A gentle, coastal breeze stirred the heavy fog as Nico quietly followed Cesare toward Club Sugarline. The eddying mist mirrored her swirling thoughts as she stole sidelong glances up at him between long, sweeping looks at the incandescent glow of their surroundings. Nonchalantly keeping one assessing eye on her would-be accomplice as she maintained lookout for any potential interference. Always one jump and three moves ahead, she was already scheming several ways to make off with HER gems. 

Word on the street was Johnson had Business this week. Whoever that business was with, Nico was confident she had no mind to cut anyone else in on her little score. So, realistically, Sugarline was out of the question. A convenient excuse to make an exit, sure... but no place to be doing private business. 

There was only one place she really trusted for deals of this magnitude. Problem was she didn't trust anyone enough to share that location. And the implications of doing so now tugged at her tightly laced seams with such angst and vigour that she physically squeezed Ces' arm as they walked. Her grip growing tighter with each echoing step as she side-eyed him. "Streetrat, huh?"

She paused just outside the club, hanging back from the entrance line, and turned to face him. A weighty, assessing gaze sweeping over him without so much as the pretense of shame or apology. Silently, she appraised him; taking in his sharp features, his unruly and half-done hair, the baggy cut of his clothes - like he was living in the shadow of a legacy that no longer fit him... If it ever did. His loose collar revealed the hollow of defined collarbones - their shadow whispering of a well-hidden athleticism... of appetites sated through labour. Further down, his hands - still stained with soot - were broader than she'd initially given him credit for. Lanky, sure... almost creepily so. But with the kind of strength that could easily encapsulate a neck. And above it all - watching her with the same keen interest returned tenfold - she noted his eyes. Their colour was still indecipherable in the dim light. Yet behind them - as clear as an ember - burned an ambition... fueled from the compost of a resentment and loathing that the world would have said was his only birthright. 

She saw his greed, and his longing.
He was covetous. 
He was rapaciously hungry for power, for wealth, but most of all for recognition. 
He was a killer. There was no doubt in her mind. 
He was - as he'd said - a perfectly played game of chess just waiting for the next checkmate.

But more than that, she saw an unmistakable kinship. 
And perhaps, that was most terrifying of all.
(God, just kill her and get it over with. That would be more tolerable!)

A slow blink severed her scrutinizing attention like a cat indicating tenuous trust. A soft gulp camouflaged by a ruffle of her dark curls as she smoothly guided him away from the club. "Come on, kiddo. I know a place we can chat. Safely."
 

Thoughts swirled around Cesare's head as they walked. He'd never been to Club Sugarline. Truth be told, he wasn't certain tonight was the night for that... Yet here they were, two unknown accomplices making their way in the direction of a life he had just started to understand... Fucking Frankie. A twinge caused his eye to narrow - why now was he thinking of Frankie? Why, of all times, now?

A shake of his head dismissed the nauseating thought as he looked in her direction. He'd taken note plenty already, but this was the closest he'd had a chance to notice her. To -REALLY- notice her. She was beautiful, of course. That was the obvious... But the long, dark curls that framed her soft face, and dark, deep eyes to match. She looked... Terrifying was the first word that mustered its way into his mind. He couldn't fathom a more terrifying woman, currently. And yet, it was that presence that made her oh-so-alluring.

"Yea... Parents bit it in when I was a little kid. Ain't really had nowhere to go but the streets. So?" He waved his free arm out in front of them. "Welcome to my home, the great city of Hollywood... Or, WAS the great city of Hollywood, until the folks voted to be incorporated by L.A. Water, they said... Water an' sewer... But I don't buy it. Too much money to be made here, an' Hollywood couldn't overshadow L.A., y'know? So, now we's part of L.A. proper." He chuckled as they kept walking.

He felt her arm tense up on his, and he looked toward her again. Just what was this ambitious girl thinking? He reached up and ran a hand through his longer, disheveled hair to brush it back and clean up slightly. And so she could get a good, hard look at him. This was the first time he'd truly wanted someone to SEE him. Not that he didn't desire recognition, but this was a different kind of...desire.

