Unsettling Differences || potassiumboron and VanillaCola

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Alexander's phone lit up as he received a new text message. Reading what it said, he smiled faintly out of relief. "Kid's in position. Target on his way." After texting back a quick "keep watch", Alexander relaxed in his seat and hoped for the best. He trusted that Valentino and his Royals could handle the situation swiftly and effectively, but still, he couldn't help but feel a slight hint of nervousness in the back of his mind. No matter how much he relaxed and told himself that this would all go well, that anxiety would still be there, reminding the gang leader of what could happen if this went wrong.

Ramsay was seeing the world through half-lidded eyes. Whilst going out early in the morning was common for him on some days of the week, he still felt the lack of sleep affecting him. At least the streets were mostly empty at this time of day, saving the gangster from any unwanted attention. Or at least, that is what he had hoped for. It seemed that today would be different in a way that he hadn't imagined. As he came closer to the cornershop that he liked to visit, he thought he saw someone familiar nearby. They were in the distance though, too far for him to care about who exactly they were. However, as he neared the shop and heard a voice call out to him, Ramsay snapped his head in the sound's direction, much more interested in who this person was. His destination was no longer the cornershop – instead he was heading toward this annoyance.

That voice rang an unmistakable bell in Ramsay's head, and he didn't even have to get close to know that it was Valentino who was taunting him. If this was any other time of the day, Ramsay may have been in a more jovial mood, but this was early morning, and he was more than a little irritated to be hearing that posh boy's voice. His insults were not well-received, and as Ramsay closed in on Valentino, a deep scowl had formed on his face, and his teeth were gritting together. The gangster was stood a few inches away from Valentino, the shop and whatever it was he had meant to buy now gone from his mind.

"What are you talking about, piglet?" Ramsay questioned, his eyebrows knitted together and eyes narrowed. "I'm not in the mood for your little comments, rich kid. You picked the wrong time to start screwing around with me." Ramsay turned his head to the side and hurled a wad of toothpaste-flavoured spit onto the pavement. "Where have you been all this time? I haven't seen you doing much of anything lately. Been busy with your boyfriend Alexander? I saw how close you two were – think I don't know when something's going on?" Unfortunately for Ramsay, he didn't know quite how much really was going on. Whilst he believed that the two were in cahoots somehow, he could never have predicted that Valentino was working with Alexander on a plot to take Ramsay's life. The thought hadn't crossed his mind. In his eyes, Valentino was nowhere near able to do something like that, even if he wanted to. He was just some boy who had no place in the darker sides of the world, especially those that Ramsay and Alexander occupied.

In the car park, the Royals had spotted the altercation between Valentino and Ramsay, and they began to follow the next few steps of the plan. Making sure their hoods where up so as to hide their identities, two Royals opened up the back of the white van. Ramsay saw them out of the corner of his eye, but he didn't care what two random men were doing. Valentino was stood right in front of him, and he was much more focussed on the student than anyone else in that moment. The two Royals made sure the back of the van was clear enough to fit as many people in as they needed to, and then they got to looking busy. One of them spared a glance over at Valentino, before continuing to make himself look busy.

"You might think I don't know what you're doing, but I'm aware of when someone's doing something behind my back," Ramsay threatened, his words carrying more meaning than he thought. To him, they were hollow, but if he knew what was in store for him, perhaps they would have had a lot more weight. "I have eyes and ears all over these streets, nothing goes undetected. Not even things that the son of the police chief does." He jabbed a finger into Valentino's chest a couple of times, making his point physical and verbal, and then he scoffed. "Why don't you go run along to university or wherever it is you go every day? I'm getting bored of you already." With that, Ramsay stepped away from Valentino and glanced over at the cornershop, before looking back over at the student. "Go on, get lost before I end your 'fulfilling life'."​

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"Have you been keeping tabs on me, Ramsay? I suppose I'm honoured, in a way. You can't get me out of your head. I'm surely not a danger to you. I'm just a student, aren't I? Maybe, yes, I've been talking with Alexander, but it's nothing you need to concern yourself over. Frankly, it isn't even to do with you. You're so paranoid, aren't you? The world doesn't revolve around you, Ramsay, no matter how egotistical you are. Narcissism will only get you killed, that's what my father says," he retorted flatly -nonchalance was something he could execute perfectly, and the cool drags on his cigarette did help to maintain indifference.

Hell, it wasn't even that big of an act. He truly didn't care about Ramsay, and currently, he did feel a lot more empowered. He knew he was in the position to pull off the plan, and he could easily let it fail if he so desired. Luckily, he wanted it as much as Alexander... and he didn't really fancy getting on Alexander's bad side, either. He did rather like the man, after all. He was decent... for a gangster.

Breathing out his smoke calmly, he did his best not to flinch when jabbed. It would have been easy to be riled; to react with angry snarls like he would have done when the two first met. But being collected and unimpressed would only irritate Ramsay more than if Valentino rose to his teases, and the main target was to irritate him.

It wasn't too hard to irritate Ramsay. The two were cat and dog. Valentino, in the metaphor, preferred himself to be the cat. Graceful, gentle, composed but cunning and imposing when the right time came along. Ramsay, therefore, was the dog: physically far more intimidating, threatening, defensive and protective. Though, even Valentino could see the benefit of being a dog: the intense loyalty and familial love.

Now, Valentino didn't have any clue about Ramsay's family. For all he knew, Ramsay could hate his family-- but if Valentino wanted to get the other to follow him, he had to say something incredibly personal to grab the man's attention and to make him want to wring his neck with murderous intent. And insulting family would achieve that, if they were as close as Valentino hoped.

"If you must know, I'm helping Alexander escape prison time after your gangs had that little fight outside the club," he lied easily, turning to put out his cigarette with all the time in the world. Time was of the essence, but if he urgently rushed about like a headless chicken, he knew Ramsay would grow suspicious. So instead, to avoid that, he played it out as he would normally, however irritatingly long it must have been for the awaiting Royals.

"My father knows," he continued with a forced smile of not-forced tedium, turning on his heel to slowly trail off. "My father is cracking down on you and your little gang, Ramsay. I long for the day where I see you behind bars, and your little family all crying that their son probably won't see the light of day again-- unless they don't give a shit about you, which wouldn't surprise me. I bet your father's a drug addict already in prison and your mother... I bet your mother's a whore."

As soon as the word left his mouth, potentially for the first time ever, he did force back a cringe, peering curiously over his shoulder. And then for the cherry on top of the cake: a teasing smirk that did admittedly ooze cockiness. He realised Ramsay probably adored having power over him, so failing to look or appear submissive would hopefully irk him, if nothing else.

"You're quite literally the son of a whore, aren't you?" He taunted, turning back to wander back off in the general direction of the van, though smart enough not to walk directly in its path. Just close enough so the Royals could grab Ramsay if, or hopefully, when he followed. "Oh, this conversation is boring-- you've sort of lost your mojo, Dillon. I suppose I'm disappointed? I do like our little chats..."​
 

Ramsay was about ready to walk away, assuming that Valentino was staying put. Usually, he was never one to back away from a fight or an argument, but he knew that if he stood there any longer, he would have done something severe to the student. He couldn't care less about what Valentino was talking about – all of this nonsense about how narcissism would get him killed, how he was apparently paranoid. It was too early in the morning to be talking about anything like that, and so Ramsay was about ready to abandon Valentino and continue on with his morning, albeit a bit more furious than he had been when he woke up.

However, when Valentino stopped spouting nonsense and mentioned Alexander, Ramsay became a little more interested in what the rich boy had to say. "Prison time?" He questioned, scoffing. "I doubt that ponce will be doing prison time. His dad's probably got half of the city's lawyers on his side – prison isn't anywhere in his near future." Whilst he knew that that had to be true – the Fourniers had far too much power – a part of Ramsay liked the idea of Alexander facing jail time. Just the thought of him, running around scared, worried about his life, emotionally ruined, made Ramsay smirk slightly. What he would give to have Alexander and his Royals out of the way.

Unfortunately, before Ramsay could revel in that idea, Valentino was speaking yet again, this time bringing up his father once more. The gangster had heard this all before. He was well aware that the chief of police was 'cracking down' on the gangs and whatnot, and honestly it didn't affect him. How many times had he been warned about the police cracking down on him? They hadn't done it yet, so what was there to worry about? But then, Valentino slowly began to draw in Ramsay's family. He was dragging them into this whole situation, and as each word left the student's mouth, Ramsay's eyes narrowed even more, and his body turned to face Valentino inch by inch. The little runt's words were aggravating Ramsay beyond any boundaries that he thought existed. The insult directed at his father was bad, but what Valentino said about Ramsay's mother... As soon as that word permeated the air, it was as if something had snapped inside of the gangster. He glared with narrow eyes at Valentino, teeth bared as if he were some wild animal. Stood there, he watched as Valentino began to walk away, strolling as if he hadn't just said something utterly despicable. It took all of Ramsay's strength not to lunge for the young man, but as the distance between them grew larger, he knew he had to charge at him.

"You little bastard," Ramsay growled, following after Valentino. "Think you can talk shit about me and just walk away? My father was a self-made man, he did everything in his power to make sure we could get by. And my mother wasn't a whore you little twat. If anyone's mother is a whore, it's probably yours. Where is she, huh? Off in Milan or wherever-the-fuck shagging some Italian bloke? And your dad is the one getting fucked in the arse by every criminal in this city, considering he's done nothing to end any crime here. Your parents are the damn whores here, and you're the son of the two of them." Ramsay paused, and then laughed. "Are you even sure the chief of police is your dad? I wouldn't doubt it if you were some washed-up male model's son who your whore mum got off with."

All of these harsh words had caught the attention of the nearby Royals, who were watching from the van. They knew that they had to step in soon, even if it did risk looking suspicious. Whilst there wasn't anyone around, they knew how odd they would look just approaching Ramsay, and they didn't want him to catch onto them so soon. However, they needed to act quickly when they saw the gang leader lunge at Valentino. His hands were going for the student's throat, the expression on his face saying it all. Clearly his outburst hadn't gotten all of the rage out of his system, and he was going for blood. Moving swiftly, he managed to grab Valentino by the neck, falling to the ground in the process and dragging the young man down with him. The two Royals who had gotten out of the van rushed over, knowing that it was now or never with this plan. Ramsay was too distracted to notice them running over, and so they easily got a hold of both of his arms. It took some strength, but they pried him away from Valentino, one of them taking the initiative and pulling out from his jacket pocket a cloth that he had drenched with chloroform.

"Get off of me!" Ramsay snarled, but it was muffled by the cloth going over his mouth and nose. He struggled as the two Royals dragged him to the van, though his body was slowly going limp. As he was pulled away, his eyes remained focussed on Valentino, putting the pieces together. This was no coincidence – this was all a plan. The little piglet had duped him somehow. Even as his vision darkened and blurred, he still stared at Valentino, mostly out of disbelief. It took a couple of minutes of last moment struggling in the back of the van, but eventually Ramsay fell unconscious, collapsing against the two Royals. They had pulled him far into the back of the van, and once they were certain that he was out, one of them peeked out at Valentino.

"Get in," he told the young man. "We've got to hurry." The Royal glanced around the area, almost certain that soon, someone would start poking around and investigating the noises that they had heard in the car park. As soon as Valentino would join them in the van, then they could get going to the hideout. They were working on a clock now, racing against time.​
 
Valentino, of course, wasn't stupid. He had anticipated a reaction of pure vitriol the moment he had opted to make Ramsay's family the target of his vile insults. Frankly, he was rather happy to get beaten if it meant the Royals managed to get their hands on Ramsay. It wouldn't be pleasant, but it was definitely worth risking that to give Ramsay what he deserved.

However, he was happy to admit how surprised he was at the tumbling insults from the gangster. If anything, Valentino easily fell victim to his own tactics. His decision to attack Ramsay's family had only left his own being insulted vehemently by an understandably raging Ramsay. The insults of his mother in particular, like with Ramsay, made Valentino pause and glance back at him... though surprisingly coolly.

The difference was that, as much as he knew he ought to care more about his family, he didn't entirely flinch when his mother's fidelity was questioned, or his own genetics. Any other person would plausibly and understandably rise in disgust at their parentage being openly doubted upon, and their mother being referenced as a whore who was potentially with a man at that moment. Valentino, on the other hand, simply cocked a smirk in amusement at the counteractive tactic. If Ramsay had nothing else to throw at him but that, then so be it.

