This divine neo-gothic bookstore, opened in 1906, contains what we consider to be the ultimate definition of a stairway to heaven. Livraria Lello, Porto, Portugal.
(Source: nolollygagging)
She nodded, a small smile creeping up on her face. She didn’t even notice the menace, how could she? It’s the way everyone talks around her. She loved bonfires, or fires in general. Maybe it was it reminded her of camping?
Camping was fun.
Agatha stood up, quickly shoving on her boots and running inside to get some marshmellows she’d stored away from her group. It was a full bag, seeing as how she’d hardly get a chance to eat them anymore, so this would be a great chance to do so before they spoiled. “Do you like sweets?” she asked.
While Agatha ran to get her marshmallows, Darton took the opportunity to break the man’s other arm. He couldn’t feel it anymore, the hitman knew, but it still made him feel better.
“I do, actually. But shouldn’t we move them outside…?” Darton asked, The fire was slowly going from his eyes. “I’d hate to burn down your home.” There must be something else to burn down instead.
Agatha nodded, placing the bag of marshmellows between her teeth she grabbed one of the mens shirts by his shoulders and slowly dragged him to the stairs. She made little progress, seeing as how she was so tiny compared to the guy but she was pretty strong thankfully.
“C’mern girl,” she cooed through her teeth at the dog who quietly sat on the floor “we’re g’nna roasht marmellowsh!” Agatha chimed cheerfully “Follow me!” she said to Darton as she some how managed to make it half way down the hall with one of the bodies.
Darton hoisted the other into a fireman’s lift, following Agatha out of the building, the dog at his heels. The sound of ruined, bloody shoes tapping against the steps were nearly inaudible behind the loud thump-thump-thu-thump-thump of a body-sized deadweight sliding heavily down the stairs. “Are the others going to notice the absence of these two?” the hitman asked, nodding at the bodies.
Manic eyes turned into a glare. He wasn’t done with that yet, thank you very much, and Miss Aggie had interrupted his fun. His face filled with dark fury and his fists balled. “I wasn’t finished with that one.”
Although… A bonfire did sound fun. “…I would, actually. A bonfire sounds lovely,” he muttered, still angry.
She nodded, a small smile creeping up on her face. She didn’t even notice the menace, how could she? It’s the way everyone talks around her. She loved bonfires, or fires in general. Maybe it was it reminded her of camping?
Camping was fun.
Agatha stood up, quickly shoving on her boots and running inside to get some marshmellows she’d stored away from her group. It was a full bag, seeing as how she’d hardly get a chance to eat them anymore, so this would be a great chance to do so before they spoiled. “Do you like sweets?” she asked.
While Agatha ran to get her marshmallows, Darton took the opportunity to break the man’s other arm. He couldn’t feel it anymore, the hitman knew, but it still made him feel better.
“I do, actually. But shouldn’t we move them outside…?” Darton asked, The fire was slowly going from his eyes. “I’d hate to burn down your home.” There must be something else to burn down instead.
Calmly observing the two as Darton took his seat and Zorin commenced the questioning, Silva quickly picked up on two distinct little things. First of all, there was Max who was displaying, consciously or not, the signs of physical attraction to the other man. Then there was Darton; latching onto it, like a predator targeting the weakest in the herd.
Raoul hums rather loudly, breaking the momentary silence as Max seems to ponder the hitman’s words. “Yes, very impressive, Luke. I’m wondering however, why your online presence identifies you as…” Silva picks up one of the pieces of paper on his desk, “… ah, yes. The owner of the very city you reside in, according to those in the know in your criminal underground.”
The cyberterrorist’s eyes harden as he stares at the American. Dealing with other leaders of various criminal organisations is always a very delicate situation, where shows of subtle aggression, in order to see who backs down first, commonly prelude an inevitable gunfight. Luke has been unmasked. However, it seems true enough at this point that the American has come here to serve, rather than seek to rule. While Silva is conscious of this fact, it still sends his paranoid mind into overdrive. To rise to the top within his own circles, Darton would have had to be as ruthless as the two blonds before him are. Such men need to be tamed, and tamed fast. Glancing across briefly at his partner Zorin, Raoul considers the other facts on the table; those very few that Darton had supplied, along with those the cyberterrorist had acquired through hacking the mafia boss’s cyber network.
He clicks his tongue against his teeth. “I don’t want us to get off on a bad footing Luke. So we’re going to run the final part of this interview more openly. More honestly, yes?” Nodding ever so slightly in typical condescension, Silva doesn’t pause before asking a series of questions. The answers Raoul knows already, but he expects to hear them from the interviewee’s mouth. Any lies in this matter would seal Darton’s fate.
“Are you or are you not affiliated with Quantum? Do you possess the co-ordinates to the Island right now in that device in your pocket? What’s the going rate in the market for such information, hm? Enough to buy the life of your seventeen year old ward you keep so close back in New Jersey?”
