Angry waves crashed violently against the shore of Santa Monica beach, as the wind whistled faintly across the sands. The rolling thunderheads cresting on the horizon put on a beautiful display as the wind whipped the waves into frothy sea spray. It was a blustery, grey day, touched by the kind of beautiful gloom that only those with wistful melancholia could truly appreciate. 

Jessica revelled in the dark, poetic beauty of the sea. She loved the alluring tragedy of it. Something about the electric twilight of the coming storm over the black waters massaged her soul with a resonating, bone-deep sense of kinship and belonging. Her copper curls whirled wildly behind her as her white dress fluttered in the wind. She was ethereal and ravishing, walking alone along the desolate sea shore; her eyes worshipping the distant horizon like the widow of a long lost mariner still hopelessly yearning for a reunion everyone knew would never come. 

Families left the beachfront in droves, rushing to avoid the coming rain. As other's hurried madly away from the growing gloaming, scurrying to collect their belongings and their children before lightening turned to rain, Jes remained placid... a literal calm amidst the storm. She was so fixated on the rapturous elegance of the darkened sea, she didn't even notice the dashing stranger watching her from the pier above with equal captivation...

A lone man stared out over the beach from the wooden decking that reached out far into the ocean. He was watching the gulls fight over a few fish that had been left by children, and of course there were kites being flown by other children. Screams of laughter and joy could be heard as waves crashed over swimmers. Surfers attempted to ride waves and continued to get washed off of their boards. All in all, it had started as a beautiful day... However, there was a storm brewing in the distance off of the coast. Some families were already packing up to leave, attempting to avoid the rain at all costs...

As the storm drew nearer, more wannabe surfers showed up to try and ride the incoming tidal surge. It wasn't a HUGE one, but the winds would certainly bring bigger waves. Ruggiero Domenici Coniglio continued to watch, allowing the wind to carry him away like a speck of dust... Until his eyes landed on a beautiful, curvy, red-headed woman who looked to be not much younger than himself. He leaned on the wooden railed, arms resting over one another, and watched her, staring at her as she stared out over the waves and into the dark abyss of the encroaching storm.

Many people had packed up by that point and were scurrying to get themselves away. The storm seemed to be growing and the winds were kicking up. The waves had already started to smack against the pier that Ruggiero stood on, and in some places was already crashing up through the cracks in the wood. It wouldn't be long before he would have to move or risk his Italian leather shoes getting soaked... Not to mention the rest of his outfit if the water crashed high enough. His tan slacks and thin, white, long-sleeved button down wouldn't look as good if they were drenched. Deciding it was time to move, he turned and walked the length of the pier and down the steps that led to the sandy coast of Santa Monica Beach, Los Angeles, California.

Doing his best to not frighten the woman, he approached her from behind, but a good few feet to the side of her. He stepped up, eyeing the storm as she was and made sure he could see her in his peripherals so he knew she could see him too...

"Beautiful, ain' it?" His accent was a tell-tale hint that he was Italian. He smiled and kept his gaze forward, looking into the clouds. "It's like starin' straight into a mirra of emotions, mixin' an' swirlin' about until ya get somethin' pretty an' frightenin' all in tha same... Ya know?"

He finally turned his head to look at her, his tan fedora's brim fluttering lightly with the breeze. His hands were in his pockets and suspenders held up his tan slacks. His sleeves were rolled up just below his elbows, and a revolver sat in plain sight on a shoulder harness that kept the gun tucked neatly under his arm. At first glance, you wouldn't necessarily be able to tell if he was law, or against it...

Jes instinctually scuttled away a step or two as someone approached her, like a beaten animal, though her eyes never left the coming rain clouds. She was quiet for a long while, eyes flickering between her new companion and the brooding horizon. She didn't seem at all off put by his weapon, if she'd even noticed it. 

The winds kicked up and her white dress thrashed around her knees as she wiggled her bare toes deeper into the damp sands; her curls writhing like snakes in the wind. Hugging one arm to her chest she finally replied, "I don't think it's frightening at all. I think it's rapturous and freeing. In nature, Beauty is always escorted by destruction. Yet it's loveliness is never tarnished. It's only people who find it frightening when beautiful things turn turbulent or fierce." 