Pausing outside the club, he watched her take a good look at him. His baggy, overgrown suit made him look smaller and less formidable, sure. But the way she stared, he could tell she saw right through that distraction. So, he straightened and stood tall, reaching to fix his cufflinks and straighten the unbuttoned collar. "What?" he questioned, just before she gave him the 'kiddo' again, and offered a good place to speak... Safely.

"Alright then, doll, lead th' way," he cracked a grin at her and offered his arm again. The odd couple strolling down the street; he in his baggy suit and she dressed to the nines.

"I'll foll'a... For now," he added as she nodded and dragged them off toward their newest destination. There was a pause in her step, a momentary hiccup, as he muttered the for now. So he wasn't just an eager puppy dog following a new master. Seemed he was just as leary and choosing to trust for the moment.

As they walked along, he attempted to strike up some conversation with a well-placed, "Sooo..."

"Why don'tcha tell me a little about ya'self?" He grinned at her as if asking that question was akin to asking the Devil to play a fiddle battle for a satchel of gems and a city full of gold.

There was never a moment she considered him a puppy... or a kid for that matter. She didn't - nor would she ever - expect him to follow blindly, or offer loyalty that didn't come with the inevitable promise of rolled carpets and concrete heels. The stutter was more a momentary ponderance of just how long she could avoid that black-plastic tailored fitting. And what harsh realities might befall her between now and then if she misjudged him at any point along the way. 

"Not much to tell, honestly," Nico waved off his interest with an upward glance that hinted at more honesty than she would normally afford. "Never knew my folks. No idea where they came from or what happened to them. No papers, of course. So... Not sure if I was born here or brought here. Just know here is where I've always been." She shrugged lightly, prepared for he inevitable onslaught of questions. People always had questions. And they rarely believed that she truly didn't have the answers. "Guess you could say the city raised me... with a little help from a few fleeting mentors over the years. Some good, some bad, all temporary."

Her dark head bobbled back and forth as she quietly decided whether that was enough information to satiate the cornered beast on her arm. Silently fishing into her pocket for a smoke to light, she steered him toward a particularly dilapidated section of long-abandoned structures at the outermost rim of the business district. 

They were very nearly to the wharf... nearly... when she turned and tugged him up a salt-etched set of sun-bleached stairs toward the towering skeleton of some long-dead skyscraper. An office building, perhaps. Or a hotel that never reached completion. Now just a spectre among the other cut losses and collateral damage that littered the city. 

She gave no explanation as she dropped his arm to dart inside. One hand fished an old brass key from the pocket of her fitted trench, headed wordlessly toward an ancient-seeming gated elevator. Which she unlocked with little effort, sliding the doors open with a soft grunt and clambering in to stand neatly next to the decade-old hand crank. 

Whether he continued with their little game of trust and verify or not, she was obviously going up regardless. 
It was his choice now - whether or not, 50 years from now, he'd want to say he had the guts to get in. 
Or if in that time, with diamonds in hand, he'd still be wondering if he lost the greatest score of his life. 

It was a no-brainer for Cesare as he headed for the elevator. His hand dipped into his pocket and produced his Zippo, striking it with the flick of a wrist and offering up flame for the smoke she craved. His other hand reached for the hand-crank... He absolutely had the guts to get in.

"City's got a way'a that, y'know? Never knowin' where ya came from, and just endin' up here." He offered her a shrug; it was well enough an answer for him. He wouldn't pry into what she claimed to not know about her own life. Not unless he got a whiff of deceit, which there was none... For now.

"Anyways... what's up with this place? Got a key an' everything. You sure you ain't some high-rollin' fancy gonna shove me off the top?" He chuckled, starting to turn the crank... The elevator lurched as his arm worked the lever in circles. Slowly, they rose.

"Just tell me when, yeah?"

Nico smirked at his mention of the top. Not maliciously, but gleefully. Like a child with some nearly intolerable secret. And as she savoured the sweet kiss of that healthful smoke (so the doctors said, anyway), she gave no invitation to 'when' until the soft, grinding 'ding' of the top floor halted their ascent. 