Raoul’s finger caresses the trigger of the pistol hiding under the table. Now to see if Darton tries to bluff his way out of the facts. The blond smiles as he senses Max’s gaze on him. The German seems a little confused. Silva shakes his head, tone a little terse. “Never let yourself be enamored by supposed strength, darling. That’s how a viper ensnares the mouse before it strikes.”Darton really didn’t mean to single Zorin out. In his defense, his smile simply looked like that - very, very dangerous.
Luke. His eyes flashed to the unsettling blonde - well, the second unsettling blonde, but assuredly the more unsettling of the two unsettling blondes - and his glossy smile swiveled around to match. He really preferred his last name. “Darton” had a ring to it. It could be feared or friendly. “Luke” was simply commonplace. But, he supposed, that was an argument for another time. “My online presence is mistaken, then. I am merely the owner of my own home and its surrounding lands. The city is owned - officially - by the state, and unofficially by the mob bosses. I apologize for the confusion.” Hopefully Mr. Silva would bite, and believe the truth rather than the lie he’d discovered first. Luke was really nothing more than a hired hand, a hitman to send out when the mood struck the Bosses. Such information, though, was dear; information was power, and as Darton didn’t have much information to spare, that which he did have, he kept as insurance.
The condescension was lost on the hitman. “I assure you, sir, I have been perfectly honest with you so far, and intend to keep to that course. Much simpler to remember, and much less likely to get one shot.” The word choice was meant with double meanings; it not only showed that Darton had been around long enough to know what would get him in trouble, but also that he suspected that Silva wasn’t fool enough to let a stranger into his base unguarded. He probably had guards outside the door, waiting to shoot him as he left if Silva gave the command.
Quantum? “I’ve really no idea what Quantum is, but it does sound rather lovely. I expect it’s the Q.” Luke stifled a chuckle; Q words always got him. Lovely kuh sound, made a pretty picture in print.
The next question was a bit unnerving. The coordinates to his current position? Damn, he’d forgotten to check his phone. Idiot. The everpresent smile dimmed. “I suppose I do. Silly of me. Terribly sorry, sir.” A hand carefully dug into his jacket, removing the phone as Silva mentioned Lela.
He froze, the sparkle in his eyes dying and leaving cold stone in their place. “She has nothing to do with my business.” The phone slid across the table, two fingers pushing it carefully into Silva’s range of possession. “I did not intend to keep such information. Please excuse my ignorance.” Please keep her out of it. Darton blinked twice, glancing nervously at Zorin.
Zorin’s hands had tented — ever still his long fingers tapped together as he settled slowly back in his chair and allowed Silva to commence with speaking. Cerulean hues held upon Darton for quite an extensive amount of moments — irises peering almost wickedly in their subtle conspicuousness.
Slicing directly through the man to take a curious pondering glance upon the inside of him. Into his core, his being’s entirety.There were very few times when the urge to break Silva off and interrupt rose in his gut — however, nonetheless, he remained in observing silence. Blinking calmly, running his tongue subtly against his bottom canine teeth. A slow breath exhaled from his nose; however it wasn’t sharp enough to be particularly noticed.
Clenching and then settling his jaw, Zorin’s gaze began to gradually falter from where he had been holding it upon Luke’s face. A thoughtful cloudiness drifted over his eyes, driving into his own mentality. His mind wandered elsewhere, to the quite intriguingly detailed points the Spaniard was bringing up.
Furthermore, the possible consequences of Darton’s probable assassination began to complexly lace into his thoughts, claiming his mind in assumptions and calculations. The dire reality of the situation forced the thoughts nonetheless to remain coherent, rather than running into jumbled insanity.
His eyes unintentionally narrowed into suspicious slits and his temple halted in it’s pulsating from how lightly he had been gritting his teeth. How many followers did Darton possess, if any? Would anyone revolt if their leader did not return from his trip to the Ruin Island Unknown? Their lover, perhaps?Slowly, Max’s hands lowered until they were settled — now unseen by anyone besides himself an Silva — in his lap. Nearer to his revolver. For a brief moment did his instinctive reactions tempt him to simply grab forth the pistol and shoot there and then.
How his trigger finger began to itch; palm longing for the heavy piece of metal set so delicately within the desk before him to weigh within it.If they allowed this persona access to the island, presumed alliance, per say — to whom would this unstable character spill his secrets to? To whom would he admit the to date unadmitted?
Those whom he so desperately trusted?
To his woman, perhaps, in bed?
To a figure of higher power with whom Darton casually refused to mention?Parting his lips and inhaling lightly on the beginning of a sentence, he hushed and quickly cast his gaze over to Silva as Quantum was mentioned.
The name was nearly stolen directly from Max’s very breath, and again he tented his fingers under the desk in a rather abruptly desperate impulse to retain his composure. Though he had not personally ever been affiliated with the figure, the name was always intensely familiar when it sounded in his ears. A newer villainy figure. A name that did not exist when Zorin was in his prime — however a name that was quite important of the present day.His gaze had become very slightly taut, holding subtle suspicion underneath his faint polite smile. “Everyone whom is involved in any sort of crime — especially in crime like this, knows the name Quantum when it is mentioned.” Max said lightly, head quirking lightly to the side.