It wasn't the kind of thing a woman should normally say to a stranger, Jessica knew that. But then, she'd never really been one for living up to other people's standards. It's what got her into this mess in the first place. And with no way out now, she was determined to relish every moment until the bitter end. Looking away from the storm, she turned her electric green eyes up to meet his gaze for a breathtaking second; their depths filled with a faraway sadness, a distant, melancholy kind of beauty that matched the storms tragic elegance. Almost as if on cue, a blinding bolt of lightning struck the nearby pier; echoing with a tumultuous roll of thunder that shook the sand beneath their feet as the sky finally burst open. 

Jes giggled, smiling such that her eyes crinkled as she spread her arms wide and twirled beneath the dark and weeping sky. Her copper curls melted into tight waves as she laughed, her pale dress hugging her now-evident curves as she relished the rain with utter abandon. ... and no sense of decency. 

If the crazy bells hadn't gone off for Roger yet... they probably should now. At least, if he knew what was good for him.

Roger chuckled a bit with her answer... Interesting to say the least. As their eyes met he nodded to her, offering her his kindest smile, though he could see her swimming in a world of anguish. He opened his mouth to say something, but instead found himself jumping and cursing.

"Porca miseria, holy fuckin'... what tha fuck... Jesus Chris', FUCK!" He looked back to the pier. That was where he'd been standing. If that wasn't a fuckin' omen for his life. Turning back he went to say something again, but found her giggling and twirling. She looked innocent, or nuts; one of the other. What ever the case was, Roger still found himself attracted to the curvy woman. Maybe it was her body shape, maybe it was the red ringlets, maybe it was something completely different? Who knew...

What followed probably surprised Jessica just as much. Roger started laughing and, with a shrug, spun in the rain with her. His tight fitting shirt now suctioned against his body and you could see his chest, stomach, and back through the thin layer. His slacks weren't as forgiving and as they soaked more, weighing him down and hugging his legs. With the added cumbersome movements, Roger lost his footing and planted his butt firmly in the sand. Continuing to laugh...

Whatever craziness should have run him away, wasn't seeming to get through to the hard-headed Italian. He looked up at her, simply watching her dance about in the rain.

"Hey girl," he smiled at her, "Keep dancin' in tha rain. Don' let nobody tell ya's othawise." His laughter was perhaps as odd as her giggling. As he remained an onlooker, another bolt of lighting struck behind them making him duck his head, then laugh some more. It felt good to laugh like that, to smile like that... He should have known, but the way this girl looked at the storm was too intriguing, and her actions even more so. He found her too attractive for his "psycho-dar" to go off.

"What's ya name, doll?" He eyed her up and down, "And where ya from? Ain' seen ya round tha pier to often..."

The wind tried to sweep away his words and, with the heavy downpour starting, he had to practically yell it.

Jessica twirled over and plopped down next to him with a purposeful dip. Her head tilted a bit as she shifted to face him, her white dress now stained with sand. She looked at him as if he were a singularly stunning curiosity; better suited to a carnival sideshow than the Italian mafia. "Jessica," she said with a refreshing smile that almost glowed in the dusky evening gloom. "Jessica Antionetta Mckenzie," she laughed, leaning back on her hands and turning her face up to feel the rain, grinning like a child who only just learned that their name MEANS something. 

For a minute, the adult in her showed through as she leaned toward him,  "It's freeing isn't? To feel something so fully that you forget all the worries of your world... To lose yourself in just  being."

She sighed heavily... a weighted sound that carried a story with it... as she slid back through the sand to lay flat against the cold, wet ground.  "Being is my favourite feeling,"  she confessed, her eyelashes fluttering against the onslaught of heavy raindrops crashing around them. "Especially with ice cream...." she gasped softly, "Or sex." 

She chuckled softly. Again, there are certain things you just don't say in front of strange men. But hey... if he ran so be it. It couldn't hurt any more than the ride home in a few days or the fact that she was likely to forget him soon. And for the time being, his company was nice. She liked being in his company.  "So..." she said, reaching out to run a single fingertip down the buttons on his shirt, "What's your name?" 

