Borgias

who: max and ari
where: his place
when: late afternoon

Arienne wasn't overwhelmingly pleased. She'd had a great day at school, especially with the set up she'd done with Nathaniel. That was all fabulous. No, her day had gone badly when she'd gotten home from school, and her parents had informed her of yet another suitor they wanted to try and set her up with. This time it was some bank manager uptown, who was apparently ridiculously wealthy, and who would be nice to have in their family's pocket. She'd been told about that, and she'd promptly left the house to seek out her brother. Which had brought her to his townhouse. She'd gone in through the back entrance, something she usually did. She had a key, and let herself in, hoping he was in or would come back soon. Heading into the den area she dropped herself down into one of the chairs there, curling up a little on it as she rested her head down on her crossed arms, which rested on the armrest. She sighed, not overjoyed with the situation at all.

Max was in, on the first floor even but in the kitchen sharpening knives before putting them away. Usually he cleaned the knives in his basement but it was such a nice day out that he wanted to look outside while he worked. He heard the door open and didn't move. Only Ari came through the back door and let herself in like she owned the place. In a sort of roundabout way she did. She didn't call out and Max wondered what bad news had happened and he figured it was probably something to do with their wonderfully devoted parents. He paused in his cleaning to turn the kettle on and continued cleaning up until it boiled. He could be a good brother and he smiled a little to himself as he poured the pot of tea onto a tray (why the hell did he have a tea service anyway?) and took it into the den.

His little sister was curled up in a chair looking pensive and he set the tray on the table in front of her before crossing the room to flick on the radio. "Mystery hour is on," he said, turning the volume low enough that they could still listen but have a conversation if they wanted to.

Arienne reached out to get tea and was internally grateful for his just doing that for her, without her having to ask. "Thank you." she said, sitting back again with the teacup clasped between both hands. She frowned at a middle distance for a long moment, then turned her eyes on Max. "I've been informed I've another 'candidate' to see." she told him. Max knew how she felt about the entire delusion their parents were under that they were going to arrange a marriage for her.

Max was pleased that he had the comfort thing down with his sister and he reached down to ruffle her hair. "Who is it this time?" he asked neutrally and sat on one of the arm rests. If he could, he'd destroy them, all those men who wanted to marry his baby sister and his parents too while he was at it but he couldn't and it as frustrating that the extent of what he could do for Arienne was just 'be there'. Although there was the rare time where he could intimidate the son of a bitch but it was getting more and more difficult to do so.

"Some banker, apparently. I've been told he's quite wealthy, but I'm also under the impression he's quite a bit my senior." she said, putting it delicately that the man had grey hair. "I'm growing weary of this song and dance." she said, sighing. She took a drink of her tea, and righted the bracelet he'd given her on her wrist. She never took it off. "I do not wish to marry this man any more than the others, and those in his particular age range are always..." she paused, rolling her eyes slightly. "They're quite free with their hands on approach." They liked to cop feels is what.

"Do you want me to give you a knife?" he asked her and doing what he thought was a downright admirable job of keeping himself in check with that statement.

Arienne looked a bit surprised at the notion, and she sat up straighter. "What sort of a knife? And I do not know how to use one..." she said, not discounting the suggestion, but she wanted him to have all of the correct information. She trusted his judgment on the matter, after all, and therefore was going to go with whatever he might suggest. She might feel better with a knife, though also understood if she ever actually hurt one of her suitors it would not bode well.

"I think you'll be fine with a switchblade," Max said. He knew well enough in his haze of anger that Arienne would be fine with just flashing it. Enough people got away with just having a weapon and never needing to use one. Max wasn't one to be dissuaded but Max was one of a kind after all. "You don't need anything extreme." Another ruffle of her hair and he got up and went over to the display case full of trinkets to make him look normal. He pulled out a silver blade, the handle designed in intricate swirls of ivy and vines. He closed it and brought it over to her for her to take a look at. "This opens it -- from this side. Be careful," he warned and handed it over.

Arienne set aside her tea, and took the offered switchblade, looking it over carefully before she opened it as he instructed. She watched the blade pop, one second it was just a handle, the next a weapon. There was a soft little smile that touched her lips at it, as if she were viewing something much fluffier than the reality. Then she looked up at her brother again. "And all I will need is to show it, should I require it?" she asked. It was certainly something she liked. It had an elegance to it that she hadn't expected. In fact, it could be said she was quite fond of it, and that showed.