It was sociopathic if nothing else. He could easily listen to his parents and his family, the people that sacrificed everything for him, being vitriolically downgraded. It made no real difference to him, yet if he himself was directly insulted, he would rise in disgust. If anything, it completely emphasised and epitomised his selfishness and his narcissism. In his world, only he mattered.

After the verbal battering, he knew a physical one would soon rear its likely head. In fact, as soon as he had smugly blocked any attempt to insult him, he felt Ramsay shove him to the ground with a hand around his neck. Having the physically stronger man on top of him, eyes furious and hands tightening unkindly around his neck was a cause of fright. Even for someone as cold as Valentino was, his eyes did light in panic unhelpfully, squirming desperately to try and pry the hands away from him, all while gulping desperately for breath. It didn't hinder his anger, though - his nails dug firmly into Ramsay's fingers, while he took the opportunity to spit in the man's face - he would have been likely to do anything to escape that scenario, so in many ways, he was fortunate one the Royals finally seized the opportunity to tug the man away from him, especially as it gave the student a chance to collect himself; gather his breath and hold his throat tenderly.

Despite the intense pain, and the fact he knew some dark bruising was likely to arise (bruising that would be difficult to explain away to those closest to him), the only thing that mattered was seeing Ramsay glare at him in realisation. If he didn't get to see anything else, that lasting glance was enough for Valentino to beam back in delight - of course, as smugly as he wanted and felt he deserved to be.

"I'm coming, I'm coming. Honestly, you could have jumped in sooner, couldn't you? My neck is throbbing - Alexander had better be thankful I put my life on the line for this. I could quite have easily refused," he retorted grumpily, his momentary euphoria ending when he found swallowing and even talking only infused and provoked sharp pain. His voice was husky at the moment, a result of practically being strangled, so talking was somewhat limited unless he wanted to feel the pain - and by no means was he a masochist.

Shoving himself into the van upon demand, he sat calmly down and lit another cigarette - his second of the day and it probably wouldn't do his throat any good, but he felt he deserved a little relief after the tense few minutes of dealing with Ramsay and being hurt by him. But sitting next to his unconscious body, happily leaned back with a cigarette, he felt it was pretty obvious just who the winner out of them was.

Now, he could quite clearly have walked away. The deal between him and Alexander was pretty much at its completion, and there was no real need for them to keep in contact. He had successfully brought in Ramsay, and Alexander would undoubtedly wreak whatever vengeance he desired, which Valentino was happy to let happen. He didn't have to be there to watch the inevitable... but he wasn't entirely content in just walking away. Not only did he want to see Ramsay vulnerable and beaten, but he did want the man to wake up realising that Valentino had played a substantial part in landing him in this trouble; that Valentino had been working alongside Alexander to achieve all this. And besides, he was surprisingly a fan of Alexander's, and he was curious as to just what the man had on his mind to punish Ramsay. Witnessing that was paramount to completing the whole deal, in his eyes. Without seeing it for himself, by his own eyes, he knew he wouldn't be entirely satisfied.

As much as he felt he hated this sort of lifestyle, it was definitely addictive.​
 

Once Valentino was in the van, the back doors were shut and locked tight, and the group was ready to go. Ramsay was as incapacitated as could be, so there was no need to worry about him. Valentino's comments had gone noticed by the group, though most of them tried to ignore him. It was no secret that they felt he was far from capable of being a part of this plan, yet according to Alexander, he was a key piece of the puzzle. To be quite honest, some of the Royals had felt it downright insulting – they were more than able to apprehend Ramsay and make off with him, yet they needed to drag around a little brat with them instead. Of course, Alexander had told them to not fight back, to just keep their mouths shut and go along with the plan. And that was what they would do for the most part.

"You should be thankful to Alex, without him you would still be scared of Dillon," one of the Royals piped up, scowling as he glared at Valentino. It was clear that he had tried to suppress his true feelings, but there was no stopping him when it came to speaking his mind.

"Ted, shut up," one of the other Royals in the front seat snapped before Valentino could respond. He rolled a window open, letting the cigarette smoke out of the van.

"Why should I?" Ted retorted. "This kid does nothing, and then starts talking shit about Alex like some entitled brat."

"You're just being an arsehole."

With a growl, Ted quietened down, and proceeded to mind his own business for the rest of the drive. They took a detour to a small Royal-owned garage, the plan being to switch vehicles before going to Alexander's house so the van couldn't be tied to him in any kind of way. Once the group had switched over to a Range Rover and had hidden Ramsay in the boot, they continued on their way to Alexander's home, driving in silence. It may have been a rather uncomfortable quietness, but it was better than having to deal with insults and complaints. With any luck, all of that could be swept under the rug, and they could focus on the important matters at hand, such as the gangster that was unconscious in the trunk.

Arriving at Alexander's home, the car pulled into his garage and the door slid closed, blocking out the judgemental morning sunlight. Alexander was stood by the door, watching as the group exited the Range Rover and opened up the boot. He didn't say anything, instead moving over to them in silence and peering into the back. Seeing Ramsay lying there made him smile, though he knew better than to get too comfortable with this whole situation. There was still the possibility for things to go very wrong – he knew that better than anyone of them.

"Take him down into the basement," Alexander told his Royals, who were quick to pick Ramsay up and enter the house, presumably going off to do as they had been told. "Valentino, I need to speak to you." Once Alexander was certain that his subordinates were gone and out of earshot, the gang leader continued. "Did everything go well?" He asked. "I imagine since you're in one piece that Ramsay wasn't too much trouble."

He paused, and then continued. "You need to stay here for a while, at least until Ramsay is dealt with. This could take all day, but it needs to be done for your safety. Soon enough, people will realise that Ramsay is missing, and they will try to find those that they think could be responsible – I assume you would be in the firing line." Taking a moment to allow Valentino to process all of this, Alexander continued. "You can stay here for the day, and then when Ramsay is dealt with you can go and I'll make sure the Royals are doing something to watch out for you. It's a necessary precaution, I'm afraid." If Alexander was correct, Ramsay would most likely be out for a couple of hours minimum, and once he was awake, the gangster didn't plan on ending it all quickly. And as much as Valentino appeared to detest this lifestyle, he presumed that the student wouldn't want Ramsay's demise to be swift either. "Just stay here for a few hours, soon enough we'll be able to deal with Dillon, and then you can go back to your relatively normal life."

'We'll be able to deal with Dillon'. Since when did it become 'we'? Valentino had done one thing – and whilst it had been a key part of this entire plan, it was still just one cog in a machine. And now Alexander was saying 'we' and actively including the young man in this situation. Though he couldn't be too amazed at the oddness of that idea. This whole situation was strange in its own way, no matter how you looked at it. One of the most influential gangsters in the city working with the son of the chief of police. How much more unusual could this situation get?​

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Now, after his comments, Valentino did expect some rolled eyes, or the faintest of cusses from the Royals. After all, he was the one who constantly informed Alexander that he was surrounding himself with incapable imbeciles; idiots, really, whose sole use lay in their strength - that was already epitomised by them being able to grab Ramsay off him.

After insulting them so openly, without fear of backlash, it was only inevitable that he become disliked by them. However, he didn't entirely anticipate the anger being vocalised in that setting. He had hoped for a bit of peace and quiet, because no matter how euphoric he was, he wasn't used to being strangled, and collecting himself after the shock of it was of the utmost importance. So to then have one of Alexander's little gang members pipe up with some inane insult wasn't entirely... welcomed.

He would have resorted with a 'self-titled' remark, if talking wasn't a task. As it was, he simply retorted with a snort and an antagonistic roll of his eyes, because he had little to no respect for the men, and not an ounce of fear. He felt he had nothing to fear, and even if he did, he was wise enough not to show that. It would be pathetic to be seen as frightened - he had learned that from an early age.

Admittedly, he did grow angry, but he sat, surprisingly, in silence, instead choosing to remain quiet on the issue and simmer angrily under the surface, rather than explosively respond and cause an argument. After everything, he didn't feel like wasting anymore energy. He had wasted enough fighting off Ramsay (however much of a failure it had been).

Hitching out of the car once finally arriving at Alexander's home, thankfully still in one piece, he calmly waited for the men to dwindle off to the basement before even offering their leader a glance. He was hardly going to snitch, however much he hated the men he had travelled with, but he could indicate how pissed off he was. He was never the best at hiding his emotions anyway, and currently, his expression oozed disgust.

"One piece? That piece of filth had me by the neck. I let him strangle me, because, for all his failings, he is strong. And I'm not, evidently," he grumbled once having the chance to rant and rave furiously about the ordeal he saw himself having gone through, and perhaps for once, he wasn't hyperbolic in his grumblings. Being in the situation of having someone physically more dominant than you gripping your neck wasn't what anybody would wish for. Having it happen to Valentino just meant he could whine about it longer than was probably necessary.

On the positive side, it made him far more fired up to get back at Ramsay, and to rub it in his face when he woke up that he had a major part in what was hopefully his demise.

"We? So it's 'we' now, is it?" He commented, picking up on the choice of pronoun with a smile - the first since he had arrived back, mostly because his attention was drawn away from his bruises. "I have to admit, I thought you would continue to rule over it all as some omnipotent leader, but it's nice to know you have enough sense to involve me on some sort of equal footing. Regardless of how much you probably dislike me underneath, I've rather enjoyed our teamwork, Alexander. You're easy to work with. Your men, not so much, but I've made myself clear on that already, I won't moan about it further-- Before we do 'off' Ramsay, I'd like to at least talk to him. Show off a little, I suppose."​
 

Alexander had noticed the emotions that emanated from Valentino, though he tried to ignore them as best he could. However, when the student began to question Alexander's words and grumbled out complaints, the gangster couldn't help but be fully aware of Valentino's feelings. At the mention of Ramsay strangling Valentino, Alexander raised an eyebrow, only just then noticing the bruises that had begun to show on the young man's neck. It seemed the plan hadn't gone as perfectly as it could have, but honestly, it didn't matter all that much. Ramsay was in captivity, and with any luck, no one had been around to see him strangling the life out of Valentino in the middle of a car park. "At least he didn't kill you," Alexander noted, trying to look on the bright side with all of this. "That would have put a spanner in the works." He probably shouldn't have, but Alexander couldn't help but smirk slightly at his words. Perhaps it was more amusing when he wasn't on the receiving end of Ramsay's fury.

The fact that Valentino had picked up on the 'we' prompted Alexander to roll his eyes, not at all pleased with the fact that the young man had spotted his slip-up. As much as he didn't want to listen to Valentino revelling in his choice of pronouns, he couldn't block out the words, and so as the student spoke, Alexander listened. "I suppose it's only fair that you are somehow involved, considering you literally put your neck on the line during this whole plan." The faintest of chuckles escaped Alexander, before he continued. "But don't get too comfortable with this 'we' arrangement. Once this is all over, you will be returning to your life and I will continue with mine. And I suppose I can allow you to speak with Ramsay, if that's really what you want. He won't be awake for a couple of hours though."

As if right on cue, one of the Royals entered the garage, looking rather frantic. "Dillon's awake," he said, clearly catching his breath, no doubt from having run up to the garage. "He went a bit mad, but we've got him under control."

"Why is he awake?" Alexander questioned, his voice taking on a very stern tone. "I thought I told you to use the stronger stuff to keep him down for longer."

"I thought we did, but I guess someone didn't get the message."

"That's not a good enough excuse," Alexander half-growled, frustrated with this flaw in the plan. Now he was beginning to truly see why Valentino continued to hark on about how terrible most of the Royals were within this business. Not wanting to give Valentino the satisfaction of being right, the gangster cooled down somewhat and gave the Royal a pointed glare. "We'll be done in a moment, just make sure Ramsay is secured and not getting away any time soon." With a nod, the Royal left the garage, presumably to return to the basement and make sure everything was in order. As soon as he was gone, Alexander sighed, expecting Valentino to gloat about how right he was and how stupid the Royals could be.

"I suppose you won't have to wait as long as expected," he noted, shaking his head as he continued to think about how ridiculous this was. "Come on, let's go down there. I'm sure they have the situation under control by now. It's not as if they're dealing with a fully-functional Ramsay, after all."

Exiting the garage, Alexander headed through his home and descended the stairs to the basement, expecting Valentino to follow. The house was much more full of Royals, though they weren't crowding around the TV like they had been during Valentino's first visit. They were like vultures, lingering in doorways and halls as they watched Alexander and Valentino on their way to the basement. Some looked nervous, others looked confident. And some looked downright dangerous, their eyes narrowed and glaring at the student. Though Alexander took no notice of them as he entered the basement, finding another group of his subordinates surrounding an incapacitated Ramsay. He was sitting on the floor, arms tied behind him and around one of the beams that made up the foundations of the basement. The only injury on him was a small cut just above his eyebrow, and Alexander quickly looked over at the group of Royals as they shifted around, as guilty as could be.