"Shove?" she cooed, "Never! ... though if you fall over, that's your own fault." 

Her smile was glowing, a light to rival the city's many signs, as she tugged the heavy door open; savouring his inevitable expression as she welcomed him into her secret world with a flourishing wave of her arm. 

Beyond the dated aperture of the elevator lay a luxuriously arranged and sumptuously decorated space that could easily rival the richest gypsy queen's palace. The entire top floor had been converted into an open concept penthouse; an artful hodgepodge of rich drapery and fine furniture - all reclaimed no doubt, but meticulously restored, and made all the more aesthetic by the soft, flickering glow of a hand-bricked fireplace and two-dozen or so candelabras. 

"There's running water. Feel free to wash up," Nico winked and gestured to a screened-off 'batroom', complete with a copper clawfoot tub and antique brass standing sink. "No electricity, though. So maybe take a candle with you," she called, slowly making her way around the building to pull back the heavy drapes. More and more of his precious city revealing itself with each draw... fist the waterfront and the pier, then the glistening business district below, and finally the flickering incandescent glow of that famous sign, writ large acoss the hillside - Hollywoodland. ... and this no-name broad with no past and no future was sitting on the best damn view of the whole thing. 360 degrees of to-kill-for vistas. ... and nobody knew. 

Quietly, Nico tiptoed over to a ladder tucked nonchalantly into the far corner and tiptoed up to crack a camouflaged hatch in the ceiling. The rusty iron creaked out in groaning protest. "You're not afraid of heights, are you, Ces?" she called over her shoulder teasingly, before disappearing to the roof with a bottle of wine and two stemmed crystal glasses. 

Ces couldn't help but chuckle at the incredulous 'Never!' she'd offered him, though the thought of falling did, now, eek its way into his mind. Great. Thanks Nico...

The concept of running water, in a place like this, threw him for a loop, though, as he spun in the perfectly situated penthouse to take in the view. "Are you sayin' I smell?" he quipped back, looking her way just in time to see her crawling up that ladder and pushing through to the roof. For a curious sort, he averted his eyes like a proper gentleman from her upskirt shot as she crested the top... Two glasses and a bottle, huh?

With her vanished, he called out. "Guess I'll at least wash up my face an' hands. Meet ya up there in a bit, Nico."

Now, to find a place he could hide the jewels so at least they weren't QUICKLY accessible for her to either lift off a drunken idiot, or a recently deceased one, whichever direction she chose to attack; if she thought to attack. Safety first, right? Ensuring one's safety was always a plus move.

Under the bed? Nah, too easy... Eventually, he discovered a neatly tucked-away little hidey spot. One in plain sight. This was where the gems were deposited, the satchel empty. If she wanted them bad enough, he could at least make her have to wreck her delightfully organized chaos to find them.

Grabbing a candle, Ces headed for the tub, jacket being tossed over the divider. Then his shirt. A quick rub down with a damp cloth to clean the sweat from his torso, then a quick wash of his hands and face... He tossed his hair back and stared into the mirror, finger tracing over one of many scars and reminders of the hard life he'd had growing up... "Fuck it..." he huffed, then ran that hand through his hair again, snagging his Zippo and pewter cigarette case from his coat pocket. Lighting one up, he dropped the case and lighter into his trousers and headed, shirtless, for the ladder.

"Comin' up now, Nico... But God damn this view down here, you can damn well see everything!" he called, poking his head up through the hatchway. "But to answer ya, nah... I ain't afraid'a heights."

He climbed the rest of the way up, toned physique flexing as he moved and clambered out of the vertical entrance. With one look around, he nearly gasped in excitement at the unhindered view from up top. "Jesus, fuckin', Christ... This is fuckin' great, Nico." He stretched tall, raising his arms high above his head with a few snap, crackles, and pops. With a wide grin and a cigarette between his lips, he looked back her way... "Lucky, that's what you's is."