"Pretty much. What you can learn to do is just take it out, real subtle? And press it in just the right spot and tell him to fuck off and no one around you will be any the wiser. But you need to be comfortable with the blade first. You make mistakes when you're nervous about cutting yourself." The grateful look on her face eased his anger and he even smiled down at her as she looked over the blade. "I'm sorry, Arienne," he said and the genuine note in his voice was something that rarely had been heard in it, let alone an apology to her.

Comfortable with it. Right. She'd need to keep that in mind, learn to carry it on her person where she could get to it, and practice not slicing her palm in two. She could do that. At the apology, she looked up, genuinely surprised. "For what?" she asked. "You've done nothing wrong. This will help me feel safer." she added, indicating the blade.

"Because if I wasn't who I was, then you wouldn't be in this position. Our parents would be dead and I'd make sure you were happy." It was the only time Max had ever spoken of the situation between their parents and him. The only time he'd ever acknowledged that he was 'wrong' and that's why things were the way they were with Arienne.

And... it was not the time to stay on that subject.

"The blade's nice enough that you can carry it around in your purse and if you drop it or something, no one will immedietly notice you're carrying a weapon. You also don't even have to open it if you're pressing it against someone. Even though most people haven't dealt with a switchblade, enough movies and enough articles in the Echo usually will make the connection in mind that if you're pressing that against them, flicking it open means you'll cut arteries and they'll die in a terrible, bloody mess." He grinned in glee at the mental image. "Their faces are quite entertaining when they realize that."

"I'll be happy some day, Maximilieno." she said, voice light. "I wouldn't have you any other way." she said, and she did mean that. "You've no apology to give me, you're my only true council." She gave him a soft smile. Then she let the subject rest as well, back to listening to what he said. When he grinned at her, she returned the expression. "How much damage can it do?" she asked. "Unembellished, that is."

Being called her only true council twisted his heart in such a way that made him want to go over and hug her but he didn't. It was just this strange, fleeting feeling that he liked. "Well, anything can do damage if you hit the right spot. Neck, stab through the eye or the ear or..." he'd go on but he caught himself before he made his sister ill. "Size of that blade... Stab through the hand or through a shoulder would cause issues but nothing mortal. Through the gut is a little more iffy because of all the organs. Keep it sharp enough and with a quick flick of your wrist," he demonstrated with his own wrist flicking motion. "You can do a long, nasty cut on the closest body part. You go into the wrong part of town -- which you never will, by the way, and if I catch you, I'm locking you in your room -- you'll see guys with scars on their face." He pointed to her blade. "Call that your branding iron."

Arienne copied the flicking motion, testing it out a few times, before she nodded. "What will incapacitate someone fastest?" she asked. "In case I need to get away from someone?" She had no doubt he would know, therefore she was asking. "Also, if I never see the wrong part of town, I'll be woefully uneducated on their practices, and will have holes in my education I shall require further down the road." she protested, though it was with a smile.

"The gut," Max said, very assured in that. "People who are inexperianced make big gestures. You'll see it coming even if you aren't expecting it. The gut will automatically have them doubled over, you can do it when you're standing close to them. Cause as much damage as possible, even if the wound isn't in a fatal place. Twist it, pull." He demonstrated in the air, stabbing the invisible opponent, twisting his wrist and jerking upwards. "I think it'll come to you instinctively. You're not one for grand overtures." His sister was sneaky and he leaned forward to tap her nose, much like he would do when she was a little girl. "Some things are better read about, Bella."

Again, Arienne copied the motion, taking the lesson seriously. Twist, pull. Twist, pull. Then she started from the begining, flicking the blade, then jabbing, twisting and pulling in one smooth motion. When he tapped her nose, she smiled at that. "I just want to know who it is I'm up against." she said. "Could you not teach me some?" she asked. "I will need to know. I'm serious when I say I want to know all the pieces on the board, I want to know every aspect of the game." Because she viewed it as such--always had.

He nodded in approval as she practiced and made sure to stay well out of the way of that flashing blade. "I'm not taking you down to the slums, Arienne, if that's what you're asking." Nope, absolutely not. Not that there was a clear definition in the city as to what were the slums and where exactly they started. "You're not going to be going into underground fighting, and if you are, I really advise against it." It wasn't that he was blowing her off, he didn't do that, he was just trying to figure out why she wanted to go down there. The game, yes, but he wasn't sure what that would accomplish except drawing undue attention.

