Romeo Suarez with Alceu Wheeler
June 24, 2048 | midnight | Hotel Ares—Dog Suite
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collab with @Rose305
(Dr. Lecter (DarkiusHeavenstein))
Romeo had finished another chapter and was halfway through the next when the creak of his door diverted his attention from his book. In a split second he wondered if Dr. Lecter had already returned, but no, the doctor would have knocked first. When his actual visitor poked his head through the open door, offering a sheepish grin and an apology, he returned the greeting with a smile of his own.
"Don't worry, it's quite alright," he reassured the stranger. As he spoke, he observed his unexpected visitor. Seeming close to Romeo's age, although the young agent could also detect a hint of Italian in his tone and facial features, he was easily identifiable as American especially considering the tone of his query, regional accent indicating west coast like himself. Considering how close the two of them most likely lived, Romeo suddenly became very conscious of the distinctive vine tattoo spiraling down his right arm. He hoped that whatever gang this man was from didn't have some issue with Dark Vine that he was unaware of. Fortunately, due to the placement of his bed, his left side was facing the stranger, so maybe he wouldn't notice the tattoo.
The visitor held himself like a standard-grade mobster but also had a charming air about him. He also held himself somewhat stiffly as though his left shoulder and chest pained him, utilizing a set of crutches to support his weight and especially favoring his right leg. Considering the former observance, he had most likely been injured in a confrontation.
"Indeed I am," he affirmed to answer the stranger's question.
"Might I ask who I have the honor of meeting?"
The Italian's head cocked slightly, curiosity piqued by the way the other man articulated himself. Not just any street ruffian, no accent or slang use here it seemed. In fact, Alceu couldn't help but think of an English gentleman, probably due to the influence of movies. Whatever the guy was, his friendly tone was more than enough an invitation for Alceu to enter, carefully hobbling through the door to lean casually against the wall.
His smile grew when his earlier guess had been proven correct, a kind of excitement in his eyes beginning to gleam with renewed energy.
"Name's Alceu," the mobster offered, closing a single eye.
"Just your friendly neighborhood businessman." His tone was cool and casual, tinged with a note of innocence. Unfortunately, it did little to shatter the mischievous way he held himself, looking more like a snake than a mouse any day. It wasn't like Alceu was trying to hide it anyway, everyone here was a criminal 99 percent of the time, it just went without saying. Didn't mean he had to be open about his work though, Alceu may like to run his mouth but he was at least smart enough to keep certain trades a secret. You'd never know if a rival was lurking among the halls after all. Which begged the question: where was this guy from?
The mobster paused, looking at the other patient expectantly, waiting patiently for a return introduction. His eyes carefully picked over the details, looking for any distinguishing features that might catch his eye. It was a new face, not one Alceu remembered seeing at all. The U.S. was a pretty big place though, the Italian wouldn't be surprised it they worked in two different states entirely. Still, it was fun meeting other gangsters, at least for Alceu. So long as they stayed off his turf and didn't cause problems, they were cool with him.
Romeo acknowledged his introduction with a polite nod and a soft smile, bookmarking and closing his book before returning it to the bedside table. Considering how much time he had been spending alone lately, he would much rather have a conversation than read about them.
"Pleased to meet you, Alceu. My name is Romeo."
Considering how Alceu referred to himself, it would seem that his earlier deduction that the man was a mobster was correct. He was also unmistakably a troublemaker, the mischievous, clever glint in his eyes reminding Romeo of his good friend, Mamba. His observant look over Romeo held tones of curiosity, along with a slight wariness simply because the two of them were complete strangers, but he seemed disinclined to pose any threat at the moment.
"I'm not usually one for the more active aspects of the business, though I can defend myself if need be," he admitted.
"My role is intelligence."
