Strange Charade

Who: Ian and Sam
Where: Sam's place
When: Evening

Ian was not amused. He'd not enjoyed getting a phone call from Samantha's mother of all people, demanded that he go visit her daughter, who apparently was not feeling well or something along those lines. It was "almost imperative that Ian visit his cousin." Or so the incredibly obnoxious woman claimed. Gritting his teeth, he called in a favor with the hotel's doorman. Shoshannah was free to leave, but Ian wanted to know where she was going. He gave the doorman a little extra cash, telling him to make sure he got the girl a cab, then Ian would be certain of where she was headed.

He gathered his own transportation, making a stop at the market first to get flowers, and then sending the driver on towards his cousin's place. Ian hoped the woman didn't try crying on his shoulder or anything. Even more so he hope Samantha's mother had gotten over the idea that he might actually be the one who tamed her wild mess of a daughter.

Ignoring the request would have been ideal, but it couldn't be done if he wanted to maintain his standing with the family. So instead he was nodding to the goons standing outside her door. "Evening boys, I'm assuming if you're here, then she's here?" The guys knew him, that was the case with lower level people in mob families, they spent more time with each other than with the higher ups. One of them eyed the flowers and Ian suspiciously. "Her mother called," Ian pointed out, which got him an understanding nod and passage to knock on Samantha's door.

Sam was lounging on her couch, feet kicked up on the coffee table and that day's Echo opened before her. considering that she hadn't heard anything from Jakob on the matter, either the bodies hadn't thawed yet to determine if it was accidental or homicide, or this was yet another case being passed off. The latter would make sense, considering Jakob's plan and the brass wouldn't want him becoming distracted.

The knock on her door was surprising. Maybe it was Jakob bringing the case file to the Bedlam case but when she opened the door, she was sorely disappointed. "Ian," she said, letting the genuine surprise she felt at seeing her cousin in her doorway. "Uh, come on in." Flowers. Interesting.

She still looked like she'd been smacked around with a baseball bat. Bruises were quite visible on her wrists and up and down her lower arms. Her face had lost the majority of its swelling and was now just a colorful array of purple and blue, green and yellow. It was extremely different from her usually golden glowing self.

"Samantha," Ian greeted her as he followed her into the apartment. "These are for you," he said, handing off the flowers. "You're mother called." The preface had worked just fine on the meatheads outside, so Ian imagined that the woman had already kicked up plenty of dust already. He took a moment to look her over, shocked at what a mess she was. When he'd heard "sick" he assumed ill or pregnant which seemed to be the two most common situations people find themselves in. If it had been anyone besides Samantha, beaten up by their significant other was also an option, but as Samantha chose keep her suitors in a rotating door, Ian had ruled that out as an ailment.

"Well, thanks," she said, a little wary but took the flowers from him. "Come on in. I just made some coffee and Ma brought over some of her lamb. It's in the oven if you're interested." This was kind of weird. Ian had never come visiting her before and she wondered if her mother was making people come and visit her. "Let me put these in some water."

Given that Samantha seemed completely confused by his arrival, beyond that of just it being Ian, he swore silently. That damned puff of a woman who claimed to be this girl's mother really hadn't dropped the idea that Ian could convince her daughter to change her ways, leaving the police force where she apparently got beat like a bad boxer and marrying someone stable. As much clout as he could gain from a marriage of that nature, Ian would rather be shot. There was no obvious way out of that sort of marriage, short of killing his cousin, and that certainly wasn't going to go over well. "Lamb sounds good, you know I never want to turn down your mother's cooking. She didn't tell you that she called me?" Ian's voice showed nothing of the rage of frustration floating through his mind.

"Because she called you to try convince me to repent and change my ways?" Sam countered over her shoulder, leading the way into the kitchen. Because Ian was a good boy. A respectable boy and had made such a name for himself that maybe he could be a good influence on her. That's what Sam had heard more than once and if her mother wanted the two of them to get married, well, Sam would have words to say about that. "No, she didn't, but it's nice to see someone else besides her." And Sam meant that. She offered him a smile, although it probably wasn't as nice as it usually was, but again, it was genuine. Oh my god, I'm going insane if I'm actually glad he's here.

"She left that part out, just said you needed company. Although I don't doubt that wasn't in the back of her mind." Ian returned her smile with the goofy grin that made him seem far more approachable than his standard smile would. "I know better than to try that, although from the looks of you, she might not be too far off this time." The look on Ian's face wasn't teasing, but rather sympathetic and concerned, as if he hated seeing his cousin hurt. Which was ridiculous because frankly he couldn't care less. If she got beat up from being a cop she probably deserved it.