"I just want a proper view. A cross section, if you were." Arienne said. "Perhaps something could be arranged in a purely observational manner." she suggested, not sure what he might come up with for that, but she was sure he could get creative. "It'll give me something to concentrate on whilst on my 'date'." she added, sliding the blade back home again.

The first thing to come to mind with observation was his torture sessions in the basement but that wasn't the kind of cross section she wanted to see (or only something she thought she wanted to see). "I could try figure something out, I guess," he relented a bit.

She nodded. "I'll leave that to you. When you figure something out, let me know." she said, not putting anything like a timeframe on it. She didn't want to rush him. "Thank you." she added. "I would greatly appreciate that." she said honestly. "I just am under the impression that there's an entire subset to this city that I don't know near enough about, and I need to. I'm not in a position on my own to find out."

"No, you aren't," he agreed. He may be crazy, but he knew what was safe for Arienne and what wasn't. "You could say that that particular subset are the pawns on the chessboard. It doesn't take much to get them to do your bidding, nor does it take much to keep them on your side. They have little to bargain with so once you grab that? Anyone else who tries to get hold can try, but it's incredibly difficult. Peons." He liked that word and he repeated it silently. Peons. "In our part of the world, we don't have to worry about them getting uppity. With the Syndicate? They're roaches. Anyone can just come in and take charge. It's pretty interesting but they have no honor. Undignified. They multiply like cockroaches." Caused so many problems.

"Tell me about the Syndicate." Arienne requested, sitting back again, even if she held the knife he'd given her between her hands, getting used to the weight of it. He had her rapt attention, and she'd much rather talk about that than her potential marriage problems. She didn't know what she would do if she ever truly got told she needed to marry though. Possibly arrange an 'accident'. She thought her brother would help her with that particular task. Still, she merely hoped it didn't come to pass.

Max looked down at his sister for a moment before sitting down in his own chair, looking thoughtful. He understood the structure and the players in the game. How the O'Malleys had disbanded and scattered, killing each other off or facing punishments.

"When it comes down to it, they're thugs who've gotten too big for their britches," he said. "There really isn't a sense to their make-up. I guess you could say they're made up of smaller mafias that mutually benefit one another. A way for them to survive when they probably wouldn't have. For example, one of the syndicate 'partners' is this Chinatown gang. They deal in drugs, mostly, and human trafficking to an extent and they usually keep it among themselves but with the drugs, through the syndicate, they're able to have a farther reach. The Syndicate is big on that by the way. Trafficking people. Prostitution, slavery. I don't know if that's a russian thing or chinese thing, but that's what they do. You had the O'Malleys but they were taken down. The stories differ between who you talk to but a lot of it had to do with police corruption. They were a big family in the Irish district and probably could've been a force to be reckoned with on their own if this were a place like Boston. Them being Irish though is what kept them from being one of us, in the end. Irish Catholics. Business owners. Never ones for politics no matter how hard they tried. And they tried. If this were any other place, they probably could've been one of us. Then there's a small group of actual Konoviches. They're kind of the ones in charge but it's tenous, I think. Again, it depends on who in their organization you're talking to. There's not a lot of them and even though they're indiscriminate, I'd say their hold on everything isn't very good at best. For awhile there, I had a feeling that the O'Malley's might actually push to the top. They could have, I think. That's the thing about the syndicate. There really isn't any stability in there. It's like going to a boxing match. Not an official one, but one of those back alley ones where everyone is charged and ready to start throwing punches at the first sign that the fight is going to get out of control."

"What they mostly deal in is with the police. You have to if you're going to get away with the business that you run. So it takes awhile for our people higher up to deal the heavy blows to them. Which is where me and my boys come in. It's a lot harder to pick out who is a syndicate and whose one of us in the force these days. The Syndicate doesn't discriminate. We do. And look who controls this city."

Arienne listened, taking in all he was telling her. "So it's smaller factions, and they aren't so closely tied?" she checked. "What about family? Does it mean the same to them as it does to us?" she asked. "What happened with the O'Malley's assets once things went belly up for them?" she asked, thinking everything through.

