<div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">OOC</div><div class="spoiler_body">It happens to the best of us, as I myself know well.  Here's to the holidays not getting more time than they're due!</div></div><br/><br/>Alberto was fucked.<br/><br/>At the idea that he might -like- what had been done to him, his hands snapped firmly away from his half-thought-through exploration of what had been done to his body.  A few thoughts had occurred to him, disjointed but factual: he wasn't wearing the clothing he'd had on when Andrei had sedated him, meaning that Andrei had undressed, then re-dressed him.  Nobody would believe that this nobody girl was Alberto Davide, meaning that he was completely isolated right now.  Even putting aside the fact that Andrei was... was a -something-...<br/><br/>Alberto glanced around and spotted a mirror, moving on unsteady legs to get a better look at himself.  As much as he wanted to be absolutely mind-fuckingly furious, Andrei had in fact made him impossible to read as a Davide.  There wasn't even a hint of sisterly resemblance in this face -- piercing eyes, coal-black hair, lips, nose, all different enough that he felt like a different person was staring out from his reflection... but he raised a hand to his face and the girl looking back at him did so as well.<br/><br/>"Not like this," he murmured, choking briefly on a distressed moan.  He hadn't wanted that distance like -this-.  And Andrei was goddamn pleased as piss that he'd gotten to do this to him.<br/><br/>But what was feeling sorry for himself going to do to end this?  Dick-all.<br/><br/>He clenched his teeth, closed his eyes, took a breath and held it for a long moment, and when he opened his eyes again, he looked at the girl in the mirror.  It could be worse, a sober voice reasoned: he -- she? -- was actually a decent-looking woman.  Kind of the alt rock grunge crowd look, especially with the jeans, t-shirt and... braless, he realized.  He forced a smile at the mirror, and the girl smiled back at him; she looked a little less like hell that way.  It was a decent look, just... one he was used to seeing on his dates.  The thought occurred to him again, this time more neutrally: there was no way anyone would think that this woman was Alberto Davide.  Whatever she did would never be tied to him.<br/><br/>"I may need a day or two to case the joint," Alberto said, not looking back, trying to keep his voice steady and mostly succeeding at not flinching at the higher tones coming out of his throat.  "And I'll definitely need to get my tools.  But you'll get your documents.  And..."  She lifted one small foot, wiggling her toes.  "Do you have any, like, actual shoes or sandals or boots or something?  I'm not real eager to put my bare feet on these streets..."