The roof was arguably even more impressive than the 'penthouse'. A wrought iron table set and several chaise lounges lay nestled amidst a veritable rainforest of lush plants arranged with that same artistic chaos. Flowering vines and rows of edibles all in full bloom around the wrought-iron scrollwork that had been added as a decorative railing - perhaps a lesson well-learned? If her jokes were to be believed. And beyond that, unmatched and unburdened views of the best vistas in the city. All topped with a balmy breeze right off the waterfront. Were it not for the dilapidated neighborhood and the barely audible roar of the city below, he could almost have fooled himself into believing they'd somehow wormholed their way to some secluded Mediterranean cabana. 

For her part, Nico was curled on a chaise with a glass of wine in one hand, completely ignoring the horizon in favour of more localized scenery. She'd meant he could wash his HANDS. But this... this worked, too. 

Though it didn't take long for her dark eyes to narrow in suspicious realization. Check. She felt the knight closing in on her queen as the full implication of his shirtlessness flashed behind her keen gaze. Good move. 

"Luck's got nothing to do with it... doll." she paused and playfully avoided calling him 'kid'. "Everything you see here is built of pure blood, sweat, and tears. Mostly my own... mostly," she paused and winked. IYKYK, "I worked for every bit of this. Rebuilt and refurbished with my own two hands. Defended likewise... when necessary." 

Her dark curls cascaded around her shoulders like a black velvet curtain as she exhaled a ring of smoke heavenward, framing the constellation Scorpius - upon which she mused as she nursed her wine glass and her view of him. "I don't usually bring other people here," she admitted with an air of vulnerability, "But I thought a self-proclaimed street rat might benefit from experiencing just how well the city can lavish her children... when they stop treating themselves like unwanted rubbish." 

"Well, she's sure lavished you now, ain't she?" He chuckled, hands in pockets, and made his way over while puffing the cigarette hanging between his lips. "Guess there's a lesson to be learned in there for me. Quit seein' myself as rubbish, yea?" He gestured to himself. "Figure I can do that pretty well now. I sure as shit don't see rubbish in that mirror by your bath when I look in it." There was that stylistic smirk that he seemed to wear often.

"So how'd ya come across this joint, anyway? Ain't likely someone rented it to ya's." He paused before her and squatted down before rolling back and letting his ass plant on the ground. Knees up, he leaned forward on them and plucked his cigarette free, holding it in his left hand. "Tell me that story, yea?"

He couldn't help himself, curious about her. Curious about the city's hidden high roller. His dark eyes gazed up and over her form. She seemed remarkably comfortable and relaxed. In her element, so to speak. And he, the lowly street scamp, was at her feet like some precursor to a bad, R-rated Disney film knockoff in the making.

She looked poised, dignified, and important. And he looked quite the opposite. Even if they were both practically homeless street orphans, they still came from two entirely different worlds. But maybe his world could change, too. Perhaps this was finally that chance to be seen. REALLY seen. His chance to finally make a mark on the city, or better, the world. And to boot? If things went the best route? He'd have a damn good looking accomplice and partner on his arm as he did it. No, as THEY did it... He allowed himself to fantasize just a small amount where she DIDN'T end up killing him or using him to get rich and leave... Like everyone else. Everyone except Frankie... DAMMIT, why did he keep ruining all the GOOD fantasies in his head? Maybe that was just because it was so recent and traumatising for the young hooligan turning gangster.

He gave his head one good shake and a blink of his eyes to clear that messy thought and reached for the bottle and the second glass...

Except they didn't. They didn't at all. That was the message she kept trying to hammer home for him. What he saw - the carefully crafted image that she made him see - was nothing more than a choice put into practice. That was all. It was a decision and half a decade of learning... copying. Just as forged as the classical artwork that adorned the downstairs walls or the sculptures that dotted her little rooftop garden. He thought her world was different because she fed him that perception... instead of settling for the 'street rat' glares that would have been forced on her otherwise. 

"Oh... this old place?" she cooed and waved a hand like it was nothing. "Just one of my safehouses." 

One of. 

"I conned it off one of those not-so-nice mentors who had a hand in my upcoming. Made sure it was willed over when the poor sod bit the dust. Unfortunate tumble during a construction contract, as I recall." She smirked lackidasically, but something in her eyes... at the very back of her glance... reminded him of Frankie. Or rather, what he'd done to Frankie. 