"That's what it seems like. If they didn't band together in some way, they'd have no hope in succeeding against the families in any way. I think family depends on who it is. I don't know how the Chinks work in their hovels. They all look alike." And he was loathe to admit that they had no idea how many Lotus members there were. "I imagine that the O'Malley's were close knit, being Irish. They were tough to crack." And there was a slight note of admiration there too. They were a tough brood of bastards and Max could recognize that from one killer to the next. "I find that the Russians tend to be squealers, but that just could be because I'm so good at what I do."

As for her second question. "Assets? That, I don't know. Everything in that happened so fast, I honestly don't know if we had any hand in killing them off or if it was the Syndicate. One day things were good. The next? Babylon was in flames and there were six bodies found that we later confirmed to be O'Malley agents. There's some O'Malley's still left. One's working at a bar and this little blonde girl I'm sure you've seen, Eileen? Aire? She's still around. So if they haven't been picked clean, then it's probably gone to them."

"Babylon?" Arienne asked, not entirely sure what that was. But she was nodding to everything else. "Interesting." she said, getting a sort of idea of the structure of things. She wondered where exactly Nathaniel fit into it. She'd have to find out, though wasn't sure if she would merely ask him, or find out on her own. They generally had other things to discuss, that she deemed more important currently.

"It was... a brothel of sorts," Max said, wondering if he should be grateful that Arienne hadn't known the name. It had surprised him a little. That kind of gossip seemed like something teenagers might latch onto, but then, he'd never been in a school environment. "It used to be neutral territory before it's owner was allegedly murdered and taken over by the Syndicate, but from what I understand, it was an O'Malley power play. They were the ones in charge after the usurping. Place definitely went down hill after that though. Babylon was the lynch pin. That apparently was the catalyst for the end of them." Fidgeting, Max pulled out his silver dollar from his pocket and began rolling it through his fingers. The sitting still was getting to him and he didn't want to start jiggling his leg. He narrowed his eyes slightly as he regard Arienne and the sparse response she gave. "What's going on in your head?"

"Just working out the differences in the power structure between our organization and theirs." She explained, not having a problem sharing that. "Clearly they'd each have strengths and weaknesses, for instance because they aren't family based, bright up and comers would have a much easier chance to get involved, which means they may actually have an advantage on that score, because everyone knows we are family based. So, if I was a young entrepreneur and I wanted in on the action, I would have only the Syndicate to really apply to, as I would not be able to get a foot in the door in the DiGiovanni clan unless I married in. Which is a step that many won't be willing to pursue and fulfill, not to mention it could be impossible, depending. So we could be missing out on the best and brightest because we're so insular. On the other hand, because we are our families are generally raised in the business and know their trade very well even at a young age. There's a trade off, so far as I can see. I'm just looking for holes."

That was Arienne. She thought over all these things, picked them apart for study. She was the more cerebral of the the two of them after all and she had her dreams of taking over. This was the type of things she should think about if that's what she was going to do so. Him? This was the only life he knew and as much as he hated to admit, it was the life that allowed him to exercise his urges in relative safety. As safe as a killer could be anyway. "Our family has the advantage that we know everything about our people. There's no one with secret histories. The dregs can be weeded out, the inferior exterminated or cast aside without a problem." Or their uses harnessed. "It's kept relatively pure. On the other hand, We might eventually die out or the ones in control might turn out mad." Like the Walkers and their years of inbreeding. "The Syndicate has the advantage of bringing in new blood, but they have the disadvantage of being more easily infiltrated. However I will tell you that since the Syndicate started playing more these past few years, we have had people try to wriggle their way in higher." He was unable to judge whether or not they were fit, but there'd been stirrings in the bottom of those trying to move up.

"It would be rather silly of us not to, but by that same token, I'm sure the Syndicate has spent time either trying to infiltrate, or alternately turn loyalties." Arienne said thoughtfully, still turning the knife over and over in her hands as she considered it all. "And considering there are those we consider 'disposable', then it could be rather more simple than we would like to think." She wasn't above shining a hard light on the organization--it was the only true way to strengthen it in the end. You didn't grow by turning a blind eye to the flaws. you sought them out and figured out how to plug the leaks or to strengthen what was there. "The worst thing that can occur at this point with our parents in control is the folly of overconfidence."

