a smile Ivan nodded and took the tools, beginning to hammer the lid into place. Roger stepped away at that point and lit yet another cigarette... He was going to need to roll more once he returned home. They had gotten Sal and Gino loaded in to the crate much faster than expected, and as Ivan drove the last nail in Roger hopped onto the crate to sit.

"Okay, so I'm gonna need yas ta stay an' make sure this gets delivered ta Sicily so we's can says that Gino went for work, capisce?" he eyed Charlie. "Rememba, once this is done, ya come ta me an' we can getcha settled in as a memba of tha family propa."

Charlie nodded emphatically, it seemed he enjoyed the prospect of actually being more than just an associate. Maybe this new Don wouldn't be so bad...

"What were it ya wanted done wit' tha luggage?"

Roger smiled, "Make it go away, Charlie... Just like everything. I don' know nothin'. Keep it that way."

Charlie nodded. He'd figure something out on the flight. Not like he wouldn't have a good few hours before landing anyway...

Roger hopped off the crate and Charlie began pushing it toward the boys who were on their way back. The older one seemed to pout, even from thirty yards away, as Charlie cut him off from getting near Jessica again. His eyes remained on hers as the bombshell red-head slipped back into the vehicle and out of site. Roger, eyeing the boy over the car, made a gun with his finger and fired... Charlie slapping the boy on the back of the head as Roger did so.

The boy jumped and ducked all at the same time. falling pray to laughter by Charlie. You couldn't hear their words, but Charlie seemed to tell the boy something and he nodded, then turned to follow the crate as it rolled away.

Roger stepped down into the vehicle and Ivan took the driver's seat. "Want to go home, boss? This is next stop?"

"Sì amico. Take us home. We need to rest. There will be much work to do tomorrow." Roger tossed his cigarette on the ground outside the vehicle and shut the door behind him as Ivan began to drive home.

"Welcome to La Cosa Nostra, Jessica." Roger grinned at his quickly being initiated wife... Normally what she was going through would take months of working with the family, and instead she was getting a crash course all in one night...