Alceu felt his smile twitch and carefully reigned in the desire to chuckle. Romeo? Like the Shakespearean play? Oh man, did he have a girlfriend named Juliet? Oh God that would be absolutely perfect! Wasn't there a remake that portrayed the couple in modern time gangs? It took quite a bit of the Italian's self control to not blabber all that out loud. As clever as it may sound to Alceu, the mobster had a feeling the other probably heard plenty of it before. Instead, Alceu focused on Romeo's profession. He cocked his head again, brow raised.
"Not bad, sounds like it might be boring though." To an extent obviously, information gathering was thrilling in its own way but there could be a lot of down time where Alceu easily grew bored, hence why he got into so much trouble. The business aspect of his work satisfied that itch for adrenaline that the Italian mobster had become addicted to. At the moment, however, Alceu had another itch that needed scratching.
A loud grumble gurgled from his midriff, reminding Alceu why he had ventured from his room in the first place. He chuckled, patting his impatient belly.
"Sorry about that, I was actually looking for the cafeteria. You, uh, wouldn't happen to know where that is would you?"
Romeo couldn't help an amused chuckle at the look on Alceu's face at his name. He was thinking of a certain classical play featuring a Romeo, wasn't he? He'd gotten the reference a handful of times early on, although less now that he'd garnered more respect in his own right, but still found it funny, especially considering how wildly different that Romeo's personality was from his own.
"No, I don't have a girlfriend, Juliet or otherwise. I wasn't even named after that Romeo," he responded to the unspoken question in the other man's eyes.
"And quite the opposite actually: I prefer the less active role," he added to the observation that Alceu did voice. He smiled.
"Social interaction has always been my forté."
Falling silent for a moment with a thoughtful hum at his following question, Romeo responded,
"I believe so. I've been there once or twice, if I recall correctly." He paused, realizing at the reminder how long it had been since he had eaten.
"I think I'll join you. I'm feeling a bit peckish myself." He grimaced, glancing to his chest in full awareness of just how unpleasant that would be.
"Just... give me a moment to get up."
Pushing aside the sheet over his legs, he steeled himself and carefully pushed himself to sitting, a pained breath hissing sharply through gritted teeth as his ribs and shoulder protested the movement immediately and violently. When he eventually got his legs over the side of the bed and under him, he released an unsteady breath, lightly pressing his right hand to his aching ribs in an attempt to get them to calm down.
Alceu narrowed his eyes playfully.
"I can see why you're Intelligence: you're a mind reader, too." He winked, rapping a knuckle against his own skull.
"Should I start wearing tinfoil helmets? I bet they might have some to spare in the cafeteria," he joked, perking up when Romeo offered to join him. It would seem his wishes have been granted: not only would the Italian get to sink his teeth into some food but he could enjoy it with some company. The only thing that could make this better was some good alcohol. Didn't they have rice wine here?
"Take your time, compagno," Alceu hummed, wincing to himself. Judging from the way Romeo looked and moved, the other American was probably in worse condition. He mildly wondered what kind of shit Romeo had seen that ended up putting him in the Hotel, but then again, everyone here probably had an interesting story to tell. Alceu was suddenly struck with the profound sense of relief that he was even able to walk, let alone stand. It could have been different.
"I'm alright," Romeo assured him, taking note of his sympathetic grimace.
"Honestly, at this point, I should be moving around more than I have been. I just don't like to because, well, it hurts." He paused, mouth tightening in a frown.
"A lot."
Cradling his left arm in his right to keep his shoulder still, he cautiously crossed the room to join the other man. He nodded to the door, still standing partially open from Alceu's entry.
"Shall we?"
Alceu grinned, inching out the door and holding the finely decorated entrance open for his companion. He chuckled, pointing to his bummed leg.
You don't say, I'm feeling the same but I was too afraid to ask the nurse for something to eat." A sheepish quirk angled one corner of his mouth higher than the other.
"I got the distinct impression that he didn't like me very much. I couldn't understand a word of what he said." The hall was empty save for one or two personnel dressed in nursing scrubs. They didn't pay the pair much mind beyond a smile or one worded greetings.
"So, been here long, Compagno?"