"You'd be surprised on how many know better," Max said although there was no note of pride in his voice despite him being a very big reason of that. Getting up he walked to the window, overlooking the street, hands shoved in his pockets as he observed the world outside. "There was a play, I can't remember what, that brought up an interesting idea that I haven't given much thought to. Through fear, your followers will fight for you. With love, they shall march into hell with smiles on their faces. Love and fear are subjective. An abused child still loves its parent, does it not?" He lifted a hand to tug the curtains back over the window and turned back to look at his little sister. "Our parents are still useful. They at least have others to keep them in check. What we have to worry about is the whole lot of them going at the same time. The good thing about the Syndicate is that they're enough of an annoyance to keep them on their toes, I guess."

Arienne listened to him, but shook her head slightly. "I don't have faith in that. I think they've gotten somewhat complacent, overconfident. Not to the degree that people will be able to topple them easily, but to the point where I don't believe they even consider the Syndicate a real threat. I don't hold with such ideas. An enemy is an enemy." She sat back a little, twirling the blade back and forth between her fingers thoughtfully. "And an abused child only loves their parent for so long. They do not remain a child, after all. Eventually they grow up and recognize something is wrong. And that love can turn on a dime to hate. It's the same with you." she said, addressing his part specifically. "You keep people in line, you do that through fear which is well founded. But there's only so far you can push fear. Eventually people break, or, worse, come to a point where they realize they've nothing to lose. And while you can take care of that problem when it arises, they can do a whole lot of damage before that event. There's nothing more dangerous in the world as an individual with nothing to lose. There are no buttons to push, no appeals that will matter." she said. Laying her gaze on him she smiled. "I want to work to eradicate that end of it. I want you with me, brother dear. You're not just a dirty secret to be lurking in the shadows, even if that's how you've been treated."

Had it been anyone else, Max would've done something rash. Then again, had it been anyone else, he wouldn't be having this conversation so either way, the point was moot. Still, his sister had prodded something sore and unhealed inside that he didn't care to acknowledge and he turned his head slightly to look at her. "I'm special," he said, and the smile he gave her was cold as he turned fully away from the window and away from the rays of light. "The ones with nothing to lose are my favorite," he moved on, as if speaking of a favorite drink and not a victim. At her final statement, he flicked his eyes back up to her, slightly narrowed in study. He knew how his little sister felt about things, but she'd never really stated it in such a rallying sort of way.

No, he did not like how he'd been treated. At least, when he was younger he didn't. He'd found a niche though that allowed him to kill almost completely without fear of repercussion. He had a very nice place to live, he had people -- many people -- he was in charge of -- and he knew all their secrets. He knew everything. There was this very inconvenient, annoying feeling that came up when he thought about his parents, how once they'd spoiled him and always wanted to spend time with him to telling the world that he was dead. He'd been kept hidden away for years until they were certain no one would recognize him. Until he looked like any other member of the DiGiovanni clan, the high cheek bones and the piercing blue eyes easily shadowed by the fedora he wore.

He looked at Arienne, his sister who, for a time he was jealous of. Jealous that she got to remain where she was and he sent away but it faded over time until they were this strange, macabre ying and yang of destruction just waiting to be unleashed. "I kill people who say what you're saying, bella," he told her, locking eyes with her, his voice cold and empty so she understood the gravity of the position he was put in at that moment. He didn't move but he was standing across the little coffee table from her, watching her, unmoving, like a coiled snake. He was never like that with her before, but she needed to understand exactly what she was saying and this was her option to change her mind or...

Well, Max didn't know. He was just watching and waiting.

Arienne looked at her brother, and weighed the possibility that he may kill her. She was holding the knife he'd just given her, and the delicate bracelet he'd given her adorned her wrist, as it always did. She merely kept up eye contact with him, and considered. "You're not going to." she said, eventually, after almost a full three minutes of silence. "And I'll tell you why." She set the knife aside, and walked up to her brother, reaching up to straighten his collar. "Our parents don't look at you and see potential. I do. You're more intelligent than they imagine, and you can play with the rest of the class these days. They view you like you were when you were young, when you needed to be pulled from school, but you didn't stop evolving from that point, now did you?" she asked rhetorically. "I don't believe you need to be some monster in the shadows, lurking about and killing off the stragglers. I think we have people for that, if it comes down to it. I think you're kept in just as much of a gilded cage as I am, it's just got different sets of bars. I don't believe that's where you belong, fratello caro." She watched his eyes, and clasped her hands behind her back, a gesture that suggested that she trusted him not to harm her.

