*CASUAL CHAT }}

[jaimie lukas laird]

. A N D. N O W. M Y. B I T T E R. H A N D S.

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Well, he wasn’t dead. That was a miracle all by itself. However, he was stuck doing desk work for a good month before doing even the simplest of cases, like tailing people, and watch out’s. So far, his career wasn’t going too good. Why couldn’t he have gotten killed instead? It would be a little more bearable than this. Then again, that was probably why his boss gave him those rules in the first place. He knew his personality too well, and he obviously knew that Jay hated desk work.

“It looks like I’m shit out of luck.” He muttered to himself. That was the other thing. He had gotten off of work early today, and was now by himself. He wasn’t really one to run around the town, but he liked knowing people, and being able to talk to them. He wasn’t a loner that was for sure. His days as a loner were over as soon as his brother had overdosed. After that, his whole life turned around. Why did it have to take his brother’s death for that to happen?

He hated druggies, but to tell the truth, he had once been one himself. It was after a few deaths in the family, and his parents harsh divorce, he was going down the wrong path, towards drugs and violence. He had even coaxed his brother to join him, making a drug addict out of his own brother. His little brother!

He hadn’t told his brother about the shady drug dealers that were hanging around London, and so when his brother overdosed, not only was he in shock, but he wasn’t surprised. That in itself was the worst feeling in the world. It didn’t help that his mother joined in his pain, saying that it was his entire fault. It was his entire fault that Robbie died, and that he should be ashamed of himself.

After his brother’s death, he started cleaning himself up, and paying for rehabilitation. When he was finally over that chapter of his life, he was eighteen, and he moved here to Los Vegas, and eventually joined the Police Force, to stop things like that happening to other people and their families.

Shaking his head, Jay pulled out another cigarette and lit it up, taking a long drag from it, and letting it out slowly. The nicotine calmed his nerves, and finally, he was at ease again. Now the only thing to do would be to find someone to actually sit and chat with. It was that which he was most comfortable with. Leisurely chatting was his forte.

Entering a coffee shop, he took a seat and ordered a small section of food so that he wouldn’t be told to leave anytime soon. His eyes furrowed at the rather elevator sounding music that was playing, but he tried his best to ignore it. After all, it wasn’t like he owned the place.

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This lovely post was written for ANYONE!, and has 488! words in it. character’s name is wearing JAY EVERYDAY~~!I just wanted to say that Anyone can join, it doesn't matter who. Have fun~! This was brought to you by GABBU OF CAUTION 2.0, and PEARL JAM - BLACK!

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[marsalla de costa]

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Marsalla de Costa's day had been spent wandering through high-end boutiques, spending her brother's money in the form of a well deserved paycheck. The wives of prestigious employees in her brother's business had accompanied her, the only close friends that Marsie could claim to have, although she was still unsure if they were using her to give their husbands a chance to get ahead in the business.

Marsie was technically only permitted to associate with family members and gang members, all of whom were Italian. It was an unwritten rule, a definite requirement throughout Marsie's life, and it had always been in the back of Marsie's mind. It had always been like that, and so it would have to be from birth to death; minus the little rebellions that Marsie forced herself commit to every so often, just to attempt to prove that she was still in slight control of her life.

It was for this reason that Marsalla had left the last of her 'friends'. She was sick of babbling and gossipping in flawless Italian when she knew perfectly well that every one of the women would prefer to speak English, she was tired of being happy and optimistic, she could no longer be polite and like-able. At least, she couldn't be like that without a coffee in hand and some food in her stomach.

Despite looking weary and slightly footsore from walking in previously unbroken gladiator sandals, Marsie still managed to enter Moxie Java with a superior air that demanded attention. She looked good and she knew it, expensive perfume and accessories completing a previously bland outfit; causing a few men to turn and watch the young woman stride past them, only helping to boost her ego and confidence.

Coolly ordering a caffe latte, a biscotti, and a raspberry scone; Marsie glanced around the room, acknowledging the glances she received in a snobby manner. There was one man, however, who was not looking at her--or didn't appear to be--and Marsie watched him, almost fascinated, as she waited for her pastries and coffee. He looked vaguely familiar, and was quite cute; but Marsie was unable to place him. He was younger than she, obviously European, but evidently not Italian. Whoever the younder man was, he would likely be perfect in Marsie's plan to satiate her need for slight rebellion against the prototype her family had forced her into.

Receiving her drink and her pastries, Marsie deliberately ignored the empty tables around her and strode toward the man's table, setting her food down with confidence and taking a sip of her drink before drawing a chair and taking a seat. "I hope I'm not disturbing you, but you seem familiar. Have we met before?" Voice light and airy, with an ever-present condescending tone, Marsie did not appear to care if she was disturbing the man with whom she was sitting. "I'm Marsalla di Marco, if that aids you in placing me."

Marsie used her brother's alias when going out in public, as it was always safer than using the infamous de Costa name. With a name like di Marco, Marsie could pass as any wealthy woman, with a much smaller chance of police interest. To the cops, Marsie was simply a pawn-shop owner's well-to-do sister, causing much less suspicion throughout the public. It had always been easier this way, unless Marsie introduced herself to someone who suspected a connection between Alejandro di Marco and Carlisle de Costa.

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TAG - Jay Laird !
WORDS - 579.
NOTES - HAIII! :D
OUTFIT - here
TUNES - two birds stoned at once , chiodos.
CREDIT - template by MUNZTAR * of caution 2.0

[jaimie lukas laird]

. A N D. N O W. M Y. B I T T E R. H A N D S.