She smiled at him, "I bet it's something foreign sounding, isn't it? Like... Alejandro, or Giovanni, or... Vicenzo. No no, wait..." she eyed him with over-exaggerated thought, "I know. Dominique!" She giggled softly as if the whole world were her own little joke.  

"Would you like to take me to get some ice cream, Dominique?" she stuck her tongue out at him playfully, "There's a wonderful little shop just up the walk. And I'm rather pressed for the company."  Her eyes grew a little sad again as she looked up at him, a cutting loneliness clear in her stormy green eyes. How in the world could such a beautiful bunny ever be so lonely?

He chuckled as she spun and plopped down in the sand next to him. Just listening to her talk made him smile more, nodding along through her conversation. Being was a nice thing, and as she spoke about it, Roger knew he already enjoyed -being- around her. The company was welcomed, and quite preferred to the normal company he often kept; gangsters and their associates. Everyone always wanted to rub shoulders with him once they learned he wasn't just of Italian decent, but was full-blooded Sicilian and from a family that operated within the United States. It was frustrating at best, and excruciatingly aggravating at worst.

He closed his eyes and looked up to the sky as her voice continued to prick his mind, until she touched the front of his shirt. He watched her carefully as her hand passed near his weapon, but she continued down the button trail and attempted to name him...

"Surprisingly," he chortled as she named him Dominique, "That's very close to my middle name..."

As she asked about ice cream, he shrugged and stood, helping her to her feet.

"I'd love ta treat ya, an' my name is Ruggiero Domenici Coniglio... My friends call me Roger, or Dom."

He smiled wide, continuing to hold her hand as long as she'd allow him too. "Should we get outta this weatha, try an' get dry maybe?" He smirked, "Before we's catch a cold or somethin'."

He pointed in the distance... "I gotta car ova there we's can use ta get ya home an' change before we go an' get that ice cream."

Looking at Jessica, he awaited her decision or reaction...

Jes blinked, perplexed, as he hauled her to her feet. That actually worked?  She was shocked... and tickled twelve shades of pink... but also shocked. "Really?" she asked with wide-eyed wonder. A stranger, unaware of her history, might wonder why someone so pretty would be so surprised that another person would actually want to be seen in public with her. She blushed a little, tracing circles on the back of his hand as she steadied herself in the moist sand. "Dom," she mouthed quietly, trying her best to hide the oh so American-girl smirk that it brought to her lips, "I like that very much." she flushed a little, even in the chilling rain, "You can call me Jes, if you'd like. ...Dom." 

As he gestured to the car, she Laced her fingers in his with a gentle squeeze; yearning desperately to always remember the warmth of his first touch. "Home doesn't really agree with me right now," she smiled as she pranced playfully toward the car. "But there's a cute little dress shop up the way... if you're worried about it. There's an absolutely adorable little sundress in the window that I've had my eye on for weeks," she winked at him. "This is just the perfect time to pick it up. And they have men's stuff, too."   She flounced a little as she trotted along beside him.

He couldn't help but smile as the stunning Jessica McKenzie took his hand in hers, lacing her fingers through his. Roger lead her over to the car, the bewilderment etched on her face as he opened the door of an Alfa Romeo 6C 1750 GS;  priceless. It was a rare vehicle, and beautiful to boot; with a black and cream white two-tone paint job. He grinned, Jessica looking almost as if she didn't want to climb into the vehicle soaking wet.

"It's fine," Roger cooed as he guided her into the two-seater vehicle, the smile growing ever larger as his hand slid from hers and he shut the door, hustling to the other side and jumping in.

"So, which way ta this dress shop?" He looked at her as the engine turned over and the car rumbled to life. He slipped it into gear and they started rolling slowly down the road until he merged in with the light traffic. Regardless of which way he needed to go, it was best to go ahead and get moving. Roger looked to Jessica on his left while awaiting the directions...

Jes very nearly swooned as he slid her into the car. He was hot as the desert at high noon, nice enough to take her out, crazy enough to dance in the rain, and he had a fine ass car to boot? For a brief second Jes was afraid she'd never left Patton State for her furlough; that she'd drifted off into her own little fantasy land again and was really just sitting in the solarium daydreaming about a man who was far too good to be true. As Roger slid into the driver's seat, Jes nonchalantly reached down and pinched the inside of her left arm as hard as she could. It hurt, and her eyes welled up at the lingering sting. But she smiled even as she teared up, desperately grateful that the pain was real... that he was real. She casually tried to hide the small row of thumbprint sized bruises as the engine rolled over and he looked to gauge her response. 