"Leave," Alexander commanded, not even wanting to get into a debate about who had done what. Without a word, the group of Royals left, the stairs creaking as they marched up to the ground floor. Looking back over at Ramsay, Alexander saw the half-high smile on his lips. It seemed that whatever had been used to knock him out was still slightly affecting him, or maybe he was just being as childish and smarmy as he could be in this situation. Ramsay glanced over at Valentino, his eyes darkening as he did, though his attention soon went back to Alexander. For someone who had just been captured, he didn't seem all that bothered. But deep down, there was a storm brewing, it's rage bubbling up to the surface ever so slowly.

"Great," Ramsay slurred. "Now I have to deal with both of you at once, yet again."

"Shut up, Dillon," Alexander snapped. "Do you think this is some kind of joke?"

"Do you think this is a game?" Ramsay retorted back, smirking proudly, as if he knew something that no one else did. "Why have you done this? Is it because of Mason? Or is it because I have more friends than you do?"

Alexander didn't dignify Ramsay's words with a response, despite the fact that his anger was simmering beneath his skin. Instead, he looked over at Valentino, nodding over in Ramsay's direction. "Say whatever it is you want to say to him," he said, stepping back a bit as his gaze returned to Ramsay. Alexander wanted to stick around and hear whatever words Valentino had for the rival gangster, that was for sure. Maybe he would even add his own to the mix.

With Alexander moving into the shadows, Ramsay turned his attention to Valentino, still grinning as best he could. "You," he grumbled, his voice not fitting with his smile. "You thought you could get the best of me, but you haven't. I might be here now, but you haven't actually done anything of use to get me here. I should have snapped your neck when I had the chance – would have been doing the world a favour. One less entitled little shit in the city." He spat in Valentino's direction, and then bared his teeth in a half-smile half-snarl, still trying to look as unfazed as possible.​
 
Now, for someone as proud and as egotistical as Valentino, whose probable sole purpose in life was to support and boast about himself, hearing Alexander openly poke fun at his misfortunes (that was, being strangled), and with the audacity of a smirk? It didn't settle well. His response, therefore, was one that was probably expected: he glared as furiously as he dared at the man, with his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Of course, this was purely in an effort to stay calm - he wouldn't hit Alexander even if he wanted to. He knew when to draw the line, and hitting someone in their own home, surrounded by their friends who all happened to be a part of some crime syndicate? It wasn't advised.

Besides, Valentino was pretty sure that if he did throw a punch, it wouldn't register to someone like Alexander. Valentino may be egotistical, but he knew he possessed the upper body strength of a gnat.

Although, he managed both to keep his cool and (for the first time) also successfully kept back a smartass remark he would normally make within a blink of an eye. No, instead, he kept silent, simply shrugging at waiting back as Alexander conversed with one of his underlings about Ramsay's reawakening from unconsciousness.

Immediately, the realisation that Alexander's men were truly imbeciles of the highest standard broke his momentary vow of silence. How could it not? Any chance to gloat about something he had earlier said to Alexander was too good an opportunity to pass up, and even as they walked, and even though he knew Alexander didn't want to be told, he happily chirped as he hurried along after him.

"I have told you in the past, Alex. They're all bloody useless. No use to you whatsoever. They're actually as useful as a chocolate teapot," piped Valentino gladly, his smile finding its way back to his face and seemingly glued there as he trotted beside him, smugly continuing his comments whilst smoothing his hair down and flattening out any creases in his t-shirt.

He knew that he would soon be stood in front of Ramsay and drugged or not, he didn't want to give any reason for the man to target him. Obviously, Ramsay would find something to say, but Valentino didn't fancy giving him any easy statements to make. Besides, it gave him something to focus on. It was hard to ignore the glares he was receiving from those idiotic subordinates. He didn't particularly care if they hated him, or if they wanted his head stuck on a spike. He was met with hatred from most people, and if he drew hatred out of these men, then so be it. He would rather be hated than liked by them, in all honesty...

It was when he was stood in the basement, quietly grumbling under his breath from the cold, that he realised his earlier comment. Alex. He had actually failed to call the man by his full name. This could be a sign of familiarity and enjoyment in Alexander's presence... but, both because it had been made plainly obvious that their acquaintance would soon come to and end, and because Valentino wasn't a sentimental person, he chose to diagnose his slip of the tongue as a sign of failing to recover efficiently from his fracas with Ramsay.

Hell, he had been strangled! Surely that was enough of a reason to forgive stupid comments...

Although, that was quickly forgotten when he laid eyes on Ramsay, satisfaction soaking in at his dishevelled state and the cut, however small it may be. Waiting for the little exchange between the other men to finish, he eagerly grinned when invited to have an exchange of his own with the gangster-- especially to address the insults he had been predictably thrown.

"I had nothing to do with you being here? Continue believing that, Dillon. You just can't accept you were tricked, that's all. You're too proud-- and killing me? You wouldn't have killed me, I think you enjoy our meetings." Valentino commented, the only thing that ruined the moment being his hoarse voice. If anything, it did remind him of what Ramsay could do... but the comfort that he couldn't do that anymore was substantial.

"You hate me; I hate you. Is any of this truly a surprise? I mean, if you had left me alone, I wouldn't have resorted to this. If you hadn't entered my apartment purely to intimidate me, I wouldn't have been this personally fucked off with you. But you did, obviously. You're Ramsay Dillon, you do what you want, right? You're not omnipotent, though. Getting duped really isn't on high on your list of achievements, is it?" He taunted calmly, and surprisingly managing the whole event with success. Though, out of all the surprises that occurred, this wasn't one of them. He was naturally adept at taunts and provocation, so his venomous grins and sarcastic drawls weren't some shocking revelation. If anything was, it would be how calm he was. He himself anticipated shouts and snaps; not casual drawls.

And if he had to share the last conversation with Ramsay, he wanted his parting words to leave an impact.

"After this -after your impending, brutal death-, I think I'll go on a date with Dylan. You know him well, right? Childhood friend, works in your little gang, almost a brother to you-- he's told me the funniest stories about you, Ramsay. From what I hear, you were almost cute as a child," he gushed playfully, happy to reveal his acquaintance with Dylan. It wasn't a natural friendship, completely forced and feigned just to get information to use against Ramsay, but obviously Dylan wasn't the wisest character to have fallen for the ruse with little manipulation involved. Valentino was thankful for the boy's slowness - it meant he could rub it in Ramsay's face that someone so close to him had unintentionally befriended the 'enemy', in many ways.

"Dylan's cute, real cute. I'm sure he'll suit prison well when he spills everything to me about your little gang. My father's struggling with evidence, but Dylan seems to know a lot. Be a shame if he tells me everything, and incriminates himself, huh? That boy's a few sandwiches short of a picnic, honestly... but he's been very helpful~!"​
 

Alexander wanted to listen to what Valentino had to say to Ramsay, but as he found shelter in the shadows of the basement, staring off at the two men from different worlds, he found himself becoming distracted. His mind was wandering, running through an endless field, recounting recent memories. He thought back not only to Valentino's clear disdain of the way the gang leader had joked about his assault at the hands of Ramsay, but also at the way he had called him 'Alex'. That name was usually spouted by most of the Royals whenever they referenced him, though he hadn't heard Valentino use it until just then. Alexander wasn't stupid like Ramsay was. Detecting the small changes in people was what he did – he knew when he had agitated somebody, or when someone felt at ease with him. And Valentino calling him 'Alex' was one of those small, almost unnoticeable changes that he so often picked up on. It must have meant that the young man felt easy around this lifestyle, around him. And honestly...Alexander didn't know how to feel about that. This wasn't meant to become a regular thing – Valentino by his side as he engaged in illegal activity. But with how relaxed the student had become, Alexander couldn't help but think and wonder. Wonder about if this really was 'it', if their time together ended with Ramsay's life. Part of Alexander wanted it to be that way, and yet another half of him wanted anything but that.

Ramsay's words began to echo in his mind, and he was suddenly thrust from dilemma and intrigue into fury. He wanted to kill Ramsay right there and then for uttering Mason's name, but he wouldn't do that. If he did, he knew that he would be failing not just himself, but also Mason's memory. Murdering people out of rage was not what that man would have wanted, especially not when it came to Ramsay. No, he was like Alexander – kill people when you are the most level-headed you can be, so you know that no mistakes will be made by your hand. It was a belief that Mason had reinforced in Alexander, like a prayer you said every night before bed, or a chant you whispered whilst meditating. It was there, lodged in Alexander's mind, stored away along with all of the memories of Mason.

Slowly, Alexander came back down to the real world, Valentino's words now more than just a faint muffle. He looked from the young man to Ramsay, wondering what on earth must have been going through his head. Here he was, in a predicament that he most likely assumed would never happen. How would anyone think in this situation, especially when staring down someone like Valentino. Maybe he thought he would have a merciful death, or maybe he though he had died when he felt that cloth over his mouth and nose in the car park. Either way, Alexander wondered what it was like to stare death in the face when death was Valentino.

I'd rather be staring death in the face than this little shit, Ramsay thought to himself as Valentino continued with his spiel. None of his initial words really affected the gangster, or at least, that was how he felt through his facial expression. It was a mixture of blankness and smugness, something that he had concocted in an attempt to frustrate Valentino and Alexander. Eventually, this look transitioned into one of boredom. He rolled his eyes as Valentino noted that 'getting duped' wasn't high on Ramsay's achievement list. If anyone looked at him, they may not have thought that he was coming close to his own death. He even let out a quiet as it appeared that Valentino had finished with his speech. However, Ramsay was wrong to think that – Valentino had some last words for him. Words that Ramsay was definitely not expecting.

The mention of Dylan had Ramsay reeling, and he snapped out of his bored disposition, staring Valentino right in the eye. At first, he refused to believe the student, firm in the belief that Dylan wouldn't sell him out like that, not to an annoying brat like Valentino. But then, as Valentino continued, that belief began to crumble into rage and betrayal, and Ramsay wanted to do nothing more than kill Valentino and throttle Dylan. How could he be so idiotic? Ramsay had told him countless times not to say anything about the gang to people outside of it, and what does he do when Ramsay isn't looking? The gangster was beyond angered now, his bared teeth and knitted brow showing that more than clearly. He pulled against the binding on his wrists, rocked against the beam, but there was no budging from where he was.

As Valentino finished his speech with an almost sing-song note, Ramsay lurched forward as far as his restraints would allow and growled, "you little bastard!" He was seething, and if it were possible, he would be frothing at the mouth like a wild dog. His eyes shifted over to Alexander as he stood languidly in the background, and then they moved back to the student in front of him. "You won't be going out with Dylan because you won't even make it out of the front door of this place. They'll kill you, you know. That's what they do. They killed one of their own – they killed his boyfriend, so what do you think they'll do to a little fucker like you?"

"Shut up, Dillon!" Alexander exclaimed, jolting out of the darkness and storming over to Ramsay. He leaned down in front of his rival, their gazes locked, like a bull and a matador. "You don't know anything about that, and you're just lying. You killed Mason, you and your tribe of animals."

"Do you even remember where he was killed? Wasn't in my neighbourhood, you pompous twat. Oh, wasn't it..." Ramsay looked away, then met Alexander's eyes once again, "yes, it was right outside your dad's house."

"That doesn't mean anything. One of your moronic cronies could have still been behind it. I wouldn't be surprised if one of your kind was skulking around outside of my father's home."

Ramsay laughed, the sound bellowing throughout the basement. "You might think we're stupid, but we're not stupid enough to hang around Royal territory at night, especially not right outside your dad's house." Turning his head to look at Valentino, Ramsay grinned. "You better leave while you still can, otherwise they'll murder you in cold blood on his doorstep."

A hard smack resounded through the basement. Alexander stood frozen, arm still in the air from where he had backhanded Ramsay across the face. It felt as if time had stopped, the two men stuck in place. But then, Ramsay inched his head back around, glaring at Alexander. His face was fixed into a scowl, eyes ready to kill. And then, the corners of his lips turned upwards. He smiled. Then he laughed once more. Alexander did nothing except watch him, disbelief washing over his face. He stared at Ramsay as if he were some unidentified object, some unknown species of animal. Gradually he lowered his arm and stood upright, gaze still transfixed on Ramsay. Alexander took a deep breath, closed his eyes. Exhaled. And still, Ramsay laughed. Though the sound soon died down, leaving only Alexander's heavy breathing in it's wake.