Sam reached into the cabinet to get a plate out. White china. He should approve. "Well as long as you don't drag me to church, I don't care what you do." She expected a lecture. A sermon on how his 'dear cousin' deserved better. She grabbed some oven mitts, and opened the oven to get the lamb, which had been sitting in the warm oven as to not overcook but still stay a nice temperature. "So what's the argument on convincing me that I should find someone nice and hang up my gun?"

Ian did approve of her dishware, but didn't comment. Despite her tomboy attitude, Ian knew Samantha enjoy the little luxuries of being who she was. "Samantha, don't take this the wrong way, but you look like someone used you as a punching bag. I'm also guessing it wasn't a boyfriend, but rather a work related injury."

A shrug and Sam got a knife out to slice him up some lamb to eat. "What, so the whole family doesn't know what happened? Interesting." Unless he was playing her. She'd believe he'd do that because she'd do it too. She did do it. So did everyone else in the "family" so to speak. "Unless you're out of the loop?" It wasn't meant to be an insult or anything. Just a simple fact and it was stated as such. "More Giacomo related, I guess. Don't know how big the repercussions went." So yeah. She made it clear that it was something serious, enough that at least the Giacomo family of the DiGiovanni's would be affected and possibly have even more ramifications.

"They know that things have been keyed up, and last I heard that was a manhunt going on...Is that because of what happened?" Ian was a little shocked. The Giacomo half of the family must have kept that detail to themselves. Not that people really question that sort of thing much.

"Jumped in the park by some Chinatown jackasses," Sam elaborated. Or, well, as elaborate as that explanation could be. "Potatoes?"

Ian's face was one of shock, although he'd already put that together. But the hit out on Johnny Tang was a little more for just beating one of their girls black and blue, especially for just another loudmouth punk. Ian looked her over again discretely, wondering if something else had happened. "Sure," he finally answered.

Sam dished out a few potatoes from the dish, arranging them on the plate to cater to Ian's Drake sensibilities. She paid attention. She knew how he liked things to look. "Anything to drink?" It was like a game. The married couple who hated each other sitting down to dinner after a long day. The husband fucking the secretary. The wife carrying the milkman's baby. She turned away to take out the dish of vegetables and added them to Ian's plate. Wouldn't her mother like to be a witness to this.

"Yes?" The confusion in his tone was again not completely faked. He was wondering what was going on, curious why she was just glossing over the whole thing, acting as if nothing was out of sorts. "Samantha, are you alright?"

"Should've seen me three days ago," she said with a smirk and a wink with her good eye. "Could barely move." She was joking about it, which was probably making it clear to Ian that it was a lot more than just getting 'jumped', but saying it would make it real and Sam was just fine not saying it.

Ian watched her again, considering the situation. He'd been right, just the way she was talking was enough to verify that attack was as he'd thought, worse than a mugging. Reaching out he took the plate from her and set it on the counter, reaching out to touch her arm.

Sam flinched briefly when he touched her arm. It was a quick reaction but it was a reaction just the same and Sam did an admirable job of shrugging it off. "What?" she asked him, unsure of what to make of the physical contact. It wasn't like they were at a social event or something where friendly, familial contact was encouraged for show. It was... a little weird but Sam didn't move away. That would give him too much.

He saw the flinch, that sort of thing he didn't miss. It was different from Shoshannah, who practically fell into his touch. "What's wrong? You're not acting like you."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Not acting like me?" she asked, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter, looking at him curiously. "And how do I normally act, dear cousin of mine?" Sam challenged. "Not the way you wish I would, I already know that."

He let his face go bashful, almost ashamed, but then after a moment, rallied, pulling himself up a little straighter. "That's just it then isn't it. You're making me dinner Samantha. Without a second plate for yourself. You're gunning for housewife of the year, complete with bruises. It's not you." His voice wasn't accusing, instead it was almost pleading and laced with concern. He didn't care, but getting on her good side could work in his favor for weeks on end, securing the slightly shaky ground between them. Not to mention he really was curious what had actually happened. If he was stuck here, he was going to get something out of it.

"Oh my God, Ian." She sounded exasperated. "I'm making you some food because I'm a good hostess. I may not listen to my mother but I still know how to treat my guests and you are my guest." Besides, she felt a tad insulted that being a housewife would include the bruising. Like she'd let any husband of hers beat her and still stay with him. She was a homicide detective. She knew over a hundred different ways to kill someone with a butter knife.

