Elegance with Expense

56. Never Ending Damnation

'Alessa you are not changing my decision, I reckon you have some leniency within this. If I had it completely my way, you wouldn't be allowed out of the house. That's cruel.' 

I stared blankly at him. There is no sense in his words, and certainly no leniency.

'And what is your profession? Aren't the people you are trying to protect me from, similar to you in some ways?' I grew frustrated.

'Using the word similar isn't accurate, the profession, as you call it, requires comparability.' 

'So, look me in the eyes, and tell me you have never done to a person what the Russians did to me.' My voice was scraping desperation as I finally recognised what I said.

Vince looked surprised, Manuel put his glasses down and Santiano set his folded newspaper on his lap.

Part of me wishes I never asked such a question, I knew that the mafia was a senseless, horrible thing, romanticised too often.

Killing and torturing came with the invisible contract for immortality.

'I would better not strip you of your innocence.' Vince looked me in the eyes as he said this. 

Although part of me was glad he didn't confirm, I was annoyed at his words.

'My innocence?' I blinked. 'That ship sailed and sank a long time ago, don't you think so?'

'You're young, no matter how hard you believe contrastingly, there is an amount of purity that you may not always see. You've demonstrated it, because I'm not sure how a soul as pure as yours has survived in a world like this for so long.' Manuel, the alchemist spoke. 'So yes, Vince is right at this moment.' 

'You can't compartmentalise mortality.' I ignored his words, I knew they were used to throw me off track and away from this conversation.

'However, it is necessary in our line of work.' 

'Perhaps you should reevaluate your ways, seems like a hefty price to pay for never ending damnation.' 

'Never ending damnation?' Santiano breathlessly laughed. 'What is it you think we do? Enslave children? I can assure you, I'm not quite at damnation.' 

'I don't think that's your call to make.' I stated, narrowing my eyes.

'I don't think it's your either.' His eyes hardened, that scary fatherly look I've only seen when Lorenzo arrived back to the villa drunk.

I scowled at him.

Who does he think he is? Does he just expect me to accept that this is just an unfortunate consequence of his chosen occupation.

There are notions of right and wrong. Both applicably acceptable.

He is wrong.

It seemed as though the conversation was over, everyone was minding their own business, seemingly unbothered by the previous discussion.

For the next hour, we sit in silence.

That is until I hear a voice. 'A double, Grand Old Parr.' I heard Santiano speak to the waitress who was leaning over him slightly. Because of the fact that he was in front of me, I could see that the lady was bent, only due to the fact that he wasn't speaking with his full voice. The first few buttons of her black shirt were undone, you could see the definition of her cleavage, no doubt, it is why he ordered his premium whisky in a hushed tone.

The woman who once served the bodyguard, stood up straight and brushed down her uniform. It was no surprise that she looked relatively flushed, so she turned and walked into the back, clearing her throat on the way.