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. C R A D E L. B R O K E N. G L A S S.
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There was a little commotion around him, though by the sound of things, it was just men trying to catch the eye of a woman they found interesting. It wasn't anything new. Of course, that was his first thought, and it was wrong. The cause of the commotion wasn't just a normal woman. This woman was Marsalla 'di Marco'. Of course the police knew the last name, and it didn't exclude him, no matter how crappy of an undercover he was. The di Marco name had drawn a little suspicion, though not much. They were always proved wrong with alibis and evidence. In the end, no matter how much they wished it to be, Alejandro di Marco was cleared.

His blue eyes turned from the brightness of the window to the woman who began to sit down. She was in a fairly expensive get-up, but it would have seemed bland if she hadn't dressed it up a bit. Yes, this was Marsalla di Marco, sister to Alejandro. He gave her a light smile, a crooked one at that, with a dimple on the raised side. Of course, one could take it as impolite, but he could only produce such a smile, as no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep it level. He hoped she wouldn’t interpret it as anything other than a smile, like a smirk.

"You aren't disturbing me at all, Miss di Marco." he said. There was nothing but respect and politeness in his voice. After all, this woman hadn't given him a reason to make his voice sound any different than that. Besides, even if he hated the woman, he wouldn't talk to her any differently. He wasn't raised to hold a tone toward a lady. His mother would kill him, even if she was a whole sea away. She had ears like a hawk, and for some reason, he doubted that she’d let him get away with it. Somehow, his mother knew everything, and it didn’t help that they were on bad terms.

"We may have met. For the record, my name is Jaimie. Just call me Jay though, if it so suits you." he said. "I'll buy your next drink, if you'll allow me." he said. He reached for a moment to his cigarettes before one, remembering that he wasn't supposed to smoke in here, and two, remembering that there was someone else there, who was assumed to be a non-smoker, and he wouldn't subject anyone to second-hand smoke without their consent. It was just as bad as what he did to his poor brother, though it didn’t have that quick of a consequence.

He placed his hand back around his coffee cup that was starting to grow cold. Due to this, he quickly downed it, and allowed the waitress to take it away, refusing to get anything else. Sitting here with Marsalla, he wouldn’t be kicked out of the Java just quite yet.

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This lovely post was written for MARSALLA!, and has 491! words in it. Jay name is wearing JAY EVERYDAY~~!I just wanted to say that Thanks for joining~! This was brought to you by GABBU OF CAUTION 2.0, and PEARL JAM - BLACK!

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[marsalla de costa]

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Marsalla was unsure whether this Jamie--or Jay, really--was smiling crookedly or smirking at her. She tilted her head to one side for a moment, trying to distinguish the facial expression, losing herself for a moment until Jay's next words convinced her to resurface.

"I'll buy your next drink, if you'll allow me."

"A gentleman." The simple statement betrayed Marsie's surprise at the comment. How exciting, especially with the detection of a British accent in the midst. Marsalla raised her eyebrows at the classic offer, a gesture almost unheard of from men in this century, even when graced by the presence of a beautiful woman. The offer only seemed to be used on television and in movies, and Marsie blamed the feminist movement. She decided to risk believing that the smirk was indeed a twisted version of a smile; returning it with a radiant and well rehearsed version of her own. The kind she used in order to get what she wanted.

What a shame that she didn't know what that was quite yet. As Marsie took a sip from her latte, she watched Jamie reach for something within his jacket pocket, and she habitually tensed up; causally reaching for her purse, within which she kept a gun. As he hesitated, and withdrew his hand--empty and weaponless--she set her purse back on the floor, hoping that the brief moment had passed by unnoticed. She kept her phone from the bag as an excuse for quickly reaching into it, offering a tight smile.

Shit. If she had pulled out the weapon, she would have totally given herself away to a complete stranger and the few other guests within the cafe. She had to be more careful, and she had to pry in order to solve this mystery. Absently watching the screen of her phone, Marsie tried to guess at the possibilities but was at loss to find a logical answer.

Perhaps the two had met on business? Carlisle had asked Marsie to aid in convincing countless amounts of men over the years. It was unlikely that she would be able to remember the unremarkable background ones, those who were of lesser importance. She frowned, the slight crease between her brows revealing the trouble she had in placing him. She was unable to let go of this belief, taking a sip of her quickly cooling latte before insisting once more. "Jay, please do clarify this for me: you say that we may have met before, and do not try to tell me that I mistook that look in your eyes for something other than recognition. I am sure that you know who I am. Did we by any chance meet on business?"

It was a harmless question, really. After all, it was only Marsie asking it; and she seemed innocent enough by most standards. Only those involved with the mob would know what she was hinting at, and perhaps the police, but Marsie was unsure of the degree of information they knew. Marsalla did admittedly rely on the assumption that he was not involved in law enforcement, but she was also somewhat confident that if he slipped up during a lie, she would know it. The coded question was not exactly the definition of cryptic, but if Jay knew who she was, then this would give him an opportunity to give her a response to her question.

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TAG - Jay Laird !
WORDS - 568.
NOTES - t'was the least i could do. i seriously needed to use some more marsie. :)
OUTFIT - here
TUNES - two birds stoned at once , chiodos.
CREDIT - template by MUNZTAR * of caution 2.0