"What are you doing, your zen meditation techniques?" Ramsay mocked, ignoring the stinging in his cheek and smirking as if he hadn't just been struck hard across the face. Alexander didn't respond to him, instead taking one last deep breath and releasing it, before opening his eyes.

"I won't give in to you," Alexander told him after a second or two of silence. "You want me to kill you out of rage, so the end won't be as delicious. But I won't do that Dillon. You won't make me. And you will not hurt me again by using Mason."

"I can't hurt you using Mason," Ramsay replied, unable to contain his smugness at what he was about to say. "Because the bastard's dead. You saw them bury him. You stood there with the people who killed him, and you watched him get buried."

Alexander shook his head. Looking over to Valentino, he let out a long exhale. "Valentino, do you--"

The door at the top of the basement stairs shot open, and the stairs creaked under the brisk weight of a group of men. Alexander turned to look over, brow furrowed. He had told no one to enter unless he allowed them to, so what was the meaning of this? However, when he saw who was leading the charge, he immediately realised what was going on.

"Alex," said the elderly man at the head of the group of Royals. His face read like a passive-aggressive letter, and he fixed Alexander with a pointed look. "What did I tell you about doing all of this here." He waved his gloved hands around the basement, gesturing at Ramsay and then pointing at Valentino.

"Father, I--"

"No, Alex. I don't want to hear it. I thought I taught you well, but apparently I was wrong. You could have made a fatal mistake." Mr. Fournier glanced over at Valentino, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses. "Though it seems you have made a rather damaging one already."

If he could, Alex would have explained himself. But his father would have none of it, and he wasn't willing to test the old man's patience. Especially not when he had his own 'personal guard' crowded behind him. Meanwhile, Ramsay was looking on with unabashed amusement, not quite believing what he was witnessing.

"Now, why don't you leave," Mr. Fournier told Valentino through raspy and jagged tones, nodding in the direction of the stairs. "Before I have to forcefully remove you from my son's home. It looks like there's plenty of men up there that would be willing to help with that."

Alexander looked to Valentino, worry creeping into his eyes. "Go," he whispered to the young man, willing him through his expression to leave as soon as he could.​

​
 
As he waited for the penny to drop after the revelation about Dylan, Valentino did notice just how quiet Alexander had become. He was hardly an outlandish, overly loud character anyway, but for him to have suddenly become so silent did capture Valentino's attention, causing him to break the smug interaction with Ramsay in order to cast the other man a cautious glance. He didn't want to be seen to be worried or concerned about him, but he did see him as an acquaintance of sorts. Hell, he did think of Alexander as a sort of friend, albeit an unconventional one who he probably wouldn't have any contact with after this ordeal was over.

Like Alexander, Valentino did ponder that realisation inwardly, his smug smirk flickering faintly at knowing that, after all of this, he probably wouldn't see Alexander again. In truth, in spite of knowing he ought to be glad of it, it didn't make him relieved. He had grown to like the other, as much as he didn't want to... but he did.

However, his dwellings on the subject did end the moment he was brought back to reality. He had remained dazed during Ramsay's vitriolic outburst, and simply stared at him with no real expression or reaction given his silent introspection (unfortunately, given he would revel in the sight of having pissed off the man). Yet, he was brought back the second Alexander stormed into the conversation with his own axe to grind with Ramsay.

Now, Valentino had previously thought positively concerning Alexander. Hell, it wasn't even five seconds prior that he was anxiously biting on his lip in the knowledge that he had, against his better judgement, grown fond of Alexander and didn't entirely want to leave his company. However, hearing the onslaught of revelations concerning this 'Mason' character did irk and irritate Valentino. He didn't find the fact that Alexander lost his boyfriend all that amusing, and nor did he enjoy the possibility that the fault lay at Alexander's father's hands (he did think that it was plausible, no matter how fiercely Alex argued against it), but the one thing that angered him the most was that Alex hadn't told him. Nor had he chosen to mention the possibility of Valentino being killed. He wasn't dating Alex, sure, but Ramsay seemed entirely certain that Valentino's death was nigh... and while he didn't take Ramsay seriously a lot of the time, he did in this instance.

Of course, this was a completely sensitive matter, and he didn't expect Alex to blurt it out to him in their first five seconds of meeting one another-- but he did think he deserved to know about that, and the potential death that Valentino faced for being in the house too. After all, he had been forced and almost felt demanded to tell Alexander about his life and his meeting with Ramsay. In all honesty, he had been infuriated upon recollecting his meeting with the gang leader, and it didn't have any positive effect on him by talking about it, but he had for Alexander's benefit, to keep him in the loop, because in his eyes, they were working alongside one another, and openness, trust and transparency were important.

Now that this had come to light about Mason, Valentino did think that he had been used in many ways. Clearly, to him, he and Alexander weren't on the same page, and the feeling of being treated as just another little and disposable informant... hurt him. Frankly, it may have been rather childish, but he didn't entirely care about helping Alexander a second further, hence why his angry glare did leave Ramsay and focussed itself on the other instead.

"Don't talk to me. I think you're honestly worse than Ramsay is. At least he's open enough to tell me he hates me. Most people tend to hate me. Your little friends hate me-- you, though? I thought you liked me enough to treat me with sincerity, but hey, you're just another pathetic creep of a criminal, aren't you? You disguise it with fancy clothes and this smart house, but you're just another rat in this disgusting city," he seethed the moment the other glanced to him and mentioned his name, turning away with a furious frown and he would have happily continued his lamentations... if it wasn't for the disturbance and the interjection from Alexander's father.

Valentino, as was made perfectly obvious by his attitude to Ramsay and currently with Alexander, didn't feel he had to be frightened of anybody, or that he had to fear anyone. And despite the instant panic he noted in Alex's body language, he didn't replicate that in his own. He, as stupid as it may have been, instead stood as nonchalantly as he normally stood, folding his arms and examining the situation until he was referenced and turned to by the man.

"Oh, trust me, I want nothing more than to leave," he admitted. Now that he felt almost cheated by Alexander, and used purely for what he knew rather than being treated as a friend, he wanted to hightail it out of the home and away from everything he had been involved in. However, the one thing that was preventing him from leaving was Ramsay. He had sacrificed everything to get back at him, and to reap some revenge, and like hell was he willing to leave without seeing him roughed up a bit.

However, he was wise enough to know that he stood no chance in staying when he wasn't wanted. But if that was the case, then he wasn't going to allow them to rough Ramsay up either. He would quite happily ruin everything he and Alexander worked on purely out of spite.

"I'll leave, and I assume you're going to let Ramsay go too? I'd quite like you to let him go, actually," he spoke calmly, responding to Alexander's plea with a roll of his eyes, and a venomous glance. "I understand that I'm playing with fire. I'm not an idiot, but nor am I a coward. You can kill me, sure. You can torture me, you can get me forcibly removed-- but if the latter, the first place I intend to go is to my father. I'll happily confess that I wouldn't follow this little, unspoken gangster codes about loyalty. I'll gladly grass you all up and become a snitch if need be. Yeah, you'll all stand no chance of going to jail with your lawyers, but the publicity won't help you, will it? So... I'll leave quietly with Ramsay in tow, hm? Or just hurry up and kill me now. I don't like drama, and I've come to terms with dying early by getting involved with your son, so if you want to kill me, go for it."

Finishing with his signature smirk on his lips, he did feel more than proud with himself. He had fully anticipated being killed for his speech, and for his outlandish demands that he be let out only if Ramsay could too, but if he was going to die, he would rather go out feeling proud of himself, and for never backing down to anyone. If he had to die, then sticking up for himself in front of someone with considerable power was a pretty decent way to leave.​
 

As much as Alexander hated to admit it, Valentino's words had stung him. In his mind, there was no reason to discuss Mason. What had happened to him was not caused by the Royals, not in Alex's mind. And no matter how much Ramsay tried to outwit him, lashing back with answers to every doubt that there was, Alex wouldn't believe that his gang could do something like that. They could be moronic at times, but he didn't want to think of them as capable of killing someone close to him. Why would they do that? It didn't make any sense, not to Alexander. His world was a dark one, one filled with many twists, but something like that...he wasn't willing to accept it, at least not as Ramsay was presenting it. Though there was no time for any more arguing – not now. The situation had become somehow worse with the arrival of Alexander's father, and it seemed it could only get even more dire.

Mr. Fournier stared pointedly at Valentino, noticing the lack of any major fear in his expression. This young man was something else. Most people showed at least a hint of anxiety whenever the man entered the scene, throwing around orders and expressing his displeasure at something. But Valentino was standing strong – stronger than Alexander was. His father could see it in his eyes, the worry and anxiety concerning what was to come. And then he looked past the two of them to Ramsay, and was unsurprised to see a look of pure amusement on his face. This must have looked like some kind of reality TV show to him, and if Valentino wasn't around, Mr. Fournier was sure he would try to wipe that smirk off of Ramsay's face.

As Valentino began to speak, Mr. Fournier returned his attention to the student, arching an eyebrow at the calmness in his voice. He really wasn't afraid. That was something new, for certain. Though he preferred the calm. It was much better than heated arguments and barked orders, and a lot less taxing on him. He may have been a gangster, but his age was catching up with him, much to his chagrin. As Valentino continued on, Fournier tilted his head to the side slightly, eyes narrowing just a bit and the corner of his lips turning upward ever so slowly. This kid was smart, smarter than most of the Royals, it seemed. Though Fournier could also play that game, and he knew how to make intelligent decisions. Unlike my son, it seems, he thought to himself as he took a couple of steps closer to Valentino. The smirk on the young man's lips said it all. Maybe he thought he knew what was going to happen, but that was only because he had never dealt with someone like Fournier.

"You're right, Mr. De Montfort, it would be bad for our publicity if you spoke to your father about all of this," he began, smiling softly. "But hopefully, none of this will come to light once you and Mr. Dillon walk out of the front door. As long as you don't speak about all of this, then there won't be any need for early deaths – not yet, anyway. Us Fourniers know what it means to show respect to other high-standing families." Fournier's gaze flickered over to Alexander, and then shifted back to Valentino. "You're a brave young man. If only more people were like you."

Turning to look at the guards who were stood nearby, Fournier gestured over at Ramsay. Two of the men followed his silent orders, marching over to the gangster and releasing him of his bonds. Though before he could move another muscle, they were dragging him up to his feet, leading him past Alexander, who had stood in place for the most part, as silent as could be. He only moved a few steps away from Ramsay, who was now face-to-face with Fournier.

"I don't want to hear of any trouble from you," Fournier told Ramsay, pointing an accusatory finger at the man.

Ramsay merely laughed. "I'm not the one who kidnapped an unsuspecting person." He glanced at Valentino, then to Alexander.

"That matter will be dealt with," Fournier replied. "But you're not an innocent bystander who got caught in the crossfire. Alexander will be spoken to, and I want you to keep a handle on everything you're doing as well. Lie low for the next couple of weeks – it could do you some good."

"Sure," Ramsay spat, his smirk now gone and replaced with the look of a scolded child. The two men holding him in place released their hold on him, and Ramsay instinctively flinched away from them. He looked over at Valentino once more, grinning again.

"Lead them out," Fournier said to the group of men that had come with him down to the basement. He stepped out of the way and they did as he told, staying close to Ramsay and Valentino and leading them out of the basement. The stairs creaked with every step, and Ramsay wondered if they would collapse. Probably not, he thought. There must be gold bars or something underneath them keeping the stairs up. Before they reached the top of the stairs, Ramsay looked down to try and see Alexander, but all he saw was a weak figure in the shadows. The Royals were still lingering around the house, though this time they looked less like predators and more like prey. Most looked away from Valentino and Ramsay, and those who dared to glance at the duo did so for only a second before averting their eyes. The short walk from the basement stairs to the front door felt like an eternity, and the feeling of the fresh air against his skin when he walked out onto the front steps made Ramsay feel like a newly-released convict. He looked back into the house, only to be nudged away and further down the front steps by a man almost twice his size.

"No need to shove," he grumbled, descending the steps and waiting at the bottom of them. Looking around, he was somewhat amazed at the number of cars that were parked up, most of them no doubt belonging to the multitude of Royals inside the house. Once both Ramsay and Valentino were down the front steps and onto the pavement, their escorts began to disperse.

