Oᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 5. 2024
"I noticed your uneasiness earlier and I don't want you to hate me or anything." Phillípe pulls out a seat for his date and she sits. He takes the one beside her, hoping for an answer, but Alessia doesn't know how to tell someone that their name is the harbinger of memories.
"Nothing is wrong with your name," she begins truthfully, pausing to gather her thoughts, "it just reminds me of something."
He stares at the side of her face, wanting to ask, 'Something bad?' Only because he knows his feelings still linger and he doesn't want to leave a negative impression, ever, around her. He bites his tongue, refraining from being an inquisitive little shite.
Surprisingly, she speaks again without him asking, "Both some great and bad memories..." She adds. He would've thought she had read his mind if she hadn't sounded so unsure.
"Alessia Moskal!" Rudolph appears out of nowhere, plopping down into the only open seat left around the table. His mouth then proceeds to move multiple kilometres per minute, "I am ecstatic about your presence here! Thank you so much for coming! My son was flabbergasted when I told him to simply wait outside for his date! Haha...!" He breathes. "How are you liking the theme? It's extravagant, isn't it?! I can't wait for the main event to begin so that the speeches can be done with and we can start waltzing!" His eyes twinkle with the reflection of the lights, almost blinding the girl's very soul. "Hope you enjoy yourself, love."
Mr. Manchester jumps up exactly three minutes later after sitting down, ready to dash into the crowd again and mingle. Alessia and Phillípe shares a look. A random woman gasps, catching their attention as she slips into their personal space.
"Oh, Rudolph! Did I hear you say Moskal? Where is he?" She beams with her thin, painted lips smiling excitedly.
He takes the lady's hand, smoothly guiding her away with a kiss to her forehand. "Madam Bong, why don't I tell you about my visit to his business over a glass of wine?" The biggest male gossiper charms away the biggest female gossiper in their world of fame and money. Her eyes light up like a galaxy.
Petro trusts Rudolph to not bring attention to Alessia, knowing he's a compulsive chatterbox. The man is doing a good job.
"So..." Alessia huffs, starting the conversation this time to avoid any personal questions Phil might have been thinking about from their previous talk. The air is still filled with Rudolph's classically jolly presence, which makes her question seem out of place, "...you want to become a cop?"
The corners of his mouth turn down, but his cheeks fill with warmth. "Who told you that?"
"Your Dad mentioned it while asking me for my services. I'm sure he won't remember he said it." She chuckles and his eyebrows twitch ever-so-slightly at the way she speaks.
It's something he has always found unique and cute about her. Her ability to say whatever she wants, however she wants, whenever she wants, with a flat face, is unlike any other. He finds himself smiling at the thought.
"May I ask why?" She asks, taking his smile as a positive answer.
"I..." He trails, then approaches the subject differently, feeling a bit irked, "Being a cop isn't bad, is it?" She shakes her head and he continues, "I just want to help people. My Dad is a businessman. He's also an odd and funny man, but he's still judged as a dirty rich fellow, just because he's successful."
What's he getting at? That's his reason for not wanting to be his father's heir? "You can't run from judgement."
"I didn't say I was. Even cops are classed as one these days. There's no more good cop, bad cop with all the racial disputes that are going on. All cops are bad." He grumbles. His last sentence is drenched in sarcasm.
"Then...?"
From looking over the sea of bashful, flashy and conversing people, to observing the cold blue of her eyes, he tells her, "My uncle was a cop. I admired him as a child."
"You're talking in past tense."
Phillípe shifts his gaze to the table. "He was doxxed, eventually killed. The money on his head was hefty. He was already made a corpse the moment his information was leaked online."
"Oh--" she begins to retreat from the topic, but he is already in too deep, and meets her gaze again with an emotion he has never beared before anyone.
"I don't want to be the immature, angry person that seeks revenge, but it sucks. He was just doing his job and got caught up with some shitty people who thinks the world revolves around them. They had my uncle assassinated."
Alessia flinches, flitting her eyes away. She frowns, unable to recall ever harming a Manchester. Even if she did, how would she remember? And, she's not the only killer out there. Still, she believes, as the most famous murderer, all the blame is going to pass to her name.
Everyone is judged.
Phil only confirms this when he says, "It might not even be the Phantom's doing, but I'd be satisfied with being the one to arrest them."
She looks him in the eyes.
"I want to catch the Phantom."
For the first time, Alessia is confused as to how she should respond and she ends up laughing. "That's...ambitious."
His liquid-y silver eyes glances at her perfect grin, then her unreadable stare.
She says, "Good luck with that." And, for some reason, it sounds like a warning.