The car rumbled to life with an ever so pleasing thrumming vibration, and Jes chuckled huskily as he slipped out into traffic. "Two blocks straight, then hang a right, and it's about three blocks down Santa Monica Boulevard on the righthand corner," she told him with a bright smile, fishing a small stack of very wet bills from her bosom to count carefully. "It's just a little mom and pop place," she told him sheepishly,  "Nothing as nice as your shoes... but it'll do in a pinch." She tried to hide the tell-tale bashful blush that coloured her cheeks. The place was nice... for her. But he was obviously well out of her league. 

Roger followed the instructions with ease, pulling up in front of the small storefront in a matter of minutes. The windows were lined with mannequins bedecked in all manner of stylish garb; both male and female. From the looks of it, Jes was right. Everything looked hand-tailored, with almost no duplicates. And while the merchandise didn't appear to be the finest of Italian leather or oriental silk, the pieces all looked to be extremely well crafted. Whatever Jes might think of him, he would undoubtedly enjoy shopping here. 

Moving around to the passenger side of the vehicle, Roger opened the door and offered Jes his hand; which she took with a smile. Interlocking her fingers once again, she followed him inside, beaming like a school girl as he held the door for her. The shine, however, was drained from her face as the woman at the counter stopped them immediately. "Miss, you can't come in here like that!" 

Jes stopped mid-step, looking down at her still bare feet. Stammering a bit, she tried to explain that they intended to buy a new ensemble, but the woman shooed her out the door with a dismissive wave of her hand. Jes, looking deflated, embarrassed, and hurt, slid past Roger and moved to leave the store. "We can just go get ice cream wet," she said softly, pointing up at the window,  "They sold the one I wanted anyway..."

Roger actually quite liked the store as they pulled up to it, even -his- eyes seemed to light up in childlike wonder at some of the hand-tailored ensembles. He hid a smirk as Jessica clasped his hand in hers again and he led her in, holding the door. However, the... "whatever the bitch was" stopped them short after she took one look at Jessica. He allowed Jessica to try and explain to the lady, but she wasn't having it.

Jessica, saddened by the experience, turned to leave but Roger gripped her arm lightly as they exited the store. Leaning close to her he whispered softly, "Hold on just a minute, doll..."

He released her arm, "This ain't gonna do." He placed his hand under her chin and lifted her head. "You're wit' a Coniglio today. An' Coniglio's don't take shit from anyone, capisce?" He chuckled and gave her cheek a pat before turning to head back in. "Wait right here."

As the door opened, you could hear the woman start up with Roger this time, but the voices quickly muffled, as loud as they were...

Inside the store...

"Didn't I just tell you and that little vagrant not to step foot in my store like that?"

"Yes ma'am, ya did... We were going to purchase a ne-"

"Well then get out of my store! Now!"

Roger huffed, "Ma'am, I would like to purchase clothes, I promise you I have more than eno-"

"I said get out! I can't have my customers seeing the likes of you and that...that...impoverished woman out there in my store. My clothing is in fine taste and it's more than either of you can-"

This time it was Roger's turn to interrupt the woman. He slammed his hand down on the counter she hid behind creating a loud slap that made her jump and clamp her mouth shut.

"I can assure you, tu piezza di merda, that I can afford anything...AND EVERYTHING... in this fuckin' store right now. What I suggest, is ya rethink your first comments and let my friend in to try on anything she would like. If you don't, I'll make sure ya never sell a FUCKING THING AGAIN and your -family- feels the STRANGLING GRIP OF MY HANDS FOR GENERATIONS! DO I MAKE MYSELF FUCKING CLEAR!"

He slammed both hands down on the counter again as he yelled at the woman, her eyes finally catching a glimpse of the gun under his arm. She cowered a bit, and nodded...