"A couple weeks now, if I recall correctly," Romeo responded, nodding to him with a quiet word of thanks for the door as he passed. Glancing up and down the hall, he nodded in the direction he remembered the cafeteria being.
"How about you?"
Alceu's description of the nurse seemed vaguely familiar.
"And would that nurse have been one Mr. Soske? I encountered him a moment ago—it seems that he doesn't like Americans in general," he noted with a slight chuckle.
"Um... Hmm, maybe a day or two? I was out when they brought me in." He added, taking a second to think. His memories pre-Hotel were pretty hazy after the fight. A bumpy car ride here, loud plane engines, then nothing. If Alceu had to bet, he probably lost a lot of blood. He shrugged.
"Can't remember much."
Alceu grimaced in good fun.
"No clue, could've been. I guess Americans aren't well-liked in most places. Can't figure out why though, we're pretty awesome." He chuckled, winking.
Romeo hummed in agreement.
"I understand that." Amid the agony searing through his ribs after the boot brutally ground into his chest, he'd been too delirious to even recognize his own allies. He remembered weakly attempting to lash out at the one who lifted him from the ground, only calming when a familiar voice spoke urgent reassurances into his ear. He remembered lying on the backseat of a car, his head resting on someone's lap and pressure on his throbbing shoulder, and at the end of the ride, a dispassionate voice telling him to remove all weapons from his person, the chill of metal against his wrist, a sharp beep on the edge of his senses. After that, his memory blurred into indistinct movement and voices and harsh lights before he had finally woken up in the Dog Suite, hooked up to machines and IV lines.
Realizing he'd gotten lost in thought for a moment as they walked, he released an amused chuckle at Alceu's remark, quirking an eyebrow at the other man.
"Unfortunately, I've had enough experience with the American stereotype that I can understand the dislike for us."
Alceu cocked his head, brow raised.
"Eh, people are just overly sensitive at times. If they got a problem, they can settle it with me," he said confidently, crunching along with Romeo. The smell of food become prominent in the air, enticing the monster's mouth to water.
"I can smell something good cooking! I wonder if they only serve Japanese food?"
"Agreed." Lifting his head at the scent wafting through the air, the young agent could pick out the spicy tang of various Asian sauces.
"Most likely—I doubt other nationalities frequent this particular hotel."
Once the two of them had ordered, Romeo picked out one of the tables closer to the door so they had less to walk. The placement also had the advantage of a clear view to a clock hung on one wall, which he kept an eye on as they ate. He was still expecting Dr. Lecter to visit his suite soon and wanted to ensure he was back before then.
Alceu dug enthusiastically into his plate, scooping rice and steaming vegetables into his mouth with an appreciative hum. Not bad. Not Grandma's cooking, but it would do. The veggies were wholesome at least and steamed to perfection, tender yet juicy. He glanced up from his plate long enough to take a look at Romeo's, curious to see if his fellow American ordered the same.
"I hear the Japanese live longer because of their diets," Alceu mused aloud, making small talk.
"I can see why, everything is fresh," he mumbled right before stuffing his mouth with another helping. The Italian couldn't help but moan, a smile of bliss on his face. He had just placed a savory piece of beef into his mouth, the flavor practically exploding on his tongue. Okay, despite the fact that Mr. Sour Puss didn't like him and not a lot of people spoke English, Hotel Ares was easily going to be his first choice for medical treatment. Grandma always said that food healed your body faster, or at least Alceu liked to think so.
Romeo hummed in agreement, eating with less fervor than his companion but equal enjoyment. He had gotten a similar dish, having basically copied Alceu's order as he didn't want to think too much about food and knew from experience he was likely to enjoy it.
A little while into the meal, he glanced back to the clock and realized with a bit of a start how much time had passed.
"Oh, we should probably be getting back: I don't want to keep the doctor waiting," he noted to Alceu. Once both of them finished eating, he got up from the table with a bit of difficulty to walk with Alceu back to the Dog Suite, hoping he would be in time.
