Chapter Text
“Well goddamn, if I’d known you’d make such a big deal about it,” Gia groused, and turned her gaze toward the crackling fire. Her painted lips held a light scowl, and she swirled a crystal glass of whiskey delicately in her left hand, cigarette in the other.
Alastor ran a hand through his curls in a snappy motion, not bothering to put them back in place when they flopped over his forehead. “You sent a telephone to my mother’s house- ”
“The address wasn’t hard to find. Your face is plastered on every front page down south. They even got your fucking shampoo! Do you actually use schwarzkopf ?” She wrinkled her nose at the new liquid shampoo brand. It was generally made for women, but she supposed that if his hair looked nice- it looked better than nice - that it didn’t matter.
Alastor ignored the hair-care quip, only proving her inquiry, and instead fixed her with a particularly unhinged glare. His smile curled at the sides, and tension bunched his shoulders. She wondered why he was very obviously upset, but far be it from Gia to even attempt solving the enigma that was Alastor Broussard.
He stood from the small loveseat across from her, and started pacing. “I don’t understand.” He said, the tone fringing on harsh as he tapped his finger to his chin.
“Listen, you’ve been bitchin’ about missin’ your ma, so I sent her a phone! I don’t see why that’s a problem!” She even mailed a nice note with the newest edition of a house telephone money could buy. Hopefully, that explained why the parcel just randomly showed up at the woman’s doorstep.
She had never met Alastor’s mother, but from his adoring stories of her, she trusted the lady to be smart and not look a gift horse in the mouth.
“I have not been ‘bitchin’ -!” Alastor rounded on her with a snarl, pointing that same finger in her face.
She raised an eyebrow slowly, and pushed the offending digit away from her nose, before taking a drag. “Alastor, you were talking about her for an hour at dinner last night. An hour .”
The smoke left her lips in a thin trail as she spoke, and the raspiness of the tobacco made her frustration all the more evident. This is why she didn’t do nice things.
It was too late for a fight, anyway. Normally, she’d be geared up for a verbal evisceration with Alastor, but her work had dragged on much later than usual. Glancing at the clock above the mantle, she reaffirmed her suspicions.
It was past midnight.
The lounge was dim with firelight, gas lamps burning on low. Curtains were drawn, and it was the perfect atmosphere to doze off.
Unfortunately for her, the asshat in front of her was not letting that slide.
“So, obviously the solution is to go behind my fucking back!” Alastor fired back with a suffocating amount of false cheeriness.
“I didn’t go behind your fucking back, I just didn’t tell you! Sorry I have more important things on my mind than a pissy-”
The sharp ringing of her own house telephone cut off what would surely become an invitation for a fistfight, and Gia couldn’t tell if she was relieved or not. On one hand, she was drop-dead exhausted, and had illegal liquor she quite enjoyed. On the other hand, she imagined kicking Alastor’s skinny behind was incredible therapy.
It was a recurring thought since she met him, but sadly had never come to fruition.
Alastor froze, like a deer in the headlights.
“Well, I think we both know who that is. The package should’ve arrived today.” Giovanna concluded that with a burning sip of her beverage. She sunk down marginally in the red velvet chaise.
Alastor’s adams apple bobbed, and she had never seen him this unsure. Usually he was so bombastically headstrong, it gave her a migraine.
It was refreshing, in a way, to see a crack in that insufferable air. He wasn’t half bad with his black hair curling around his narrow face, clad only in a dress shirt and suspenders.
And with that line of thought, she moved to set the whiskey on the coffee table. Clearly, she had enough.
“Go on. I know you wanna talk to her.” Gia encouraged. Her eyes softened, if only slightly, and from the quirk of her lips, no sardonic little jabs escaped.
No matter how much she despised him, this man had become a part of the household as soon as she saw Bella fast asleep, content, all the way back on the first night.
It seemed like a lifetime ago, but reality tallied only half a year.
Asshole or not, she wanted him to be somewhat happy here- if only for Bella’s sake.
“I- Well, yes. I suppose I should! It is incredibly rude to ignore a call!” Alastor stuttered slightly at the beginning, betraying his trepidation. He practically fled the room, and Gia assumed he felt uncomfortable without the persona he wielded like a shield firmly in place.
She could relate.
The ringing stopped, and since the phone was in the kitchen, Alastor was afforded negligible privacy.
Gia only heard bits and pieces as she smoked, alone with her thoughts.
The absolute warmth gushing from Alastor’s muffled voice left no room for argument- his Mother had read the note, and dialed her number.
“-Je sais, je sais - toi aussi, ma mère, tu m’as manqué.” She grumbled with displeasure, her plans of eavesdropping foiled. Fucker was speaking in french .
“-Non, ça va bien!”
“-Copine? Maman , p'tit, s'il te plaît!”
The garbled elegance of words she couldn’t understand continued to be thrown back and fourth. She stomped out the flutter in her breast at the absolute joy radiating off of the man- she could sense it from where she lounged.
The way he hung onto every word from his beloved parent made Giovanna more pleased than she’d like to admit- namely because she was the cause.
She took a deep inhale of smoke to numb her senses, numb her traitorous heart . She needed to suffocate these feelings while they still bloomed, lest they ensnare her in thorns.
After a good chunk of time- she didn’t bother checking the clock again, saving herself the displeasure of what it read- it seemed as though the reunion was wrapping up.
“-Oui, mo' promet que j'va venire.”
“- Maman !”
“-D'accord. J'va l'inviter.”
“Au revoir, m'amie. J'va t'parler encore bientôt.” And with that line, the sharp click of the receiver followed.
Giovanna took that as her cue to head up to bed, because she was certainly not sticking around for another lecture.
Leaving the amber liquid on the coffee table, Giovanna balanced her cigarette between her lips while she adjusted her lush, fur boa.
Soundlessly departing the refuge of the lounge, she purposely avoided Alastor in her path upstairs.
“Giovanna.” The shock of Alastor actually addressing her by her first name made her pause on the second step. He had never called her Giovanna, only titles he knew would annoy the shit out of her.
Mrs. Provenzano, to make her sound like an old widow.
Darling, because she was nobody’s fucking darling.
Dear, which was really just a continuation of darling.
The list goes on.
She waited.
“Thank you.” It was quiet, and held no mocking. The deliverance wasn’t fuzzy, either, in a way both would’ve despised. Neutral as the color gray.
She kept her eyes straight ahead. Show no weakness.
With a single nod, she went to her bedroom without another word.