"Nothing that remains unchanged can evolve. I believe our family business requires it. We need to move forward, to challenge our own thinking on things. It'll stagnate and crumble if it doesn't happen. Now, those currently in charge, they're unable to think outside that box. They do things a certain way, and certainly it's worked in the past, but that does not mean it will continue to work in the future. We could grow, we could change, we could take this city by storm--if we can stand a little growing pains." She still didn't let her gaze stray. "I want you with me on this." she told him. "And it won't be from the shadows. They may have put you there but I plan to take you back out."

No, Max wasn't going to kill her. Even if he were ordered to do so, he wouldn't and he took a step forward to place a hand on her shoulder, leaning down to meet her eyes better. "I do enjoy killing, Arienne," he said quietly, his expression unreadable as he processed everything she said. Was he kept in his own cage? In a way he was. It was certainly different from hers, with different rules and regulations. "There's a hunger inside that I keep at bay killing off those 'stragglers'. That little voice inside stays quiet as long as theirs a steady stream and I very much enjoy it. To have someone's life in my hands. To have them fear when they know that I've come around. That they may very well be meeting their end at my hands in that moment. It's fascinating to see what they do. And I like it." He wasn't sure if his sister understood that or was even able to understand that. On a scholarly level, yes, she could, but their parents hadn't twisted him into this. He was born this way. Born with something wrong inside his head that made him want to kill. "I don't doubt you, piccola sorella, but you are also seventeen. You are still young. If this is something you're going to do, you have to wait." He lifted his hand and stroked her hair for a moment before pulling back, a brief moment of brotherly affection. "There are other families we have to deal with as well." He'd stand beside her, would go down with her if that's what ended up happening, but surely she wasn't thinking that she'd be taking things on like this now.

"You misunderstand." she told him. "I know you do." she assured him, and again, she didn't let her eyes waver from his, her voice didn't tremble in the slightest. She was well aware, and she wanted him to know that. "And I know you wouldn't want to give that up. But I don't want you to be the scary thing in the dark. I want you to be the terrifying figure right out there in the open. I want to alter what people view about you, and yet know in the back of their minds that at any given moment, you could be let off the leash. I don't want people wondering where you're lurking, I want them to know exactly where you are, to see you, to interact with you. Because they know. I know they know. But no one would be able to say anything about it. They wouldn't be able to come up with evidence against you. Not if we do things carefully, and I've got confidence in my ability to do that." She gave him a smile when he touched her hair. "I'm aware there are others to consider, and that my current age will be a factor. But I don't want to wait until it's feasible, I want to start things into swing now. It won't come to fruition until later, of course, but I don't think it's required to sit and wait forever. Besides. altering people's minds, changing things--that takes time. I'm willing to put it in, but if I want it to happen in anything resembling a timely fashion, I can't sit it out and wait until later." She watched him, considering. "Tell me more about what you go through with it all." she requested, her tone indicating that if he wished to back out of that, she wasn't going to be upset, but that she did want to know.

The concept of being out in the open and people knowing who he was went against everything that had been drilled in his head for fifteen years that Max was having a difficult time understanding that. It wasn't like he hadn't entertained the idea. In a world where there weren't consequences, he could just be who he wanted to be. Feared and respected, even valued? He was valued already though. Right? Max moved away from Arienne to sit on the sofa and lean back as he took that all in. Everyone would know but wouldn't be able to touch him. He remembered Sunday school and how being proud was sinful. Not that he believed in that sort of thing, nor did he particularly care, it just crossed his mind. "Sow the seeds," he finally said, still trying to wrap his mind around the 'out in the open' concept. It just... it just seemed so impossible.

She walked over to sit on the coffee table in front of him, letting him take the time to sink things in. After all, it was a rather ratical concept, differing entirely from what had been done up til now. "Yes." she confirmed for him, Sowing the seeds. That's what she wanted to be working at. "Now for you--I need to know what you go through, Maximilieno. I need to know what your strengths are, your limits, what happens with this entire thing. Then I can orchestrate a lifestyle for you that will allow for what I'm talking about. So it'll work for the both of us."

