Post by Tobias Bohannon on Aug 19, 2016 22:57:57 GMT -8
snap... crackle... hiss...
The subtle, near inaudible sounds of a cigarette broke the immediate silence as the glowing cherry tip was sucked further along the length of the crisp, manufactured rolling paper. The whole of the cigarette drooped from its erect stature betwixt the firm, grasping lips of Tony Giovanni as he allowed it to limply hang out one side of his mouth, the tendrils of smoke lazily wafting upward from his nostrils. 'Why do I even bother... he thought as the smoke rolled up and around the sides of his face and into the frigid midnight air of his flat, let in by the presence of nearly every window being slid open. It was a nice change from the massive length of blackout panels which normally blocked out the daylight.
It was a moderate means of living located in the heart of downtown Seattle and it was the perfect balance of underworld and yuppie rolled into one corner of an avenue; The kind of place where you could bring a handful of women home a week and nobody would think anything out of the ordinary. He was stark naked, sitting cross-legged atop a plush ivory white towel at the center of the room which sported no furniture, save for an ashtray next to the towel, and a king-sized mattress fitted with a silky black sheet in one corner.
Knock-Knock... two firm strikes rapped the entry door. Bzzzzzt... someone depressed the outside call button.
'Ah. Armand.' Tony thought to himself as he rose in a single, fluid, upward motion by simply extending his legs and uncrossing them as he did so and with not so much as a second though he proceeded to the plain white door, unlocking the series of locks bolted to one side of the door-frame and opening it with all of the nonchalant posture that a century year old creature of the night could muster while shamelessly nude.
"Mister Giovanni..." addressed the man standing outside of the now-open door. Armand was a short, slightly hunched man who spoke in heavily accented words which strongly suggested a French origin and even when straight-backed likely stood only at the low end of the five-foot range. His hair was thinning, and in many parts largely inexistent, forming a comically high-arching widows peak. "Dressed well, as always." he commented and Tony returned the statement with a curl to one side of his mouth, "Please, come in..."
Without further-ado the small Frenchman made his way into the flat with a tall wardrobe trunk wheeled behind him and squeaked its way toward the middle of the room, just to the side of where the towel laid. Armand was one of the few tailors who greatly appreciated the old art of full service to his very prestigious clientele, as well as their privacy. He was a very exclusive and reputable tailor...who at no misfortune of his own was also a human. Though someone would be doing a great service to the community should they make him a permanent staple of their repertoire...but Tony didn't need another ghoul to deal with.
"I need to look presentable to the king of the world, Armand..." Tony relayed as he made his way to stand back atop the towel.
"Might I suggest something..." Armand began before being cut off by thick New York undertones - "Black, midnight black and silk lined. No stripes...or y'know...yeah, but let's do a striped shirt, somethin' that'll really contrast, red, Armand, the richest and most vibrant red you can find..." and as if in turn, the weighty French tone overrode the New York one, "...with a handsomely stipled black tie to accompany, and a classically fitted five-button vest?" as his words finished, Tony's eyes darted toward the aging Frenchman and he arched his brows in amusement "...yes, and how about a..." he began, only to be completed by Armand again, "..a pocket square, monsieur?"
Tony, in contrast to the lazy posture of his lips, which, until this point still held his cigarette displayed a vibrantly white upturned smile. "Mister Armand, I recall as to why this arrangement works so very well for the both of us" and with that, snubbed his cigarette out in the single ashtray at his feet.
Armand twitched his own lips in a soft upward motion, bobbing his head agreeably, "Let me show you some fabrics..." he muttered and unsnapped the brass clasps of the rolling wardrobe trunk.
The subtle, near inaudible sounds of a cigarette broke the immediate silence as the glowing cherry tip was sucked further along the length of the crisp, manufactured rolling paper. The whole of the cigarette drooped from its erect stature betwixt the firm, grasping lips of Tony Giovanni as he allowed it to limply hang out one side of his mouth, the tendrils of smoke lazily wafting upward from his nostrils. 'Why do I even bother... he thought as the smoke rolled up and around the sides of his face and into the frigid midnight air of his flat, let in by the presence of nearly every window being slid open. It was a nice change from the massive length of blackout panels which normally blocked out the daylight.
It was a moderate means of living located in the heart of downtown Seattle and it was the perfect balance of underworld and yuppie rolled into one corner of an avenue; The kind of place where you could bring a handful of women home a week and nobody would think anything out of the ordinary. He was stark naked, sitting cross-legged atop a plush ivory white towel at the center of the room which sported no furniture, save for an ashtray next to the towel, and a king-sized mattress fitted with a silky black sheet in one corner.
Knock-Knock... two firm strikes rapped the entry door. Bzzzzzt... someone depressed the outside call button.
'Ah. Armand.' Tony thought to himself as he rose in a single, fluid, upward motion by simply extending his legs and uncrossing them as he did so and with not so much as a second though he proceeded to the plain white door, unlocking the series of locks bolted to one side of the door-frame and opening it with all of the nonchalant posture that a century year old creature of the night could muster while shamelessly nude.
"Mister Giovanni..." addressed the man standing outside of the now-open door. Armand was a short, slightly hunched man who spoke in heavily accented words which strongly suggested a French origin and even when straight-backed likely stood only at the low end of the five-foot range. His hair was thinning, and in many parts largely inexistent, forming a comically high-arching widows peak. "Dressed well, as always." he commented and Tony returned the statement with a curl to one side of his mouth, "Please, come in..."
Without further-ado the small Frenchman made his way into the flat with a tall wardrobe trunk wheeled behind him and squeaked its way toward the middle of the room, just to the side of where the towel laid. Armand was one of the few tailors who greatly appreciated the old art of full service to his very prestigious clientele, as well as their privacy. He was a very exclusive and reputable tailor...who at no misfortune of his own was also a human. Though someone would be doing a great service to the community should they make him a permanent staple of their repertoire...but Tony didn't need another ghoul to deal with.
"I need to look presentable to the king of the world, Armand..." Tony relayed as he made his way to stand back atop the towel.
"Might I suggest something..." Armand began before being cut off by thick New York undertones - "Black, midnight black and silk lined. No stripes...or y'know...yeah, but let's do a striped shirt, somethin' that'll really contrast, red, Armand, the richest and most vibrant red you can find..." and as if in turn, the weighty French tone overrode the New York one, "...with a handsomely stipled black tie to accompany, and a classically fitted five-button vest?" as his words finished, Tony's eyes darted toward the aging Frenchman and he arched his brows in amusement "...yes, and how about a..." he began, only to be completed by Armand again, "..a pocket square, monsieur?"
Tony, in contrast to the lazy posture of his lips, which, until this point still held his cigarette displayed a vibrantly white upturned smile. "Mister Armand, I recall as to why this arrangement works so very well for the both of us" and with that, snubbed his cigarette out in the single ashtray at his feet.
Armand twitched his own lips in a soft upward motion, bobbing his head agreeably, "Let me show you some fabrics..." he muttered and unsnapped the brass clasps of the rolling wardrobe trunk.