Sighing softly, she pat the chaise next to her, "Why don'tcha have a real seat, kiddo? Pull yourself up off the floor? ... if you don't wanna share, you can pull over any seat that suits your fancy. I have several." 

She didn't wait for him to move, just continued softly. "Lucenzo ran a dirty scheme with a buncha the neighborhood brats. Pickpockets and delinquents, all - no parents to go whining to for safety or fairness. Introduced us to all manner of rings, rackets, and ruthlessness. Right outta the downstairs. Least... you only ever wanted to see the downstairs. The kids what got taken upstairs, well... we didn't see them no mores." She smiled at him, puposefully allowing a hint of her natural manners and accent sneak through. Telling more of the story without saying a word. 

"We called it The Lighthouse... ironically, mind you. Because it was 'a light in the dark' when you needed it worst but you had to be REAL desperate, cuz it was also a place steady ships should avoid. Well... that and cuz a the lights that used to pop off like fairies up here at night... silly the way kids see things, y'know?" Nico swirled her glass with an air of bittersweet nostalgia; half mournful over the loss of that innocence and half resentful it had ever existed. 

"Anyhow... one day one a them kids wizened up enough to beat the old man at his own game. And well... no more kids disappeared after that -- not from here at least. In truth, I reckon that ain't exactly a racket to just shrivel up with the death of a single player. But... long as it ain't in my house, who am I to go looking for trouble that ain't looking for me?" 

Nico took a long drag and exhaled another ring up lasso the starry scorpion above her. 
"Took me a good long while to spiffy up. And still takes greasing a few palms every now and again when there's a new mayor or chief in town. But... it's given me a good place to grow from. And lord knows it's pretty enough... from the inside, at least. Well worth the years mastering the skills necessary to make it glow, no?" 

A smile crossed the young Cesare's lips, a real one, as she recounted her story. Or maybe it was that glint in her eye and the way she spoke of old "mentors". It reminded him of Frankie. Only, he liked Frankie. It sounded like her mentor was more to fear, or hate, than anything else. But that was besides the point.

He stood and moved to the chaise, joining her as he sank into the soft, velvety exterior of the lounge chair and resting his back into the corner nook of it. Crossing his legs, he raised one arm over the back of the chaise, and the other down the armrest, each hand holding a vice; the cigarette and the glass of drink.

"So your mentor had an accident. I know a bit about that," he smiled, but even his natural charisma couldn't hide the sadness behind the gloomy, dark look that for a split second took hold.

"But, the rest of that? Absolute bullshit. Kids are bound to make mistakes, gotta set'em straight. They don't know nothin' 'bout loyalty yet. Shouldn't be killin' th' next generation before they get a chance. Christ... Glad you made it outta that." He lifted his drink in toast to her health.

"Anyways, you've done a helluva job on this joint, Nico. I'm impressed," he brought his cigarette to his lips and took a gentle drag. "Also like that lighthouse analogy," he added almost as an afterthought, as he plucked the stick from his lips and ashed off the back of the lounge.

"I'd say you's got some serious skill, both in spifyin' this joint up, and givin' folks a perception that you want them to see... But now that just makes me wanna know ya more. Maybe take a page outta ya's own book for myself. Heard somewheres you should dress for th' job ya want and th' life ya want. Might need someone more versed in that ta show me tha ropes a bit, y'know what I mean?"

A gentle chuckle graced the evening breeze as a second smile lit up his face. "I'ma be honest, I think I like ya - at least in a friendly manner. Hope that don't bother ya's none."

Though after the comment, he tilted his head. "Guess we best discuss th' real reason we's both here though, huh? Them gems. Now, you left'em for me, and I could'a taken off with'em, and not gave a shit one way... But that ain't me. I don't like feelin' like I owe someone. And I would'a felt like I owed ya. So, whatta ya say we's go half on it?" And there it was, the pitch. That shift from idle, friendly-ish chit chat to business...