"P-please don't sh-sh-shoot me! I have-"

He cut her off again, "I'm not gonna fuckin' shoot ya... That wouldn't make tha point now would it? Na, but all your nice clothes? I'll burn this mother fucker ta tha ground with you in it." He grinned, wickedly, leaning heavy on the desk. "An' I'll let -everyone- know, Mr. Rabbit said ya business is done."

"Y-y-you work f-for Mr. Rabbit?"

Another wicked smirk played across his features... "Lady, I -am- Mr. Rabbit."

Her eyes got large and she began apologizing and he waved his hand, clamping his fingers together for her to shut it... Quickly her lips pressed together.

"So, we gonna have a problem here? Or is it safe ta say my friend an' I can take a look around?"

She didn't speak again, but she nodded up and down emphatically.

"Good! An' don' worry about it. Ya business be safe, as well as ya family." He took a business card from the counter and walked to the front door, pushing it open.

"C'mon dollface," he called to Jessica, "let's get ya somethin' nice an' dry ta put on."

Jes tiptoed meekly into the store, her eyes cast down shyly.  "A... are you sure," she asked quietly, half to Roger and half to the woman working the counter. The woman simply nodded silently, and Jes couldn't hide the hint of a smile that pulled at the corner of her lips. Biting it away, she twirled one of her copper curls nervously, that same distant sadness creeping backing into her eyes. Part of her wished that he could work that magic on her doctors at Patton. Realistically, though, she knew that was just fantastical wishful thinking. The universe had already done her a HUGE kindness in allowing her this one day of blissful naivety. 

With a soft smile, Jessica looked around the small store with bright eyes. It had been a long time since her wardrobe held anything but starched white cotton. And the array of colourful dresses and accessories made her feel... and look... like a child in a candy store... or better yet, a little girl playing dress-up. Glancing around at the beautiful clothes, Jes resolved that whatever she bought today she was wearing into surgery when the time came... even if it was the last thing she ever did.

She paced the racks a few times, pausing here and there to hold up this or that. But it was all so overwhelming that she couldn't make even a single decision. With a light flush she turned to Roger and the woman at the counter, admitting, "There are so many pretty things. I have no idea what to try on." She smiled sweetly at Roger, who was picking out a few things of his own,  "Do you... um... you wanna help me pick something out? Maybe something bright?"  She didn't tell him it would likely be the last thing she ever put on purposely.

Roger was passing by the fedoras... One could never have enough fedoras. As Jessica asked for help, he moseyed over to her and put an arm around her...

"Somethin' bright, hmm? What about this one?" He held out a meshy, see-through, lavender dress. "And ya could wear a white slip beneath it?"

He smiled, and thought it would look stunning on the woman... However, he continued to flip through articles of clothing.

"Here, take it an' we can find a few more..."

He picked out a light blue one, a silk chiffon blooming orchid one, and a yellow, low 'V'-back one.

"I think these look really nice, an' would be quite flatterin' on ya. Try 'em on for me? If ya like one, or all of 'em, we can get matching hats an' shoes for ya too, doll."

He smiled, holding all four dresses out to her.

Jes wrinkled her nose at the orchids, and shook her head at the yellow, but scooped the other tow up into the crook of her arm. His help seemed to give her a jumpstart as she took off and started collecting other outfits. 

A peach cowl neck sheath

A blue beaded number

A cute little pink sundress with bright flowers (sure it was a little juvenile... but if anyone could pull it off, she could)

A bright fringed flapper

A deep, green v-neck

and an atrocious peacock print thing  that made Roger wrinkle his nose. 

One by one she tried them all on, modelling them each with a shining smile. The purple clashed a little with her red hair, but it was still fetching on her form. The pink one, she decided, was a no-go. On the off chance she ended up acting like a child, she didn't want to look  like one too, she thought to herself. The blue was quaintly flattering, and it made Roger smile... which she liked. The blue beaded one looked amazing with her hair, as did the fire coloured fringe number. The green v-neck looked like it could knock a man out just by being. And the Peacock dress actually looked surprisingly good on her, complimenting her hair and her figure quite nicely. 