"Go," one of them said, waving his hand as if the two of them were unwanted stray dogs. "Don't come around here again unless told to." With that, he went back inside, slamming the door shut. Ramsay's gaze lingered there for a moment, staring in silence. And then he turned his attention back to Valentino.

"So," he began, "that was fun." It was as if the entire kidnapping hadn't happened. His smirk made him look like the most amused man alive, and at a first glance, it appeared he couldn't care less about everything Valentino had said to him in the basement. Truth be told, Ramsay did care, but the Fournier family situation had brought his mood right back up. There was no doubt that later on, he would probably explode with rage after recounting everything that the student had said, but right now, Ramsay was far from angry. "What now then?" He asked Valentino. "I don't have a car, you don't have a car – looks like we're walking. And I don't know about you, but I want to get out of here as soon as I can before a sniper starts targeting me or something." He laughed, chuckling as if he hadn't joked about something so dark. He calmed down after a couple of seconds, composing himself. "Where to? I needed to pick up some bread from the cornershop before you decided to abduct me, so that's priority number one for me. And don't you have school to go to? Your little friends must be so worried about you – if you even have friends."​
 
Okay, so he hadn't actually anticipated it working.

Not in a million years would he have ever, ever envisioned himself managing to slide out of the situation unharmed, and especially not with what appeared to be a compliment from the man, as well as having apparently impressed him in some capacity. Although, the latter wasn't too hard to have imagined occurring. He knew that he appeared to be some pushed-up, narcissistic and completely naive young man, so the moment he stood up for himself it was bound to be surprising.

However, the former -the compliment he appeared to gain as a result- did, in turn, surprise the usually indifferent student. He was brave? Well, clearly in some capacity that was true. He had just opened his mouth up and stood his ground against someone who he knew was dangerous. If he needed first hand evidence of that, Alexander's earlier desperation for Valentino to leave while he could was all the evidence he needed. Thankfully, he hadn't listened to him. If he had, he would have appeared a scared coward, looking for the easy way out, instead of someone who the man had called brave.

Valentino did like his ego pampered, granted, but he tried not to show his delight at the compliment too much, simply offering a thin-lipped smile and shuffling to the side a little to watch as Ramsay was tugged to his feet. He knew how idiotic he would look if he began to gush his thank yous-- and frankly? He didn't want to be seen as anything less than the character he had built up. It helped to keep his emotions at bay because, beneath the stern facade, he was hurt. He liked Alexander a great deal -at least, he did- and so knowing that this was potentially their last meeting, no matter what he felt Alexander had done to him? It hurt - but hey, he could get over it.

He wanted nothing more to do with this life. It was too stressful and far too lowly for someone like him. Sure, it was fun and addictive, and he did think he was good at getting what he wanted. Didn't the situation at hand just prove that? He had successfully managed to get him and Ramsay out of the home. However good at it he was, though, he did feel that returning to normality was the wisest choice. Perhaps not the most exhilarating one, but at least it wouldn't get him prematurely killed.

Remaining quiet until hitting the now bright and somewhat harsh morning sunlight outside, he briefly smiled to himself as he outstretched his stiff arms until hearing a satisfying crack. He didn't appreciate much in life, and especially not that of nature given how materialistic he unashamedly was, but he had to admit that the sun hitting the nearby trees was particularly beautiful--

The only irritating thing that ruined the beauty was Ramsay's presence. Reminding himself he was sharing the space with the gangster, he shot him a sharp glare and made a point of rolling his eyes to indicate the tedium he felt.

"Let's set the record straight, Dillon. I wouldn't have had to resort to working with that miserable coward Alexander if you hadn't invaded my personal space and made it your pathetic mission to torment me. If you'd left me alone, none of this would have happened. I think you ought to thank me, actually. Without me, you'd still be stuck in there," he reminded casually, albeit with his usual smirk of self-entitlement-- although, in conjunction with the sickening smugness was a brief flash of amusement. He had shared it with Alexander, but that hadn't been too shocking when the two had been getting along. With Ramsay, a man he claimed to hate to the point of helping organising his murder? It was a little surprising.

"I'd rather poke my eyes out than walk with you, but I have no choice. I imagine you'll beat me up or leave me for dead during the walk, but I couldn't care less right now. Today's been utter shit," he seethed, a rare cuss leaving his lips if only to indicate the exhaustion he was now marred with... as well as the upset from the predicament with Alexander. "If you could just prevent taunting me, I'd be relatively happy. Considering I saved your ass back there, the least you could do is, you know, stop taking digs at me? I have friends. I have plenty of friends. Alexander was a friend, until he showed his true colours. He's nothing more than a snivelling creep who I presume runs to Daddy when he's in trouble? Whatever, I just... my plan of action is to get breakfast. Some nice waffles drizzled in Belgian chocolate..."

Smiling briefly to himself at the vision of food in his mind -he did tend to overindulge when he was upset-, it was ended when glancing back at Ramsay at one of his comments. Again, the rare smile of amusement broke on his expression, the corners of his lips rising into a bemused smirk.

"Oh, get real, Dillon. Bread? You were never getting bread. I can't imagine you'd get up that early in the morning for a loaf of bread. What were you getting? Drugs? A gun? Some cash?" He quickly snorted, happy to tease and taunt him despite his plea to not be taunted himself. It was one rule for himself, and another rule for others. "I bet you do drugs, don't you? What's that one everyone smokes? Weed, right? Everyone at university smokes it, it's awfully grim..."​
 

As Valentino 'set the record straight', Ramsay listened with a smirk on his lips, looking completely unfazed by what the student was saying. When he suggested that Ramsay ought to thank him, the gangster let out a chuckle, shaking his head as he looked at Valentino. The smugness on the young man's face was something that Ramsay despised, though he didn't let it sour his mood. He continued to grin right back at Valentino, raising an eyebrow as he thought over his words. "Do you really think I'm going to thank you?" He questioned, amusement heavy in his voice. "You might like to think that you helped me out, but honestly, I would have gotten out of there whether you said anything or not. There's a lot more politics in this world than you'd think."

When Valentino continued to speak, Ramsay rolled his eyes and strolled down the street, expecting the student to follow. "Ha!" He exclaimed upon hearing the comment that he could beat up Valentino or leave him for dead. Though he didn't say anything more, allowing him to finish. However, there was one thing that Valentino said that Ramsay had to remark on. "Of course you have friends," he drawled, words dripping with sarcasm. What Valentino had to say about Alexander made Ramsay grin more though, and he let the rich kid speak. 'Snivelling creep' was not a term he would use to describe Alexander, but it was good to hear him being slandered by someone who barely knew him. He had a few words of his own to describe Alexander, but he wouldn't say them now – especially not whilst they were still in Royals territory. Glancing around, Ramsay was glad to see no familiar faces. It seemed the Royals were true to their words this time. Though how long that would last, Ramsay wasn't sure.

All thoughts of Alexander and the Royals were pushed to the back of Ramsay's mind when waffles were mentioned. He perked up a bit more, looking over at Valentino with an expression of interest on his face. He wasn't one for extravagant breakfasts – some bacon and eggs, or even just a few slices of toast, were enough for him on most days – but with hunger burning deep within Ramsay's stomach, he didn't care whether the food was too excessive for him or not. Anything worked, and waffles with Belgian chocolate sounded more than good right then. Maybe he could go and get waffles from...somewhere. He didn't know of any places that sold them, at least not in his immediate area.

Of course, he needed his bread first. In fact, when Valentino expressed disbelief that Ramsay really was going out early to buy bread. For someone who had asked not to be taunted, Valentino certainly did like to dish out the snappy remarks. Letting out a sigh at the conclusions that Valentino had jumped to, Ramsay knew that he had to prove the student wrong. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a scrunched-up piece of paper. Straightening it out a bit, Ramsay held it up for Valentino to see. The words 'remember to get bread' were scrawled on it, and underlined more than a few times. "See?" He said, giving Valentino an accusatory glare. "Sometimes I'm normal. I don't always go out early to get drugs or guns. I just need to get bread and milk every week, so I go out early to avoid the rest of the general public." Tucking the piece of paper back into his pocket, Ramsay fixed Valentino with a glare and then went back to his usual amused expression. "Besides, I don't do weed. It's not my style. Alcohol is good enough for me." Not all gangsters were the same, after all. Ramsay was never someone who did drugs. He had no issue with dealing drugs, or using someone else to carry them around, but doing them? That was something Ramsay just didn't do, not now that he was older. The novelty of drugs and everything 'taboo' had worn off for him, and alcohol was all that remained a vice for the gang leader. Speaking of age, Ramsay thought back on how Valentino had spoken about drugs, and couldn't help but laugh. "Are you sure you're a university student? You sound like an old man."

As they walked, Ramsay had subconsciously led them to the cornershop. Nearing the car park where he had just been kidnapped earlier that morning, Ramsay felt a sense of rage building up within him. However, he kept it contained for the most part, only falling silent for a couple of minutes as they walked past. "Believe me now?" He finally said as he came to stop outside the cornershop. "Do you want to come in with me, or am I so awful that you don't want to be seen with me? Just don't walk off if you do stay out here." Ramsay smirked, and then entered the shop without even waiting for Valentino to respond. He was quick, only grabbing the usual brand of bread he got and paying for it with a knowing efficiency. He didn't want to linger too long in this area, the fresh memories of what had happened in the car park still weighing on his mind. "Let's get out of here," he said as he left the shop, plastic bag with his purchase in hand. With his main task of the day done, there wasn't much left for him to do except deal with any issues his subordinates brought up. And despite what may have been best, Ramsay didn't want to tell them about the entire abduction today. He needed a moment to soak everything in, to make sure he didn't do anything rash. The last thing he wanted to do was draw the ire of a no doubt frustrated Alexander and his Royals.

"Oi, piglet," Ramsay began. "Where can I get waffles from?" The question sounded weird coming out of the gangster's mouth, as if he had never said those words before. "All of your talk about them has me craving some. And if anyone knows where to get them, I'm sure it's a little rich kid like you. Unless you want to go and get them with your 'friends'." Ramsay smirked at his taunting, waiting for Valentino to respond. Why Ramsay wanted to be around Valentino any more was somewhat of a mystery, but a part of him did want to continue speaking to the kid. Of course, he wanted to warn Valentino not to speak of what had happened today, but he also just wanted to stick around, maybe get free food out of him. And obviously, he had to make sure that the Royals didn't get to Valentino any more. No one else was going to get to him except Ramsay – that was something the gangster was sure of.​
 
While he was happy and content enough to drone on and on about insulting Alexander and refuting their genuine friendship, and brave enough to insult Ramsay as he trudged alongside him, he wasn't too fond of witnessing Ramsay's amused reactions.

Okay, so pissing him off wasn't wise, and even though he was far from scared of him, Valentino knew that, for the duration of the walk, it would probably be best to simply keep Ramsay on side, not irritate him in the slightest, and then simply walk away in the hope of never seeing him or being involved in anything gang-related again. It was exciting and all, but focussing on being a normal, university student would benefit him more in the long run. This dark, dangerous, adrenaline-fuelled world wasn't for him, even if he thought he could excel in it. Hadn't he proved that he could already?

The only real thing he had learned was that he didn't have to fear anyone. When he first met Ramsay, he may have made some smart remarks and received the unwanted attention from the gangster, but he realised upon reflection that he had been petrified. He had been worried that a knife or a gun would be pulled out, and that his life would be ended. Now, however, after going through all he had gone through, Valentino had learned the value of not showing anyone the satisfaction of looking scared and fearful, like a rabbit moments before being mauled by a cunning fox. No, if death was a possibility, he wanted to go out proud of himself... and having annoyed his killer by not bowing down in fear.

He had done that back in Alexander's home, and that had worked out perfectly for him. If he hadn't, would he really be walking along with a skip in his step and relishing the thought of tucking into some warm waffles? He knew he would have been let out, but perhaps with a feeling of anxiousness and dread: a feeling that could be summarised as feeling weak, and not strong.

"You seriously were just getting bread?" He blurted, being brought back to his daydreaming thoughts when a note was effectively shoved under his nose, eyeing the harsh lines underneath the self-reminder. Valentino had always grown up struggling to hide his emotions. If he was sad, it was obvious. Likewise, if he was annoyed, that was rather blatant, and being proven wrong with Ramsay being able to prove himself otherwise left a sour taste in his mouth... and a sour expression across his handsome features. "Whatever. Go get your bread then."

