Celia let out a yawn as they reached new york, having dozed off a bit in the latter half of the drive. She graciously accepted her brother’s arm as they got out, smoothing out the skirt of her green dress, rumpled from the ride and her nap. It took her a bit to get her footing, having been in the car for so long and asleep. She stretched, before finally letting him lead her into the building. She was looking forwards to seeing her favorite uncle, wondering if he still kept that box of caramels in his desk drawer. At least she hoped they weren’t the exact same box. It had been two years since she’d been there. A look of confusion and disappointment crossed her face as they arrived at a darkened room.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cc99ff">“Uncle Oscar?”</span>she called out softly, only for a voice that wasn’t the man they were looking for to come out behind them.<br/><br/>Immediately she had a bad feeling about this guy, like sticking your hands in a bucket expecting water and getting oil instead. She didn’t like the way he was leering at her either, breathing a sigh of relief as her brother took on the protective role and stepped between them.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cc99ff">“Have a nice day.”</span>she said to him, regretting the fact that she drew attention to herself when she realized they had to walk past him. She moved quickly for the door, following her brother. But it wasn’t fast enough, apparently, as a hand came in contact with the back of her skirts, giving her butt a firm little squeeze. She yet out a faint yip and spun around, but he was already walking down the hall, laughing as he waved before heading into one of the side offices.<br/><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cc99ff">“Mike….” </span>she said, without even needing to look at him.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cc99ff"> “Lets just go? Please?”</span>she said, trying to pull him out towards the car a bit more.<br/><br/>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br/><br/><b>6:25 PM, Friday April 17, 1964<br/>
New York, New York<br/>
The Docks, Warehouse 27 B</b><br/><br/>Oscar lit his cigar, looking around the shipping container. Four square crates had been pushed together in the back to form a raised platform, with a large mattress thrown on top, made up like a proper bed. Next to the doors, a rectangular table had been pushed against the wall, with a few chairs scattered around. Luca sat there, shuffling a deck of cards quietly as he waited. Of all the men, Luca was the most quiet, but Oscar had seen another side of him before, and knew he could be the most cold when it was necessary.<br/><br/>A car engine stopped outside with a familiar rumble and sputter, and he shook his head. “<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff9999">Ilario, with me…” </span>he ordered, walking slowly towards the front of the building. He’d have to give Mike some extra cash to get that rattle fixed. Wasn’t good for the engine to sound like that.