All the options didn't help, though. As she still had no idea what to pick. Muttering softly to herself, she tried to narrow down the options by thinking rationally about the functionality of each one. The red one was too flashy. The green one probably too gawdy. That left the light blue, the peach, the darker blue beaded one, and the peacocks. Jes looked utterly dismayed as she turned to Roger with eyes pleading for help as she drowned in a sea fabric. "Help?" she asked pathetically. Eyeing the far wall that held shoes, purses, hats, fascinators, and all manner of jewelry. Oh, Christ... next they'd have to accessorize!

Roger smiled a LOT as she tried on clothes and smiled even more as she got to his light blue one. It was absolutely stunning on her... But then came the fiery red fringe dress, and the low cut...AMAZING... green dress. He shifted his stance and adjusted himself to hide his encroaching, accepted but not -currently- welcomed, arousal... Wet clothes and public appearances, all that jazz.

Once Jessica finished trying them on and modeling for everyone, even the bitchy store owner was getting involved...

"Oh honey, that blue flapper with the beads looks absolutely -stunning- on you! And I have the perfect headpiece for it!"

She grabbed a feathery piece and held it up... Followed in her other hand by a peacock feather one...

"And this one would match the peacock dress!"

Roger smiled as the owner now became invested... Apparently his talk had helped her get over her...prejudices. He looked at Jessica. "I say ya take tha light blue one, tha beaded one, tha peach one, an' tha peacock one. They all looked stunnin' on ya an' they seem ta be ya favorites. Though I liked tha fringe one an' tha 'V'-cut green one as well."

He saw Jessica's face frown, and before she could protest he waved his hand. "Fugeddabout worryin' ova money, doll. I got plenty of it an' today is my treat."

The owner coughed before chirping in, "Also, everything is fifty percent off for the two of you today."

Roger eyed her, perking his brow, not expecting the owner to have even offered a discount. Apparently his talk had done even MORE than he'd anticipated. Though his perked brow sent the wrong message to the owner as she squeaked and corrected her offer...

"Er, seventy-five percent off for the lovely lady's clothing..." He chuckled and waved his hand. "No no, mia amica. A ten percent discount will more than make our first meeting more than agreeable." He smiled kindly to the older, now much less crotchety, woman who seemed to ease up a LOT at his statement.

Jes TOTALLY floundered when Roger suggested she get all of them. "No no. Dom, really. I can't let you do that. I can't we... I mean... I have to wear... um... uniforms ... during the week so. I won't get nearly enough use out of them to let you do that. Really. I only need one." She tried to hide her stammering. 'Uniforms'... that sounded believable, right? " Okay, okay..." she said softly, fishing out a few of the more popular choices. "Which one of these is your favourite?" 

One by one Jes held up his light blue choice, the green v-neck, and the peacock number. Surely there was a good choice in there. 

"And then I'll finish accessorizing by myself while you finish shopping and changing. I promise."

Roger reached over and grabbed the light blue one and the peacock number. "Hows about just tha two of 'em then?" He smiled at her... "But if it HAS ta be one? I say tha light blue one. I think it brings out tha color of ya skin, an' makes ya hair pop!" He motioned with his hands like an explosion as he said it again... "POP!"

He nodded to her as she decided on just the one and he looked at the storekeeper, "Ey, help'er out, would ya? Get 'er somethin' nice an' I'll make sure ya get some damned good business in tha next week, capisce?"

He moved through the store until he found a nice outfit, a four piece set with black slacks, a black, long sleeved button down, a white neck tie, and a black with white pin stripes vest. He found some black suspenders on another hanger and snagged those as well, grabbing a white fedora with a black sash on it on his way to the changing room.

Roger started to strip out of his wet clothes, using the still dry, previously tucked in part of his otherwise soaked shirt to dry himself as best as possible. It didn't take him too long to get the new outfit tugged over his damp skin, tucking the black long sleeve into the slacks and fastening the hook on the waistband. He attached the new suspenders and then tied the white tie around his neck before he slipped the vest on, tucking the tie down into the vest. Looking at himself in the mirror, Roger smirked, smoothing the clothing over him. It looked good. Last step, however, was of course rolling his sleeves up and setting the white fedora atop his head.

He was barefoot as he stepped out to search for Jess and the shop owner. The suit fit him almost to a tee, the pants being the only part that needed adjusting; the legs dragging under his feet. The seamstress owner could certainly tack and hem them immediately for purchase of course. He smiled, it felt nice to be dry... But he would still need some socks and a new pair of shoes. Shrugging it off for now, he wandered about until he found the pair looking over hats and headpieces...