His knee was jiggling, bouncing steadily up and down. Not obvious at first, it came off more like a nervous tic than just Max's need to keep moving. He cracked his knuckles one by one for something to do with his hands, each joint, then his wrists. Protocol was telling him that he wasn't meant to be doing this. That this could be considered treason, since they were talking about upturning the family and he was the one who put the end to all of that. "It's all still there. The table manners, the conversation flow charting. I've become very good at being who I need to be in situations. The nervous friend, the grieving boyfriend, the scoundrel. I had to. It was the only way I knew how to express the emotions. I was very good at imitating father. Majority of the time no one saw anything the matter. Before everything changed, I was slipping up a little. I think maybe it was because I was getting older. Understanding things more. Realizing that there was something wrong. Dinner with our parents is less about me playing a part and more about making sure their week is ruined." His lips twitched at that. It was always fun to go over for dinner, watch their parents try to pretend everything was normal when they could barely touch their food because there was a wolf at their table.

"I haven't interacted with large groups of people in years. Not like the balls or the dinners that I should've gone to. First I was too young, and then after that it didn't matter. I've never actually been in society. I know what to do, but I guess you could say I've never had my 'debut'." There was a tease there, since boys didn't have debuts, but that's how it was. He'd been eleven. "I think as long as someone doesn't look too hard, they won't see anything is wrong. There are some people like that. I guess there's just something 'off' about me that the majority of people don't pick up. I'd say those who are either touched themselves or have dealt with it recognize it." He hadn't really been looking straight at his sister while he explained, occupied with his knuckles and some point in the air but then he did. "I don't just work for our family, Ar. Walkers, Giacomo, Bartelucci? I'm their boy too. If someone figures out what you're trying to do..." He trailed off and looked away. He wouldn't kill her. The situation would be fairly unprecedented but it would be bad.

Arienne knew that he did that, came over to ruin their parent's night. She enjoyed watching the play, in truth. She invited him by sometimes just for that purpose. Still, she listened, taking everything in. "I know." she said, nodding a little. "I know, you enforce for everyone. But that doesn't mean you have to hide. Or, at least, I don't believe it does." She drew in a breath and let it out slowly as she thought things over. "How often is it you feel the urges you do?" she asked, still just working in information she didn't have previously. "How long before your behavior alters because of a lack of expelling your particular demons?"

"I'm saying it because they could try hurt you," he reminded her. She was smart, he just wanted her to fully understand what could happen. He was really the only one standing between the lower rungs and the heads of the family. His orders came from the top, no younger second cousins telling him what to do. "I'd stop it, but you need to be fully aware that it's more than just us. I'd worry most about the Giacomos and Barteluccis." He stopped cracking his joints and looked at his hands. For the work that they did, they were well cared for. Nails trimmed, free of any blood or gore. "Depends," he said, quieter. "It hasn't happened in awhile. They've gotten good at keeping me busy. I was having a chat with a guy in concern to a business issue. Just a chat. No violence. Well, I threw apples at him and poked his ribs after he'd been beaten up and there was a definite thrill so I wonder if maybe different stimulation -- like what you're talking about with me being in the open -- might help that. If how much of my 'demonic side' is curable. To an extent. A particularly good kill, a real message? Can hold me over for quite some time. It's abated some as I've gotten older too. When I was your age, I used to go around looking for homeless kids to pick apart. I stopped it after the police were forced to do something -- apparantly one of them was a runaway -- so I try to put that energy into being creative when I'm given my order. It's an itch though. Like the guy you have to have dinner with? Instead of giving him a good talking to or just punching him which is what I'm told is a normal reaction, I want to carve out his testicles and show them to him." He'd never been asked to explain his urgings. The families adapted as his moods shifted and left him to it for the most part and he suddenly felt like he should put together some kind of presentation to explain the workings of his mind even though he wasn't fully sure of it. "It's... not a lot, I know."

She smiled. "But I'm just a sweet and innocent teenager." she assured him, batting her eyelashes. "No one will see me coming, brother. Trust in me." she requested, reaching out to put her hand over his for a moment. "I know far more than people give me credit for, and I've been thinking about this for a long time. I won't do anything rash, either. I'll make every move very carefully, knowing what other actions it will trip. It'll be alright."

Then she refocused on the rest. "Don't worry about that." she said at his last statement. "That's not my concern. My concern also isn't with 'curing' you. I'm aware what you're capable of and what you want to do isn't considered normal, and if we were nobodies living on the other side of the tracks that would be an issue, but we are not. What I want is to give you new outlets, and when we really need you to do something creative, you'll be allowed to do that. It isn't as if there's ever going to come a time where we won't require a few people to disappear. I just want to know what time scale I'm working on, and what might keep you busy in fashions that aren't you poking bruises. I believe you're above that, brother, even if no one else does. I think when you were a child, you weren't, but you're hardly a child anymore and I believe it's time you were treated like an adult, not a rabid dog."