Now, this would have been the perfect opportunity for Valentino to leave. No matter what Ramsay had asked of him, Valentino could have easily disobeyed and wandered off home without even thinking twice about Ramsay. He wouldn't need to contact him again, and could effectively avoid him as long as he could. This could have been their last meeting, and if this had been a few days prior, he would never have wasted a chance like this. The moment Ramsay's back was turned, Valentino would have scarpered off home and cracked open some champagne.

However, when Ramsay stepped out, there was Valentino, having waited for him and turned to walk back alongside him again. He didn't really know why he had bothered waiting, and nor did he know why he had automatically smiled when Ramsay came out of the shop, but he had, and he was... enjoying his company, if only a little. With Alexander, it wasn't all that surprising that he had become his friend. They had a common goal; a target that they had both devoted themselves too. Valentino had been outspoken enough to apparently amuse Alexander, and the two had formed some sort of friendship off the back of it. In contrast, Ramsay was a man that Valentino had woken up that day hoping to see die. He had wanted to kill him himself even, and in some brutal, horrific way. There was no reason to want to remain in his company a second longer, but he did. He could justify it by perhaps wanting to make sure his safety was guaranteed, or perhaps being able to tease him while he still could... but he knew those were just excuses.

Groaning in annoyance with himself for looking at Ramsay and not being filled with utter disgust (dread and annoyance, perhaps, but not overwhelming hatred), he did perch up an eyebrow when waffles were brought into conversation. Ramsay had his own reasons for wanting Valentino to stick around further, and the student automatically assumed none of them to be good, but the opportunity to have this over him was too good to pass up.

Should Ramsay annoy him in future, he had the card in the back of his pocket that they had shared some elaborate, fancy breakfast together. That probably wouldn't settle well with a few people Ramsay shared company with, would it?

"Oh, don't lie. Waffles sound amazing, but you want to share more time with me. You're coming to realise that I'm rather good company, aren't you? Do you like me, Ramsay? Let me savour this moment, my goodness. You actually don't hate me, do you?" He began to gush, placing a hand dramatically over his heart, and with a faux flutter of his eyelids for good measure, before letting the little production fade with a loud snort. "I know the best place to get waffles, Dixon. I suppose I can treat you to a proper meal, assuming this guarantees you don't strangle me half to death again. You know, I'm sure you must like me in some capacity. You can't stop being close to me - you sneak into my apartment when I happen to be half-naked, you pounce on top of me when a punch would have done... Do you think I'm cute?" He continued teasingly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans while awaiting what he assumed would be a disgusted and infuriated response. It was what he expected, and what he wanted - he wanted Ramsay flustered and annoyed with him. It was amusing and it at least showed that he wasn't scared of him.

He was teasing him and taunting him endlessly... even though what were poisonous snaps and venomous snarls a few hours ago had become jokey remarks that would be shared between friends; not two men who would claim hatred of one another if ever asked.​
 

Ramsay had been somewhat amazed by the show of emotions from Valentino when he had surprised the student with the reveal that bread really was what he had been after that morning. But what had taken the gangster aback even more was the smile on Valentino's face when he exited the cornershop. Seeing the student wearing a smile was not something Ramsay was used to, especially not when the two of them were in each other's proximities. So seeing Valentino's lips upturned, clear emotion on his face, was not a sight that Ramsay was prepared for. Thankfully, he hid most of his surprise at the gesture, and focussed on the matter of breakfast.

However, it seemed Valentino wanted to shift the conversation in another direction. The young man's over-dramatic display was far from appreciated, and Ramsay made sure to scowl with a vengeance at him as he listened to what Valentino had to say. To be honest, Ramsay didn't know what he felt for Valentino. When they had first met, he did hate him, and with good reason. Valentino was associated with one of Ramsay's enemies, and so the hate he held for Valentino's father rubbed off on him as well. And he damn well should have loathed him after the whole kidnapping debacle. But most of that hatred was directed at Alexander and the Royals. Even Ramsay could understand the influence that people like Alexander had, and he suspected that there must have been some kind of subtle manipulation involved when getting Valentino on board with the abduction plan. Or maybe the weight of the issue hadn't sunk in yet, and soon that crushing hatred for Valentino would register in Ramsay's mind. But right then, he didn't exactly loathe the student. It was more of a 'dislike', and perhaps even a bit of sympathy that he had been so drawn in by Alexander and whatever stories he had spun.

But of course, he was adamant when addressing the situation out loud. No uncertainty would seep into his voice when he spoke about all of this. "I don't like you," Ramsay replied, brow knitted together as he stared at Valentino. "You're not the best company I've had, but someone who knows where to get good waffles is better than no one. Besides, you owe me considering you just kidnapped me." Ramsay allowed Valentino to continue, though he couldn't help but roll his eyes as the Valentino continued to insinuate many things that just weren't true. "Don't get so full of yourself," Ramsay remarked once Valentino had finished, the gangster noticeably avoiding the jokey question that had been asked. Ramsay was more than aware that he was probably playing right into Valentino's hands, but old habits died hard, and he needed to defend himself. "Not everyone thinks you're cute, you know. Believe it or not, I wasn't trying to flirt with you when I broke into your house and tried to strangle you. If anything, maybe you think I'm cute, considering you're the one teasing me here." Allowing a smirk to form on his lips, Ramsay snickered and then looked away from Valentino, staring off down the street. "And it's Dillon by the way – not Dixon, Val."

Ramsay didn't know where it had come from, but he suddenly felt more jovial than he had done earlier. All of this teasing and joking must have been affecting him positively, as he could feel his mood being lifted more as they continued to walk. It all seemed so odd – but then again, it wasn't as if he considered Valentino to be his biggest enemy. There were others far ahead of the student on Ramsay's hit list. Compared to some of those names, Valentino might as well have been Ramsay's best friend. This kind of attitude was not how he would have treated his most hated rivals, so clearly Valentino wasn't someone he loathed all that much. That was a fact that genuinely surprised Ramsay, considering everything that had happened leading up to this moment in time. Though what shocked the gangster even more was when he began to joke about what had happened moments before.

"I bet you wouldn't have killed me," he said, grinning from ear to ear. "You probably don't even know how to kill someone. Do you think it's as easy as pulling a trigger or stabbing someone?" He laughed, and then continued with his morbid words. "It's so much more than that. It's brutal. You have to look into their eyes, you have to listen to them die. There's no way you would have killed me back there. I know you might like to think you could have, but you wouldn't." It was then that Ramsay remembered the cut above his eyebrow, and he reached up, his fingers coming away with only a few specks of blood on them. The wound was closing up, thank God. He didn't want to walk into a nice restaurant with blood dripping down his face, now did he? "Hurting people is easy – killing them isn't. Remember that the next time you want to get messed up in all of this shit I call paradise."

Then, he moved back to the main issue at hand. "Now, are you going to show me where to get good waffles or what?" The slight harshness of the question was overruled by the smirk on Ramsay's face. It was his turn to fool around now. "Or are you going to start teasing me again? I bet you're the one who really likes my company. I'm sure I'm right up your alley. What do they say? Rugged good looks, 'bad boy' attitude. No wonder you're obsessed with me, I'm just too much for you to handle." A throaty laugh escaped Ramsay, and his eyes lit up with amusement as he looked at Valentino. He couldn't imagine that the young man appreciated what he was saying, but that was too bad – if Valentino got to tease Ramsay, then he should have expected the gang leader to bite right back with his own joking words.​
 
Now, Valentino, underneath the whole flirtatious bravado and daring taunts, did somewhat anticipate an outraged reaction. He wasn't just insinuating that the man liked his company, but was making an unsubtle attempt of linking his actions over the last few days to a romantic motive. Did he believe it? Not at all. He knew Ramsay had spent days hating his guts and wanting to see Valentino beaten to a bloody black and blue pulp, but twisting the actions to poke fun at the man and taunt him was some form of entertainment.

Besides, Valentino didn't really want to spend the breakfast with someone who glowered and glared at him. He wanted the time to at least be spent in his jovial mood, and teasing Ramsay seemed to be best, assuming the man could take it.

Like Ramsay, his own feelings were confusing at the moment. He felt he didn't like the man all that much. He wasn't on his Christmas card list, anyway. But, similarly, he didn't hate him as much as he had done that morning. His feelings concerning Ramsay were difficult to understand and analyse, so as far as Valentino was concerned, they were just best off being left alone and not examined. The longer he tried to inspect them and come up with a clear conclusion on just how he saw Ramsay, he would be left with a headache and a sense of irritation at the lack of clarity. Leaving it alone and just taking the flow, as uncharacteristic as it was for him, was the best path to follow.

To his relief (and his amusement), Ramsay didn't respond with total disgust, and nor did he physically hurt Valentino for the light insinuations he had made. Even though Valentino could give and rarely take, he did grin wider at the teasing back. He had underestimated Ramsay's likeability. He was confused as to how he felt, but his earlier astonishment on how Ramsay even had friends was blown out of the water. The gangster was good fun when he wanted to be, and even if there was still some dislike between them, they could at least leave it aside for the morning to poke fun at one another, couldn't they?

"Oh, everyone finds me attractive. I'm half Italian. I think I'm exotic for a boring city like this. I don't know your sexuality, and nor do I entirely care, but I'm sure you must find me, in some capacity, attractive. Everyone does. You're only human," he beamed, deliberately accentuating his high sense of self. Hell, it at least showed he could tease himself. He knew he was sickeningly pretentious, so insulting that himself wasn't a problem. As long as nobody else targeted it, he could joke about it with ease.

Although, he did rile a little at the taunts aimed at him. He had been certain that he could kill Ramsay if he had wanted... and his naivety did show through when he had believed that simply pointing a gun and shooting him was enough. Apparently, it wasn't. As annoying as he found it to be, given he liked to be the expert on everything he came across, he knew Ramsay probably had far more experience than he did when it came to killing people. As such, the young student, to his chagrin, grumpily shrugged and trudged towards his usual diner up ahead. "I suppose I wouldn't have had the guts to kill you, no. But that's because I'm so utterly obsessed with you, aren't I? You do have that bad boy thing going on, and I'm just so besotted with you that I couldn't have seen your beautiful face have a bullet shot through it, you're so very correct," he drawled wryly, peering up at him with the faint smirk replacing his childish pout. "Joking aside, I suppose I couldn't have," he finally admitted after a long moment of contemplation. Revealing any weakness to Ramsay wasn't something he had ever imagined doing, but in that moment, he did. He would have boasted about wanting to commit the most violent of acts on Ramsay a few days prior. He would have raved and gloated that he wanted to slice him up, or see his brains splashed on a wall behind him. Now? He did wearily sigh and admit that he couldn't have performed any of those apparent desires. It could come back to bite him if he and Ramsay's ceasefire ended, he knew that... but he didn't at all care.

"I don't think my life would be as entertaining if you died, anyway," he chuckled to himself, gesturing the man into the diner as he strolled in comfortably. He did suit the grand surroundings, even with slightly dishevelled clothing and messy hair. He had frequented the place for years for his breakfast, and even with the company he currently had, he still fitted in perfectly.

Ramsay, on the other hand, stood out like a sore thumb. The clean, white surroundings did contrast to him more than Valentino could imagine, and the looks the gangster garnered from men behind their newspapers were incredibly unsubtle-- though the businessmen disappeared behind their broadsheets at the glare from the young student. Now, by any means, he wasn't defending or protecting Ramsay. At least, he wouldn't claim to be doing that when Ramsay was capable of doing so himself. He just wanted to eat his breakfast without the glances of nosy men.

"Ignore them. Order what you want. I suppose I owe you after earlier's events," he murmured, seating himself in his usual booth by the window... and as far away from everyone else. He wasn't a sociable person, and he did enjoy dining alone without people chattering inanely around him.

"I realise you probably hate me, Ramsay, and I do expect you to beat me up or hurt me in the near future after the kidnapping, and the whole issue with Dylan, but as long as I can enjoy breakfast before that inevitability, I'll be happy... And speaking of Dylan, I... genuinely am sorry," he apologised - another one of many rarities that day. He didn't apologise to many people, if anyone, and one person he hardly wanted to apologise to was Ramsay... but he did feel it was overdue. "If you're going to be mad, be mad at me for that. Dylan's... not to insult him, but he's rather naive. I don't think you ought to be angry at him-- and he did defend you constantly when we talked, may I add. You can yell at me to your heart's content, but I suppose I'm... apologetic for that. It was devious and... ugh... out of order, alright?"

