Catriona fixed her hair in the window as her brother paid for their food, glancing at the table to make sure he’d left a decent tip. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him to, more so that she knew this waitress and really liked her. She’d not even ordered the rootbeer float before one had materialized in front of her, the petite brunette was just here that often. Still, once they got on the road, she found herself explaining to him her latest project she was working on in school. She’d found a way to combine projects for two different classes into one, and was rather proud of herself for it. It was nice to just sit there and talk to him again, even if only for a weekend. There was part of her that just didn’t want to go back; but the rest of her was determined to actually get a degree out of this. She didn’t know what she’d do with the degree, perhaps just write and try to sell her poetry, but she wanted to finish it.<br/><br/>After a short period of silence, she looked over, blushing at his question.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cc99ff"> “I… well…”</span>she swallowed a little, thinking about it.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#cc99ff"> “She has no idea what my type is… I want a guy who does his own thing. And doesn’t mind when I do mine. And most guys, when you’re their girl, they think they are the only thing that matters. It’s like no, I have homework tonight, that comes first. So i get called a prude and they don’t stop by anymore. Beth says i’m going to die a spinster but i don’t mind if that's the only sort of guy who comes around. It's like they assume because i’m her roommate i’m just like her.”</span>she let out a harumph, sliding back into the seat.<br/><br/>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br/><br/><b>5:00 PM, Friday April 17, 1964<br/>
New York, New York<br/>
The Docks, Warehouse 27 B</b><br/><br/>Oscar looked around the warehouse he’d acquired only two weeks prior. They were making some repairs on it, and were currently only using the front half for storage and shipping. He’d had his men move six steel shipping containers back here to use as offices, almost as comfortable as his office back in the city proper, he’d joked. But this would be the place. He turned to the young man he had with him, a spirited man just shy of thirty, willing and eager to do anything he was asked, but perhaps a little too rough with some of the working girls.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff9999">“Celio. I need you to go back to the office. When Michael arrives, tell him to come here.”</span><br/><br/>He watched as Ilario walked in the other side of the warehouse, knowing Luca wouldn’t be too far behind him. Vessini had other duties to handle for the time being but the Don was sure he’d be along later for the festivities. They’d already been informed of what was going to happen tonight. It was only his intentions for the next day that still remained unclear. Antonio Lecce would be meeting him here in the afternoon, but until than, the girl would be kept here. Safe. relatively speaking. He’d promised the boy they wouldn’t kill her, and he would keep to that. Besides, she was his late wife’s goddaughter, and though he was not her godfather, he still felt some measure of responsibility for the girl.<br/><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff9999">“Ilario, excellent. Get some men to clean out crate B. I want a bed and a table. A few chairs for the people guarding her.” </span>he ordered as the man approached him.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff9999">“And than return to me, we have other matters to discuss.”</span>