Max bared his teeth theatrically and leaned his head back a little with a slight nod. No, he was certainly not the same boy he was in the woods that day staring at his teacher's blood and brains splattered over him, curious in the act of taking his first human life. He'd taken countless since then, each one he considered better than the last. New ways of prolonging suffering and pain, of dulling it, of keeping a victim alive for hours on end. The Inquisition would be proud. "I think you have plenty of time," he said. "I have enough self control that I can make arrangements if it becomes an issue. Who knows. Maybe the spotlight is exactly what I need."

Arienne stood up then walked behind the couch, behind him and she drifted her fingers through his hair lightly, before she leaned down to rest her arms on the back of the couch as she regarded him. "I think it's worth finding out." she told him. "Why don't you attend the ball?" she suggested. "You could take me, even. I'm sure there are people there who are going to be eying me up as a potential bride, even if I'd rather not entertain any of them, but either way, we could attend. It's a high social function, it supports our boys in blue, which of course we fully want to see. If anything happens, I'd be there to help you through it, and if it doesn't work we can merely leave--something that would be fine considering it isn't a function specifically being thrown by our family."

"Won't mother and father love that," he grinned up at her as he tilted his head back to follow her progress. "A test run?"

"Well, no one's asking them." Ari said, smiling at him a little impishly. "But yes. Exactly that. A test run." she agreed. "It'll test the waters, so to speak." It would allow them both to see where he was at, socially for one. What he did remember, what he didn't, if he could play his role well all night, if things made him angry, or if he did well. She was guessing that he'd do fine, that he'd been underestimated for years now.

"No one would know me. I'd be anonymous. Falconeri is just a made up last name. New name on the block." He wondered what kind of trouble he'd get into from it and couldn't for the life of him think what would happen. They couldn't kill him. They could scold? "Sounds fun. Do you want to come with me then?" He grinned back at her. If he was going to go, it was going to be with her. He'd rather speak to his mother than go by himself, even if that might be the wiser move in the long run.

She nodded firmly. "I do." she said. She didn't want to miss his interactions, she didn't want to leave him there by himself. So, she'd just go with. "And yes, you'll just be a new face on the block. Some pretty boy with a nice smile and clearly good breeding, and it'll be fine. No one will need to ferret out the truth, and you can bet mother and father won't own up to anything. It'll be fun." she told him.

"Fun," Max repeated. Fun in a way that his usual fun wasn't. People observing. He liked to observe people and this was a chance he hadn't had before. "I'm going to have to find a suit." Or a tuxedo? He had a suit and he frowned a little as he realized that the suit wouldn't cut it. "I'm going to have to go shopping, aren't I?"

Ari laughed lightly, amused. "Yes." she told him. "Get something that compliments..." she paused thinking about it. Then she considered him for a long moment. "Blue." she settled on, because it would bring out his eyes, and if she could help him stand out and have ladies whispering about him, excitedly when they thought they were being discreet, she certainly would do that. It was about him, not herself, so she was catering to his strengths. "I've faith you'll come up with something."

Max made a funny face at her, much like he did when she was a little girl. Blue. He could do that. "Not now though. Let's listen to the next play and see if we can figure out 'whodunit'. Winner gets to pick out what we tell our parents when you don't show up to dinner with that old pervert. Unless you want to go and try out your new blade." He didn't mind what she did, but he'd like her company and he thought she might like to just stay in too.

She smiled and climbed over the back of the couch to sit on it next to him. "I'm sure we can come up with something convincing. You desperately needed my attention with...something. Maybe you were saving orphaned kittens." she told him, giving him a sweet look. "And I'm going to win." she announced with a firm nod.

He brought his arm down around her shoulders and pulled her close in a hug as the announcer on the radio declared the end of the commercial break and he dropped a kiss on the crown of her head, adding in an extra squeeze. He was feeling more affectionate than usual and her words were still tumbling over and around in his mind. Open about who he was... "Only if I let you," he said confidently, in that older, brotherly tone that meant that she'd win it anyway. He didn't mind.