"Fuck the job, Ces. You should always and only dress like the MAN you want to be," she tipped her glass to him as if that were some truly weighty wisdom that ought to be written down. (So he was a man now...) "I can teach you all about proper tailoring and posturing. But ultimately you have to decide who you want to be... who you want people to see... and then MAKE THEM see it, until it becomes who you ARE... in your own eyes as much as everyone else's."

Nico paused and canted her head to one side, "Why would that bother me?? ... and surely you're not the kind of man who would ever assume a woman would be BOTHERED by your presence, hm??" She was teasing him. But there was a hinting ring to her words - half chastizement and half inuendo - like a clarion call for him to step the fuck up. 

The shift to business seemed to bother her almost none at all. She maintained that same languid poise as her head bobbled from one side to the other, as if she were actually giving any consideration to the offer at all. "We could..." she offered with a cheshire grin, "OR... and just hear me out before you tumble into a reactionary decision... You could take it as an investment on future ventures?" Her brows lofted and waggled at him teasingly. As if she were dangling a ribeye in front of a lion with no regard at all for the risk. "Say... pay it down on building out your persona... suits, watches, chains, shoes... a decent place to live... a bellhop or two to field business. Things that'll get you into all those places you say you don't belong so you can do bigger business than......... what is it, hm? A small-time pawnshop with no capital??"

Her smile rivaled the Hollywood(land) sign as her gaze raked over him, cool, calm, collected, calculating. 

"I mean, I'll take 50% if that's all you're up for. But the way I see it, having 'Friends' is far more valuable, no?" 
'Friends'... said with all the weight of The Business. Not quite partners... not yet. But the hint was there... if he could stomach taking it. 

He blinked a few times at the blatant statement, but tilted his glass back and nodded in agreement. "Settled then, I'll dress the way I wanna dress startin' tomorrow. For who I wanna be. That makes sense." He chuckled, then nodded again as she spoke. "Not so much worried my presence bothered, hell I could tell from the way your eyes ate me up when I came up I wasn't a bother...or maybe I -was-, heh," a wink followed that statement before he continued. "But no, I just meant some folks get weird when people say they like ya. Take it to mean more than it is and get bent all outta shape. Fuckin' weirdos." There was a shrug to follow that. "But glad yous get it. Ain't like I'm sayin' I'm in love wit'cha or some stupid shit like that."

"BUT," he countered to the latter half of her argument before she could interrupt him.

"IF you's insistin' I takes them gems an' use it as an investment - what's that gonna cost me, huh? Cause theys always a catch, even if I agree friends is far more valuable."

He leaned back again and pondered on it all. "I'll take ya up on that offer of investment - pendin' our terms on it. But I got a question," he shifted in his seat a bit, obviously still relaxed but perhaps a bit more - interested... "What makes you think I got anythin'a do with a small bit pawn shop?"

Nico CACKLED - loud and boisterous from deep in her belly. The kind of sound that tossed her head back and bounced her body and her curls all at once. "Maybe you just seem the type." She winked playfully, "Or maybe I've been around long enough to know a little something about the Businesses that run in these parts." 

Calmly, she savoured a deep sip from her glass - a damn fine vintage - nodding out toward the wharf below. "Or, maybe, sometimes living up here gives a girl a bird's eye view of the latest cold cases." 

None of it was said with malice, nor any hint of threat. Just a matter of fact. They both knew how Life was in The Business. And that was simply all there was to it. 

"As for terms - obviously I'd be investing in a future alliance. I reckon if you take the gems as your leg up in This Life... that just maybe we could polish you into the kinda of Friend that might foster... shall we say... mutually beneficial arrangements? Hm??" Nico paused and sat up, giving him full and fully respectful attention. Her gaze settled on him like an equal. With weight and consideration. Not just look AT him or past him or even INTO him... but looking TO him. 

"Now, I'm not suggesting that you work for me. Or that you'd necessarily owe me any kind of loyalty. Only that... I'll help you help yourself if afterward we help eachother, hm??"

Cesare sat there for a long moment after she'd finished her pitch, mulling it over. Chewing his lip, sucking his teeth. All the normal 'I'm thinkin' about it' tells. A few nods in between, and then he finally leaned forward to set his glass on the nearby table and placed his cigarette in his mouth.