Both women were chittering excitedly over accessories, but when Roger stepped out in his suit the room fell silent. He was absolutely smashing; in a way that obliterated any sense of 'cool Jes' to which the redhead was still tenuously clinging. "Oh sweet mother Mary," she whispered huskily, lips slightly parted and breathing hitched. Turning away from him she whispered quietly to the shop owner, "Please tell me I'm not dreaming. I'm not dreaming, right?" 

The older woman chuckled and shook her head. "No Darlin," she said with a kind smile, giving Jes' arm a gentle squeeze. "...but I might be," she added with a laugh as she eyed the two. Jes turned back around with a smile and regarded Roger with a teasingly pensive look. With a shrug, she decided that if the world was giving her sugar for once, she might as well make sweetcakes. Snagging a light blue tie from the wall, she picked a black fedora with a matching blue band and shoved them unquestionably into Roger's hands with a sly smirk. 

Giving him a wink, she handed off her white hat and went back to the drawing board for black accessories. A cloche hat with black band and flowers, black lace gloves, a shimmering strand of black Keshi pearls, and Gibson pumps.  It was a fetching ensemble... even if the matching was a bit much. 

Roger smirked a little as Jes sauntered off, shaking his head lightly at the blue tie. But he had to admit, with the way she looked right now, he wouldn't mind matching her for the afternoon. Not. At. All. Holding the tie up to her dress he smiled, "Oh yeah, Doll. That'll match nicely."  Flipping the collar of his shirt he loosened the white tie he was wearing and slipped it off over his head, and made quick work of a fancy tulip knot with a cocky grin. Dropping the black and blue fedora low over his eyes he smirked at the women, and Jes tried... she REALLY tried... to fight the pale flush that spread across her cheeks and chest. 

Roger smiled and winked at her playfully, which only flustered her all the more, before turning to the shop owner,  "I think this'll do, Miss. Just tack me up and we'll be on our way." The shop owner almost looked disappointed as she led Roger over to a small pedestal in front of three large mirrors. Pinning and tacking his slacks took no time at all, and before she knew it, Roger was ushering her out the door. She tried to protest, "But, really, I have my own money..." 

It was no use. Part of her didn't even want to fight him. He smiled and wrapped a guiding arm tightly around her shoulders, moving toward the car with a light chuckle.  "Good, then you can come back and buy that nice little peacock number later, Doll Face." For a moment, her eyes flashed that same sad look. But she slipped into the car without further protest. "Thank you, Roger. Truly," she cooed, taking his hand as he slid into the driver's seat. "You'll have to head back toward the pier for ice cream. Hit Ocean Avenue, and head South... Left. It's a few blocks down between Pacific Street and Ocean Park Boulevard. You can't possibly Miss it. There's a giant, puffy cone on the sign." 

Jes continued to hold his hand as they drove, her fingers tracing the lines of his knuckles and palm, wishing she could just relive this one day for the rest of her life. "Oh! That's It!"  Jes peeped excitedly as a 3-D waffle cone loomed in the distance. To Roger's surprise... and pleasure... she hadn't brought him to just any ice cream parlour. No. This was Giancarlo's Gelato! And as they stepped out of the car, the sticky sweet smell of sweet cream that filled the salty sea air, drug him back to his days in Sicily as a young boy. 

The bell above the door tinkled softly as they entered the shop, cartons of all flavours lined up behind the glass counter, mouthwatering chunks of fruit, chocolate, and flavour visible even from the door. This was going to be a real treat... for them both. 

"JESSICA!" a large Italian man boomed cheerfully from behind the counter. "You look positively radiant, Dolcezza! And no WHITE! The shop has missed you, Bella. How are you? Are you well?" Jes bit her bottom lip, shrinking away a little as Roger entered the store behind her looking positively ecstatic. It was his turn to do the kid in a candy store bit. "Giani," Jes cooed back, trying her hardest to mask the obvious air that she was hiding something. "I've missed you too, Darling. My life just isn't the same without your magic! Dom," she slapped Roger's arm lightly to get his attention, tearing his eyes away from the rows upon rows of fresh, homemade Gelato. "Meet Giancarlo. He's a miracle worker. Giani, mia dolce, this is my new friend Dom. You do him extra right. Capisce?" 