“Even if.. It’s, merely, through context.” He pressed, however grammatically emphasizing words without intention. Shrugging, Zorin cast again his beryl hues upon the other.
Was Luke truly clueless? Or was he simply playing ignorant?
Either way, it was foolish of him.The faintly composed smirk that had remained curved very lightly upon the corners of Max’s lips very swiftly faded — replaced with a look of hardened tension upon the shift in Darton’s expression.
Oh how sentiment brought out the demon inside any ridiculous soul; no matter how hardened or complex.“Sentiment, Monsieur, is not an option in this business as you should well know. It holds emotion over reason, which often drives anyone to committing a mistake they’ll eventually if not immediately regret. Driving them to failure, when otherwise life would be so much.. Easier.”
But was it easier? To be alone, do things alone?
Perhaps so.
It was far better — easier, even, to be feared than loved. The consequences of fear were far less calamitous.Casting his gaze quickly again to Luke, Max smiled coldly. He watched as this apparent mob boss’ gaze shifted to nervous desperation; turning his gaze to him in longing for comfort.
Now is not the time for heroics, Mister Darton.
Holding his gaze upon the other for a moment longer, Max nodded and exchanged glances with Silva before he leaned over and whispered something or other into the Spaniard’s ear. A few things in French, a few separate things French,
“Prendre la coup, Il est trop risqué.
Tener un guardia de destruir el dispositivo en lo bolsillo? Él tiene nuestras coordenadas.”
Until finally he ended with a whispered “He is no threat to us.”
Quiet enough to remain inconspicuous, however just loud enough that Darton would have heard it had he been listening.Turning back to Darton ad relaxing in his chair; willing his relaxed composure back to his expression, Zorin shrugged and pursed his lips.
“I see no harm in you being here. Our previous conversation intrigued me; impressed me, even with your lack of disrespect to one whom you were not aware was in possession of power that may or may not have threatened your life. Furthermore, we can use all the gunmen we get — especially in an organization such as this one. I trust you’re not shy with a firearm.”
Especially not if you’re properly reined in.“Send the next one in, if you would Mister Darton — and thank you. You are finished now.”
Not the best interview, but certainly not the worst. He hadn’t been escorted out with a broken face, nor with lead shot in any part of his body. He is not a threat to us. Decent enough. The smile returned, in full buoyancy. “Ah, lovely. I’m glad to join the operation.” The insinuation about Lela was unnerving, though. Unreadable. The black stain on the conversation.
“I assure you, I am quite the opposite of shy, sir. I’d invite you to test me, but I doubt you have too many expendable men on the island.” Or perhaps they did. Who knew? “I will. Thank you, sirs.” Darton stood, pushing the chair in before turning to leave.
(Source: itsokaywhoyouare)
From what I can tell, you can still change them back to text posts from that button up there. Just going with what I see on my page.
// ROLEPLAYERS, SPREAD THIS AROUND LIKE A FATAL DISEASE, PLEASE. YOU CAN STILL REBLOG POSTS AS TEXTS. IT’S JUST FORMATTED DIFFERENTLY SO PLEASE STOP WORRYING.
((The reblog-as-text is now turning the entire thing into a gigantic title-sized link for me, complete with bits of code instead of italics or paragraph spaces. Think I’ll go on worrying, thanks.))
((Dammit, the tumblr update got to me. Replies will be wonky for a bit until I figure out how to fix them.))
Thank you, Alice, for stitching me up when I come home like this. You’re a lovely maid, and no, I haven’t forgotten about that bonus. You can stop leaving sticky notes on my desk now.
(Source: desert-anal)
“Ahh, good evening!” A besuited and bespectacled man opened the large wooden door at the knock. “My name is Luke Darton. How can I help you today?”
“Oh.” Death seemed puzzled. “This is the Wrong…” He sighed. In his old age, though he did not actually age, he was getting a bit scatterbrained. “I am…Mirrikh. I am…Looking for Someone.”
“Ah! No matter,” Darton beamed, “Care to come in for tea, Mr. Mirrikh? I may be able to help.”
Millie made a choked noise in response, one that fully burst into unrestrained laughter. It was just too ridiculous. “Might as well pay you in unicorns while I’m at it.”
His smile fell off his face like water sliding off a window pane, and his eyes became flinty. “Pardon me?” He did not appreciate double-crosses. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.
She eventually sobered, swallowing her laughter. “Sorry, just…yeah. That’s…you wouldn’t happen to offer a student discount, would you?” Worth a shot.
“I’m afraid not.” The car slowed down ever so slightly. “Is there an issue?”
Bond smiled quickly, casually though the tension of his sturdy frame is more reserved. He tilts his head slightly to the side and says by way of greeting, “Just a quick hello then, Mr. Darton. I’m not looking to interrupt your evening, I was just wondering if you could perhaps identify a fellow in a photograph for me.”
“Ah, good evening!” Darton stood from his seat at the hotel table, leaving his teacup in its saucer and extending a hand. “Luke Darton. A pleasure.”
Quick hellos were not his specialty.
“Would you care for a cup of tea?”