​
 
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Ramsay couldn't help but scoff at Valentino's assumption that everyone was attracted to him. He could sense that the student was exaggerating at least a bit, and so the gangster wouldn't be as harsh on him, but it was still something to laugh at. He looked Valentino over, then rolled his eyes. There were many words to describe Valentino, but Ramsay wouldn't have used 'exotic'. But at least the kid could joke around at his own expense, even if Ramsay sensed that there was a bit too much truth to his own words and thoughts. Still, it wasn't a crime to be up yourself – if it was, the Fournier family would probably all be serving life sentences in jail, where they belonged.

Though Alexander and the rest of the Fourniers were soon pushed to the back of Ramsay's mind as Valentino openly admitted that he probably wouldn't have been able to kill the gang leader, despite how much he believed he could before. The joking was enough to make Ramsay smirk, and a hint of satisfaction brewed within him as Valentino admitted that he was naïve in thinking he could end Ramsay's life. He could mask it with teasing all he wanted, but the confession was there in plain sight, and it was something that Ramsay had not expected to see. Though of course, he was quick to put up a front. "Knew it," he remarked. "That's how I get people like you – render you useless with my obvious rugged charm so you lose the guts to kill me if things get messy." He chuckled, and then grinned as Valentino noted that his life would most likely be a lot less entertaining without the gangster. "You're acting as if we've known each other for years," Ramsay replied as he entered the diner that Valentino had pointed out to him. Though that fact didn't really trouble Ramsay. Often times, he would feel unsettled if someone were to act so comfortable around him, especially someone who didn't know him very well. But this whole jovial mood that he had found himself in with Valentino didn't leave him feeling cold.

Though what did make him somewhat uncomfortable was the diner that he had just stepped into. Well, it was less 'discomfort' and more 'agitation' that he was feeling. Irritation at the surroundings, and particularly at the customers who were eyeing him with disgust. "Couldn't find anywhere posher?" Ramsay asked, words dripping with sarcasm as he glared at some of the businessmen who had been looking his way. He would have said more, directed his annoyance towards the customers who had made it their business to stare at him, but he imagined that an establishment such as this would not take too kindly to having someone like him shouting at other patrons. So for once, Ramsay kept his mouth shut, resorting to just glaring at those stupid enough to look his way, and hopefully leaving them with a sense of dread.

Seeing and hearing Valentino defend him was not what Ramsay had expected, though he was thankful regardless – not that he would say that out loud. The gangster liked to believe that he could handle himself in most situations, but when he was stuck in a place that was far from what he was used to, it was good to have someone who held more value in his surroundings stand up for him. He sat down opposite Valentino, glad to be far away from everyone else in the diner. "I plan on ordering what I want," Ramsay noted, grabbing a menu from the side and looking it over for some breakfast. However, as soon as he heard Valentino mention Dylan, his eyes were anywhere but the menu in his hands. Gaze locked on the student, Ramsay listened to what he had to say, the taunting he had spewed out earlier still fresh in the gangster's mind. He had to admit that those barbed words had hurt him, if only due to the betrayal he felt from Dylan. Sure, the guy wasn't the smartest member of Ramsay's gang, but they were supposed to be friends. Was he that dense that he didn't think about what revealing important information could mean for the gang? But Ramsay tried to ignore those questions, instead focussing on what Valentino was saying now.

Ramsay expected a lot of things to come out of Valentino's mouth, but an apology was not one of those things. His features softened as the student apologised, and Ramsay was genuinely left at a loss for words. Hearing Valentino admit that he was wrong seemed to come out of left field, and once he was done, Ramsay sat there for a moment, speechless. But he didn't stay that way for long. Pulling himself together, Ramsay decided it was best to respond with something that wasn't shouting, like Valentino had said he could do. "At least you apologised," Ramsay began, sighing quietly. "I guess I can accept it. Dylan should have known better, even if he is a bit naïve, but I'm glad you can at least show some kind of remorse." Ramsay didn't want to get too serious with all of this, so he mustered up a smile. "Just don't do it again – Dylan's easy to take advantage of. If you have to manipulate someone close to me, try targeting someone with more intelligence."

By the time a waiter came over, Ramsay was feeling a bit lighter. There was still the feeling dwelling within him that all of this pleasantness would soon come crashing down later, but for now, he was content with settling for some unexpected amusement. Ramsay ordered some waffles and a coffee, just as he had wanted before they even arrived at the diner, and once Valentino's order was placed, the waiter was gone. Ramsay returned his attention to Valentino, still thinking about their recent conversations. He laughed. "You know, I didn't think you had it in you to apologise," Ramsay said, smirking. "I thought you rich kids were all the same – oblivious to everyone except themselves and whoever is giving them money. But I guess you're not as narrow-minded as that. Still a rich kid though, so you still get flak." There was a pause, and then Ramsay thought of something. He contemplated not saying it, but decided against his better judgement. "You could do something else to make up for this whole kidnapping situation." Even though there was no one around them, Ramsay still lowered his voice. "Why don't you let me see what your dad's got on me. I'm not asking you to keep him off my back, nor am I asking you to lie to him or whatever. But I want to see what information he has on me and my gang. Just a quick look at some files is all I want." Ramsay wondered if Valentino would do that, or if the gangster was pushing his luck. But it was worth a try, even if it was a long shot.​
 
The fact Ramsay had taken the comment on Dylan so well was astounding to the young student. He did anticipate a backlash of some sort, and initially when he spoke, he did notice the jovial mood between them grow a little more tense. Bringing Dylan into the conversation was hardly the best way to continue the surprisingly comfortable mood, but he had felt that the longer the elephant remained in the room, the angrier Ramsay would have been later on when he thought back to everything that had gone on that day.

Valentino's aim was to limit the amount of anger he felt, and subsequently, save his own skin later on. If Ramsay did want some sort of payback, Valentino hoped that by apologising for using Dylan as he had, the revenge acted upon him wouldn't be as severe as it ought to be.

When Ramsay instead responded positively to the apology, and seemed to genuinely accept it, rather than reluctantly through barred teeth, the younger male was unable to stop a relieved grin from spreading on his expression. When he had prepared himself for some hissed cusses and underhand remarks, anything outside of that was a positive-- and so hearing the genuine acceptance was surreal as far as Valentino was concerned.

"I doubt I'll be talking to him again, if you must know. I mean, he's... honestly one of the nicest people I've met, gangster or not. How he's friends with you and in that lifestyle while remaining so kind and considerate is beyond me," he admitted as he kept his eyes and face behind the menu, eventually lowering it to order his own stack of waffles with ice cream... along with a side plate of crispy bacon and hash browns. He didn't entirely care for healthy eating. His mother had insisted all his life that he eat healthily, and he had had to endure his childhood filled with salads and pasta. Even on his birthday, cakes were strictly off the menu-- though he had half a melon with a candle in it, and apparently that could live up to a birthday cake.

It was probably no surprise then that when he became independent and began living by himself that he rebel and eat what he wanted. He didn't work out (any form of exercise he tried his best to avoid), and didn't go anywhere near vegetables or fruit these days, though being graced with a naturally slim figure that didn't seem to deviate or fluctuate did mean in his eyes that he could eat what he wanted and not reap any consequences.

Hence why he was happy to order an admittedly large breakfast for himself. After the childhood he had, his appetite now he was older was rather large, however surprising his friends at university found it.

"I don't think I'll even attempt to manipulate anybody again. I told you, I want no part in this anymore. My life, however boring you find it, is enjoyable. I liked it best when I wasn't peering over my shoulder in fear of being beat up by you. I know we aren't buddies, Ramsay, but I would prefer it if you didn't beat me up any time soon," he muttered as he shut the menu and eased back with his phone on the table, tapping his finger absently against it-- until hearing the smugness in Ramsay's voice and saw it in his expression as he revelled in Valentino's apology still. He didn't regret apologising, because he knew he had to get it out, but he did now regret having apologised before the food had arrived. Being teased like this while he was ravenous wasn't helping ignore his hunger that much.

"I know when I've done wrong. So yes, I'm not just some typical rich kid. I know when I've gone over the line, and an apology has to follow. Even if I'm apologising to a gangster who I assume will hold this over my head for the foreseeable future. What a joy that will be," came the predictably sarcastic retort, albeit said in a dry drawl and with the faintest of smiles. It was easy to get on with Ramsay in this manner - they could both apparently tease the other without anyone taking offence.

Usually when Valentino teased others, they tended to storm off. Either he was hanging around with overly sensitive people, or he was too cruel to them. In truth, it was probably a little of both-- as well as taking into account that Valentino genuinely hated his so-called 'friends'. He only interacted with them for their social standing in society. Interacting with Ramsay, who had no real foot on the upperclass ladder, meant that Valentino didn't need to pretend to be nice to him. Being Ramsay's friend wouldn't get him VIP seats at the opera. However, it did mean Valentino didn't need to be fake, and it did mean he got on with him far better than he did with the people he called his friends.

Now, the mood was jolly enough until Ramsay had spoken of Valentino repaying him with the information contained within the files. Until that was mentioned, Valentino had been on the verge of admitting how much he was enjoying the time together. In many ways, it was a blessing that Ramsay had talked first - as true as Valentino's feelings were about how much he was liking the time spent with the gangster, admitting it openly meant he was opening himself up to be laughed at, and he did want to avoid that.

"You know I can't do that, Ramsay," he spoke after a moment of staring at him in shock. Fiddling with the collar of his jacket to distract himself, he let out a weary laugh. "I mean, if my father found me sneaking into his office, it'd open the can of worms. I'd end up having to admit everything. My time with you, my time with Alexander... I'd rather avoid anything to do with this life. You can't get them yourself, nor can you send anyone in to get them. If you wanted the files, I'd need to go get them myself, wouldn't I? And... fuck, I don't want to get myself caught by my father."

Pursing his lips once he realised he had sworn (he had always found it common and uncouth), he did find himself slightly attracted to the idea. If he did help out, then it would be a chance to clear the slate. Perhaps, in doing this, it would mean Ramsay wouldn't have a motive to go after him in the future. If this was the chance to be able to finish his brief time in the gangster lifestyle, then he would be stupid not to take it.

"You realise this means you have to interact with me again, don't you? I'm sure you're just finding ways of hanging out with me, Ramsay. You can admit that you like my company without concocting such an extravagant way of spending time with me," he quietly remarked in his now typically teasing manner, easing back in delight once the waitress returned with his vast breakfast, reaching immediately for the calorific milkshake he had ordered. "I'll help you out, sure. But I want this to mean that you won't attack me, or tease me, or attempt to rile me should we cross paths in future. This means we're okay. But... sure, I guess I can do that for you. I'm not just a pretty face~"

Sitting with his back straight and gently placing a napkin across his lap, he moved to dive his spoon into the vanilla ice cream, almost humming his approval when it reached his mouth. However, the brief look of elation was brought down by a suddenly contemplative frown, eyeing Ramsay curiously. "...When I was working with Alexander, I did do my research. I didn't want him to stab me in the back, because I didn't initially trust him. That's why I befriended Dylan, so I had someone to turn to should Alexander have double-crossed me. Obviously Dylan wasn't the best choice, but I did meet someone else. Some guy in a bar. It wasn't a long meeting, just five minutes, but he gave me his number and he said he had experience with this sort of thing," he began quietly, his lips pursing as he jabbed absentmindedly at the steaming waffles. "I suppose I'm bringing it up because, upon reflection, it's startling how calm he was when he heard I was aiding a gangster to harm you. He seemed awfully... indifferent, and it makes me wonder what his credentials are, and who he was. You know people, don't you? I mean, you run the town, practically. Have you ever come across someone called Ivan? I don't know his surname. He's Russian, I detected that from his accent. Dark features, slick, gelled back hair, brown eyes...? You don't have to help me, obviously. I suppose, if he is someone dangerous, you'd love to see me brutally killed."​
 

A part of Ramsay was glad to hear that Valentino wouldn't be talking to Dylan again. Dylan was too nice for his own good at times, and he didn't need to start being conflicted between Valentino and the gang. If he was being honest, Ramsay sometimes wondered how Dylan could be as he was whilst still being a gangster. Perhaps it was due to the fact that he had been shielded from many of the worst aspects of being a gangster, Ramsay opting to give him the 'easy work'. Maybe Dylan wasn't even aware of the kind of danger he was in – he certainly acted oblivious. "To be honest, I don't tell him much about what we do as a gang," Ramsay admitted once the waiter had left. "He's given the easier work, or just no work at all. I tell him to 'patrol' the street, but really he's just watching one of the safest places to be in this city. It must be how he stays the way he is."