That was a little better, it sounded a little closer to her, but she was still...not there yet. "If that's all it is then, forget I asked." Ian caved, letting her win, taking the plate and moving towards the table to sit. It was a bait, although knowing Samantha she wouldn't take it.

Sam eyed his back warily. That was... too easy. Maybe. Sam wasn't sure. In fact, Sam wasn't really sure of everything lately and she'd already been thrown for a loop that Ian actually showed up here. Yes, at the "request" of her mother but still.

So she let him eat his food, helping herself to a Coca-Cola from the fridge and actually getting her cousin a glass of wine, playing up his "housewife" comment. "You have nothing to gain from knowing all the details," she said after awhile. He was a DiGiovanni. Even her ten year old cousins always tried to have some kind of information that would "gain" them something.

Ian looked up at her, mid bite. "You think caring about you is some sort of agenda?" He set the fork back on his plate and leaned away from the table, eyes fixed on her. "That's a little harsh don't you think?"

She cocked her head, fixing her eyes back on him. "Should I think?" she countered back. If she hadn't been holed up in her apartment all these days, she probably wouldn't have been as blunt with him as she would've been if things had been completely normal. "Or are you just curious?"

"It's harsh," he said calmly. "And yes, curious to a point. You flinched when I touched you. That's not typical. Makes me worry more than I was before." Ian hated playing this game with her. When they were younger it was amusing. Now it was just a waste.

"So you want all the details of how I had three guys hold me down while the fourth one raped me?" So... she said. But she didn't look away from her cousin. She kept her eyes on him, refusing to look away and appear ashamed. Ian would love that. She knew in her gut that he would. He was a DiGiovanni. They were all cut from the same cloth. "They were Lotus. They think they can get away with it." Even Ian would understand how big this was. How deep. That if it happened to Sam, Sam who was nothing like the other DiGiovanni girls, then any of the girls could be attacked. She of course left out how she'd been interrogating Johnny Tang earlier that same day. It was easier to imply that it was a family-related manner. She suspected Ian might like that source of information.

He watched her, wondering what the girl was trying to prove with her tough guy act. After a moment he got up from the table, moving towards her. Interesting the bit, about it being a family attack. He wasn't entirely sure he believed that, but just because he'd seen Tang. Hell, he'd even considered Tang as a usable contact, a way into the Lotus family, but ruled the moron out because as stupid as he was he was a loose cannon. Tang didn't think things through like that. Although maybe he was just the gun someone else pointed. Whoever that was, was even more interesting. "They won't get away with it Samantha." Ian touched her again this time, although with a more protective feel to it.

"You think I'm worried about that?" She looked up at him, letting him touch her again. If that made him feel better or less useless or... whatever it was that Ian sought. "I'm not. I've got bigger things to be concerned about." Like the raids that were going to happen soon. But she offered him a bright and brilliant smile. "Are you offering to be my knight in shining armor?"

"You wouldn't let me be, even if I was offering," he reminded her. "You don't need a savior, you never have." Plus Ian didn't get his hands dirty. "How about just someone to lean on?" He couldn't believe the words had come out of his mouth, but he had to save some face from not being interested in running to her rescue. He slid his hand to her back, standard for him, and leaned in to press a light kiss to the top of her head. It was a familiar gesture, not romantic, just friendly, like family.

"Thank you for the offer, but I won't bother you," she turned him down graciously. "However I'll keep it in mind." Whatever made him feel important. She let him put his hand on her back and kiss her head. Played along like she had been doing. "Thank you for stopping by though. It was nice to see someone else these past couple days." And that she did mean.

Ian smiled, taking the appropriate step away. It might have been better for him if she'd given in, actually talked to him about what was going on, but he didn't want to actually listen to that. Not with everything else on his mind. "You know where to find me," he told her. "And I'm glad I came by. It was good to see you Samantha." He shifted, smoothing his vest again, and then headed towards the door. "Enjoy the flowers."

"Thank you," she said again, this time in reference to his visiting and flowers and followed him to the door and opened the door. "Have a good night yourself."

He leaned in again, kissing an unbruised portion of her cheek. "Goodnight Samantha," Ian told her and then headed out. If he hurried he might be able to take up his vigilant watch for Shoshannah, but given how late it already was if she was leaving she would have already left. Nothing gained besides staying in Giacomo favor with Samantha's mother and perhaps some information about family lines bowing here and there. He'd have to look into the Lotus family again, see if they were really equipped to survive a move on the family. So much work to do, always so much work to do.