"Fair enough," he muttered, looking out towards the open sky and the bird's eye view of the musings beneath. Reaching up and snuffing the last of his cig between his fingers as he puffed it, the thing was plucked from his lips and flicked over the edge of the building, flittering and fluttering its way to the ground many floors down. Then, he raised his right hand and offered it out to her.

"Let's says I take your deal... I don't mind havin' a partner in this thing. This life. This God forsaken cesspit of a city. Helps havin' folks you can build trust with. Build an Empire that ain't made'a glass an' dirt. I'll clean myself up, and then we can talk again, yeah? And uh, guess I don't needa tell yas you can find me at Honest Pawn if I ain't out on the street hustlin'. Or here, shackin' up ta make use'a ya's... runnin' waters." His eyes glanced low for a moment. Maybe it was unsurity in his confidence... Maybe it was a hinted innuendo... Maybe it was a weird tick. Who really knew? But there was that wicked little smirk that teased across his lips as his eyes raised back to hers.

Nico smiled - gently and genuinely - as she shook his hand. Loosing it only to slowly raise his chin when he lowered his gaze. Her touch was tractable and tender, reassured by the smirk that emerged as he met her gaze. That was better. Her smile widened with a soft, affectionate expression that whispered 'there you are'. Her gaze drank him in like a work of fine art. Reading him. SEEING HIM. 

"Why don't you stay here tonight? I know I don't exactly have rooms in the traditional sense. But I do have a spare bed. You can... marinate for a night... somewhere that doesn't make you feel lowly or less than. If you'd like, I'll launder your suit. And tomorrow you can wake up in silk sheets, to a lovely view, have a fancy breakfast over mimosas, and take a proper hot shower before we go shopping. You could think of it as practice... for the 'high life'. What do you say?"

"One good look and ya already askin' me ta stay? Daaaamn," he chuckled with a playful wink. "But nah, thank ya Nico. I'd," he paused and looked out over the city, the nightlife hustle and bustle flowing beneath them. "I'd appreciate that. At most, tha hot shower," he offered a genuine laugh. Beds? They didn't matter so much. He could sleep anywhere. HAD slept everywhere, except with the fishes... so to speak.

"Good nights rest, nice shower, an' a shoppin' spree once we make a pitstop with a guy I know. He'll take tha gems at a decent price."

Cesare smiled at her. This was either going to be an extremely peaceful night, or an eternally peaceful one... He hoped for the former. AND, with the pretense of Business? It seemed the most likely of situations.

Dusting his hands, he pushed himself up and offered that very hand that had raised her from the booth in the Velvet Ember again, bowing his head politely as a gentleman did, even if said gentleman was shirtless.

"Let's go get some rest. Sun'll be up in a few hours, and so will I."

Nico rolled her eyes as she took his hand, giving him the tiiiiiniest of slight, playful nudges at his gesting. Almost like she really was afraid of pushing him off, even though they were nowhere near the building's edge. Quietly, she collected the empty wine bottle and glasses before carefully sliding down the ladder to her 'apartment'. 

As sure as sunrise, there was a spare bed tucked away behind he floating, central fireplace. Neatly partitioned by the fixture to allow for at least a modest semblance of privacy. The sheets were silk, as promised. The comforter plus and downy... maybe softer than anything he'd slept in all his life. Winking, she gave a little wave around the space. "Pretty hard to get lost. So make yourself at home. If you change your mind, you know the way out. I won't hold you against your will or chase you down. My one request is -- don't go spoiling my home by blabbing your mouth. That's about the only betrayal I'll shoot a man over, capisce?" 

She smiled as she said it, but she was deadly serious. Even if the light in her eyes whispered of a certain - perhaps naive - trust that she didn'tt NEED to warn him, because he wouldn't anyway. City-raised street rats had that kind of code, after all... a certain kind of Omerta that went beyond Family and Business to something shared more deeply. 

Maybe that's why she'd be waiting on the roof with breakfast, as promised, when he inevitably woke.