No matter how many times Valentino said it, Ramsay still couldn't entirely believe that he wanted no part of this life any more. Of course, he had dealt with some intense situations, but for many this kind of life was addictive. Ramsay had seen this happen many times, though perhaps not on as huge a scale as Valentino's situation. Young men – hell, young boys even – would get a taste of gang culture, be it through a friend, older brother, or an older kid at school, and then they would be hooked. Young kids had come knocking on Ramsay's door before, asking to join the gang, and Ramsay had turned them away. It wasn't like he didn't need all the people he could get – running a gang was difficult, and the more members the better – but he couldn't take on kids. For starters, they were unreliable, since it wasn't as if their lives depended on getting money through the gang. And second, they were children. School students who didn't have any idea what they wanted to do with their futures, kids who didn't know what they were getting into. Ramsay was many things, but he couldn't be the one to ruin the lives of children.

"Don't worry, I won't beat you up," Ramsay replied, smiling as he came out of his thoughts. "I'll get one of my men to do it for me." He laughed at his own joke, shaking his head at his words. "I'm joking, by the way. Knowing you, you'd think I was being serious." The sarcastic retort he received after teasing Valentino and his apologising abilities left Ramsay smirking. "I definitely plan on holding this against you," he noted, letting out a quiet chuckle. Valentino's voice may have been dry, but the gangster could see the faint smile on his lips, and so it seemed the mood hadn't been ruined. However, it didn't stay that way. As soon as Ramsay mentioned the information, he could sense the way the atmosphere dropped. Though he didn't regret bringing up the subject. Ramsay wanted something, anything. Sure, he could guess what the police already had on him and his gang, but having solid information was better than estimations and assumptions. He stared at Valentino as the student fiddled with his collar and responded how Ramsay imagined he would. Whilst the whole 'sneaking around' could bring about a new wave of trouble, Ramsay still wanted to find out something new. Although, was it worth risking the chief of police finding out about everything? Ramsay didn't know, and that uneasiness was enough to make him reconsider his request, even if just for a second or two.

At first, Ramsay didn't say anything, still a bit taken aback by the fact that Valentino had just sworn. Though before he could respond, Valentino was speaking once more, this time in a much more teasing manner. All seriousness left Ramsay for a moment as he glared at the student and his joking. "I know this means I would have to speak with you again--" Ramsay cut himself off as the waitress came over with the food and drinks, the gangster not wanting to taunt Valentino in front of another person, mostly to avoid any kind of attention being drawn to him. He looked at Valentino's breakfast with raised eyebrows, not expecting the student to be able to eat so much. Once the waitress had left, Ramsay intended on continuing with his jovial rant, but Valentino was quicker than him, the student already back to talking. A sigh escaped the gangster at Valentino's words, and though he rolled his eyes, he agreed to the terms. "Fine," he said before taking a sip of his coffee. "No attacking, teasing, or riling. But that goes for you as well."

With Valentino agreeing to help out, Ramsay went to his breakfast, eager to eat something. Needless to say, he was impressed with the waffles, and despite his rather upper-class surroundings, he had no issue with scoffing his food down. Though when he stopped to look at Valentino and saw the way the student was eyeing him, Ramsay was quick to slow down to a stop and hear the student out. Ramsay remained silent as Valentino spoke, waiting on every word. As soon as Valentino said Ivan's name, Ramsay narrowed his eyes. It rang a bell, though whether that was a good thing or a bad thing wasn't clear. Ramsay knew a lot of people, and that wasn't always good. It meant he forgot people, or more specifically, people's intentions. Sitting back, Ramsay thought about this Ivan for a moment, trying to place the description that Valentino had given him. "The name rings a bell," he admitted, before falling quiet once more as he thought a bit more deeply. "I've met him, or at least been introduced to him in some way. I recognise the description, but I can't remember exactly who he was. If he was undercover, he hid it well enough. Can't say I had any reason to be suspicious of him." Though in this world, there was always reason to be suspicious. Some people were just less suspicious than others.

"Though if he was 'indifferent' about harming me, then maybe he wasn't so great." Ramsay continued to think, unable to shake the feeling that he knew this Ivan guy. "You still got his number?" Ramsay asked, pointing his fork at Valentino, though that was more out of habit than some kind of threat. Still, he felt the need to promptly lower the cutlery, in case Valentino took it as a potential intimidation tactic. "Why don't you try calling or texting him, with me in the room. Just pretend I'm not there, and see what this Ivan guy wants. There's no way he was offering his help and didn't want something in return. And I doubt he wanted to murder you. If anything, he probably wants to murder me." Ramsay went to take another piece of his waffles, but changed his mind halfway through and went back to waving his fork around. "Text him now. The sooner we get to the bottom of this, the better. I'll keep trying to remember who the hell this guy could be."​

​
 
Hearing that Dylan hardly had the bountiful credentials as a 'gangster' as Ramsay or Alexander did didn't surprise Valentino all that much.

As much as he liked Dylan, the boy was no gangster. Valentino didn't quite know why that was, though he had a hunch that Dylan was just far too sensitive and nice to be cold-hearted when he needed to be, and keeping him away from the more important roles within the gang seemed to be the wisest decision. He wasn't going to commend Ramsay on that, though. He didn't want to just start complimenting him and gushing over any miraculously intelligent decision the man made. Valentino had only just started to feel comfortable in his company and see him as a person rather than a disgusting commoner, and he wasn't yet in the mood to develop on whatever compromise they had made by praising his actions, however much in agreement he was with them.

It was easy to ignore Ramsay when the food had arrived and he had eagerly tucked in to fill the hungry void left in his stomach after a morning of not being able to indulge himself on a breakfast as soon as he had woken up, and after a morning of stress and exhaustion. The only real, sold conclusion he had drawn was that he wasn't prepared to put himself through similar stress... though of course, he wasn't able to prevent that.

The fact he was going to meet up with Ramsay again to hand him over some important information that could end up being detrimental should his father find out was a guarantee for stress. Nevertheless, he was going to go through with it. Ramsay had promised that he wouldn't target Valentino, and if going through another bout of exasperation ad nervousness was the only way to guarantee his safety, he was prepared to do as such... especially because it meant he could meet with Ramsay and tease him relentlessly in the knowledge that the man couldn't physically retort.

He had promised he wouldn't hurt Valentino, and while Ramsay was hardly a trustworthy character on paper, the student did assume his word meant something; that if he made a promise, he would stick uncompromisingly by it.

Now, as much as he just wanted to waste the next half an hour eating his vast breakfast with the occasional but flitting comment to Ramsay, the burning issue of the Ivan character he had met had found itself being blurted out of his mouth before he could really prevent it. Recently, it had been playing horribly on his mind. When he had first met Ivan, it hadn't seemed like such a big issue. He had been in the midst of planning Ramsay's demise, so meeting some charismatic (albeit enigmatic) man in some dreary bar hadn't concerned him too much. With the benefit of hindsight, however, he was starting to note the strangeness - the fact Ivan had known Ramsay; the fact he hadn't flinched when hearing Valentino's plans, and the fact that he had simply smiled and offered up his help all contributed to the student now seriously worrying himself about the true identity and backstory of the man he had acquainted with, however brief.

He was in two minds over how he desired Ramsay's reaction. On one hand, if Ramsay knew Ivan and offered up information, then Valentino would have a much better idea of just who he had met. However, on the other hand, this would mean that Ivan wasn't a particularly admirable man, which is why Valentino did somewhat hope Ramsay knew nothing and responded with a quizzical, baffled shrug. If anything, the younger man was leaning more towards obliviousness rather than any knowledge.

Which was why he instantly grimaced when Ramsay indicated that he may know something, but not enough, his recollections on Ivan apparently rather vague.

"I don't want to really communicate with him, Ramsay. Clearly he isn't a paragon of virtue if you're relatively sure you know him. No offence, but you're hardly a shining example of a gentleman. If you apparently know him, he can't be a good man, and I've had it with gangsters at this point," he admitted as he rubbed his temples, not to show his annoyance, but genuinely to ease the sudden headache he had been hit with. If there had to be any evidence of how stressed he had become, it would be the fact he had abandoned his food in favour of holding his head in his hands, letting the hot waffles grow cold (much to his chagrin when he noticed after ending the brief panic).

"What is it about me that attracts bad people? You, Alexander, Ivan. What, am I a beacon for you lot? I may as well write it on my forehead as a reminder that, hey, if you're a gangster and you want to mess with someone, I'm the person most people fuck with. You had your fun taunting me, Alexander enjoyed using me, Ivan-- god knows who he even is, I don't want to find out," he admitted, jabbing his fork back into his food, though made no effort to lift the piece of cutlery to his mouth, mostly because his energy was draining away from him as the seconds ticked by.

Eventually, the attention Ramsay have the topic did become too much. With Ramsay's insistence on getting the question of Ivan's identity solved, and Valentino's own begrudging curiosity, he jabbed his finger on his touch screen phone a few times, and then a few more, before resting back with a shrug. "I've texted him, alright? I've just said that he doesn't need to worry about helping me, that I've done with the plan now. If this ends up with me being dead, Ramsay, I want roses at my funeral and my ashes scattered in Scotland-- though, knowing you, the roses will be dead and you'll shove my urn in the back of a rubbish skip--"

He would have been happy to indulge in the mess Ramsay would make of his funeral if he ever were in charge of it, if not for the sudden vibration of his phone. Apparently, Ivan had nothing else going on if he replied within a few seconds of receiving the text.

"He's asking where I am," blurted the student after scanning his eyes across the message, peering back up at Ramsay, hoping he would lead the advice on what route to take next. "I could tell him? I mean... I really don't want anything to do with him, and, not that I want to pander to your already highly inflated ego, but I'd feel much.. ugh... I'd feel safer if I confronted him with you sat with me, alright? Yeah, yeah, I love you, I'm going soft, I can't resist your thuggish charm-- whatever. Just, if I ask him to come, you'd better fucking stay."

Noticing the ease he had sworn at did disgust him, but what did he expect if he hung out with Ramsay? Besides, the situation was hardly stress-free, and if he ever swore, it would be in stressful situations. This was the epitome of stress.

Finally allowing himself to relax, even if he had to let out a deep breath and shake his hands to do so, he reached for his milkshake and only smiled once feeling his tense shoulders drop in relative relaxation. He would wait until Ramsay spoke before texting Ivan again, not wanting to jump the gun and make an idiotic mistake... until hearing the buzz again. It did make him tense and grow pale in anticipation, not at all liking having to engage with the man who he had assumed by now wasn't just a normal, law-abiding man in the city.

If he needed evidence to back up why he was so tense, and to defend his assumption that Ivan wasn't just a nine-to-five working man, it was the text that came through.

"He says he's on his way-- I swear I didn't t-tell him, Ramsay, how the h-hell does he know where I am," he squeaked, not bothering to hide the fact he was verging on a panic attack at this point. "Literally, i-it says 'Don't worry, I'm on my way. See you soon'. L-Like... is he stalking me, or... or is he just a genius who can suss out where people are without their location-- maybe he's superhuman or something--"

"Superhuman? Me? Oh, no. I'd love to be, but I'm as normal as you are, Valentino," came a soft remark from
behind the frantic teen, the suave and undeniably handsome man, from his detectable Russian accent and a description that Valentino had revealed minutes prior, being the 'Ivan' character the student was worrying about. Of course, it was strange how he arrived so quickly and without being told the location of the two-- and he hadn't entered via the front entrance either, not that Valentino was in the right mind to even notice the way the other had entered.

Taking a seat without the student's confirmation that he could do so, assuming that he was expected to sit down for a chat, a dark set of eyes flickered from the two sets of meals to Ramsay directly, an amused smile twitching at his chapped lips. "I didn't know you and Valentino were friends. Only last week had he wanted you dead, though I already know how it all played out," he muttered, grabbing a napkin and dabbing at the corner of his lips after having taken a bite from a doughnut he had arrived with.

"How... did you--"

"How did I get here so quickly? Firstly, can I just say it's nice you've found your voice again. I didn't realise I had an impression on people that invoked their speechlessness," remarked the man as he tapped his immaculate and clearly manicured nails against the table. "I know people. I asked you where you were just in hope you'd be truthful with me. I was informed you and Ramsay were here, and I was on my way before you texted. It was a nice coincidence that, as I was thinking of you, you were both thinking of me-- particularly Ramsay, I assume. Do you not know me, Ramsay? I'd like to say I didn't care, but it's rather insulting you not remember my face. I like to leave an impression. Clearly I failed."​
 
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