It was almost endearing to hear the woman tossing around their mother tongue as the men exchanged friendly but guarded nods. "You know me, cara mia. Sea salt and caramel. Two scoops. Extra sauce."  Giani was already working before she even told him what she wanted. Obviously, she came here rather regularly. And the odd smile the man gave her told Roger there was something special about her visits. "So..." she wrapped an arm around Roger's elbow, hugging him a little closer than she probably should. "What looks good?"

He couldn't help but stare at everything in the gelato shop, mouth watering... It took Jessica smacking his arm to snap him back to reality and he nodded to Giani.

"Honestly, Doll, everything looks amazing. Can't say I've had any gelato in a long time... An' it smells jus' like back in Sicily." He nodded again to Giani in a way that made the large Italian smile. It was a compliment for certain.

"Per favore, please tell me ya have pistachio?" Roger grinned wide, eyeing a greenish looking gelato from across the room before guiding Jessica up to the counter. "And I guess ya come here often, if not often enough, Jessica?" He looked at her, his smile growing wider as he took in her appearance.

"Mmm... about once a month. When I'm lucky," Jes replied, giving a squealing chuckle as Giani handed her a hulking heap of vanilla gelato drizzled with thick caramel and dusted with small beads of rock salt like sprinkles. Peering over the top of the cone, she smiled as Roger's eyes lit up, too.  Giani frowned slightly at the sight of Roger's gun, watching him with narrowed eyes as Jes pulled him close. But as she smiled, the fluffy fellow's scowl melted away. "Si, amico," Giani chimed, plodding over to a different tub of cream, and digging out three heaping scoops. It was paler than the one Roger had been eyeing and speckled with darker green dots."Just finished the fresh batch about twenty minutes ago." 

Jes thought Roger's eyes would surely fall out of his head as Giani moved back toward the counter. Giani knocked the top scoop off into a small cup with a sly smile, "Allow me, Amico?" Giani gestured at the plethora of garnishes that lined the prep table. "Any friend of Jessica's is a friend of mine. Especially if they make her smile like that," He winked at Jes, handing the plain two-scoop cone to Roger.  "This will satisfy your nostalgia, but let me work my magic on this little one for you. You will never look at gelato the same again. I promise." 

Jes patted his arm, moving to take a seat... her seat... at a small two person table by the window. Roger, still smiling like a kid on Christmas, nodded silently; sticking by the counter to watch Giani 'work his magic'. Roger gave a good-natured shrug and a smile as Giani waddled up and down the prep line.  "Dumonte Verdenoce... for a little bite. Coconut creme to belay the sweetness. Toasted coconut flakes for a little warmth. And salted roast pistachios for extra crunch. To die for. On my honour." 

Placing the cup in Roger's empty hand with both of his, Giani held him fast for a moment, whispering low, "You take good care of her while you have her... Amico." The more-than-portly man gave Roger a stern, almost fatherly nod as he released his hand. "And enjoy the gelato. Jessica's visits are always on the house."

Roger smiled at all of the gelato, and seemed overly excited to hold it in his hand. He tasted the cone of pistachio while Giani worked on the other scoop, fixing it up nice and fancy. As he handed it to Roger, however, his words made the man cock his head and look Giani in the eyes.

"While I have 'er?" Roger's avian like tilt to his head told Giani he had -NO- idea what the man meant by that.

"An' thanks for tha gelato. She must be an amazing signora if she is so well liked by you." He stood there still waiting to see if Giani would give him any hints as to what he meant, but the man turned back to his counter with a simply smile, patting Roger on the shoulder.

With a heavy shrug, Roger turned and made his way to sit with Jessica.

"That looks pretty amazin', doll. An' I gotta say Giani makes a damned good pistachio gelato. Took me straight home wit' tha first taste. But this one..." Roger pointed at the little cup that Giani had made special, a large smile on his face. "This is fuckin' amazin'..." he whispered.

"So how's yours? What ya wanted before we left tha beach?"