2007-05-23: Take Out

Starring:

Carmine_icon.gif Francesca_icon.gif

Guest Starring:

Nadia_icon.gif

Summary:

Francesca and Carmine fight about take out. Pictures are thrown.

May 23rd, 2007:

Take Out


Selvaggi Residence

It's been a typically dull day at work doing the things that a bookie for the mafia does, and Carmine is quite effectively worn out. Or, well. He acts like it. But then again he always acts like he's worn out. The weather outside is wet and cold, so when he steps into the house, he immediately starts to shed his thick black overcoat and hat. No umbrella. Who needs it? There is no calling-out to the household to announce his arrival — no "honey, I'm home!" — but there never is, really. He makes no attempts to sneak in quietly either. Carmine Vincenzo Scarletti Ricci Selvaggi does not sneak into his own house, thankyouverymuch, no matter how big of a fight he had the previous night with his wife. He hangs up his coat and hat, pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, and starts making his way toward his "office".

It doesn't sound like there is anyone here to greet Carmine as he returns home. No happy wife, no dinner already on the table…maybe not even anyone. Carmine might hope. But a few minutes after the front door closes there's a slamming sound from somewhere in the house and then stomping feet. Down from the second floor comes Francesca and she does /not/ look happy. However, for once, this doesn't seem to be directed at Carmine. "/People/," she hisses. "They just have no respect for good work. This stupid cagata thinks that /I/ give a shit that he wants to /keep/ his ten fingers. He wanted to do /that/ he'd not be an idiot and tell me what I needed the /first/ time around." She rolls her eyes. "So there's no dinner. Unless you want his fingers. I gotta couple of those."

Ah, the sounds of home. Carmine's face remains entirely impassive throughout Francesca's little rant, and he calmly lights a cigarette. Tales of chopping off fingers are generally common in this household. They're hardly cause for alarm. Once he's got his smoke, he looks at his wife, blinks once, then heads through the door into his office. "No thanks. I had fingers for lunch." As always, it's delivered in deadpan, but there's a bit of a wry undertone that might be easily detected by Francesca, of all people. All he asks is that he come home and have some dinner and hole himself up in his office until he falls asleep. Is that too much to ask? Apparently it is.

Certainly not a cause of alarm in this household. Francesca should be used to Carmine's wry and deadpan demeanor, but it still only serves to rile her. Have emotion, man! "Well. I couldn't ask to to /repeat/ a meal, now could I? Caaaarmy, would you run out to the store and just pick us up something? I mean, you're already dressed to go outside." Which, he's not really any more. But, that's not going to stop her. It, of course, to much to ask that Francesca do something normally. And she's not about to let him just hole himself up in his office when there are other things to be done. Who knows what those things are, though.

What. /What/. There's a little more emotion there now: exasperation. It's not /much/, but for all he shows emotion, it's definitely enough to be apparent. Carmine turns this on Francesca, stares at her a moment in disbelief, then takes the cigarette from between his lips. "I just got home," he states and, though it's still flat, the traces of frustration on his face are also in his voice. "It's cold out there and it's raining. If you wanted somethin', why didn't you call me while I was on my way home?" He doesn't /want/ to go out again

Well, Francesca doesn't want to go out /either/. And because he is her husband, he should go out and hunt things down for them. That is role of man. "Well, I just got home, too." Perhaps, perhaps not, but 'just' is a relative term. "And if I /knew/ you were coming home now I would have called you. But do you ever deem me worthy of /knowing/ where you're going to be or when you're coming home? No! So how would I know?!" Frustration is evident in /her/ voice, too. And it's not masked either. "So just go out, pick up some pasta and we'll be /done/ with it." Not like she's going to back down on this.

Neither is Carmine. It's /cold/ and /wet/ out there and he is /tired/. That frustration is growing more and more apparent, followed swiftly by annoyance and displeasure. "Well if /you/ just got home, why didn't /you/ stop somewhere to pick up somethin'?" is his quick and certainly unhappy retort. "And what the hell's wrong with what we got? There's plenty to eat here already." And plenty to /cook/ too. Which, by the way, is the role of /woman/. Carmine's been out hunting /money/ all day, to pay for /food/, which is supposed to be /cooked/.

Well, it's /cold/ and /wet/ out there and there's /no way/ that Francesca is going out again. Unless it's to cut off more fingers. That's something she'll venture out for again. But why venture out when you can do that at home? "/Because/ I was getting home so I could change. Would have really made a /great impression/ to go to the grocery store /covered in blood/." There is simply no hiding her displeasure at Carmine not /immediately/ jumping to her orders and doing what she wants. "I don't /want/ any of the stuff we've got here. It's going bad and it's old and we've /had/ it a million times."

Oh look, another blow-up. Not that this is unusual for this particular couple. Fights are as commonplace as severed fingers. "Oh, well /excuse me/, Your Highness," snaps Carmine sarcastically. "I didn't know it displeased you. Shall I summon the servants to whisk it away? I wouldn't want it to /upset/ your /delicate constitution/. Dio ce ne scampi e liberi!" Oh yes, he's worked himself into a full-on rant now, and it is quite a sight. Glaring, eyes blazing, lips contorted into a dark scowl, it's like he's actually a human and not a robot!

"Damn /right/ Your Highness," Francesca hisses at Carmine. "I am practically /royalty/ and you don't deserve me! So /watch/ yourself, Carmy!" This is the point where if there was something handy to toss or throw or staple into Carmine he should watch himself. However, they're right by the stairs and in the hallway - there's nothing really for her to throw. Except for the framed pictures on the wall. And in stroke of inspiration, she snatches one from its hook and holds it dangerously over her head. "My /delicate constitution/ is going to /smash your face in/ if you call me delicate any more!"

"Oh I don't huh?" Carmine snarls. "Maybe you're right! Maybe I /don't/! Maybe I'll go sign those Goddamn papers— " he points behind him toward the office containing his cluttered desk "— and we'll be done with this." Yes, previous experience tells Carmine that he's treading dangerous ground here, but the fact that they're in the hallway gives him a slight sense of security. Nothing to throw or staple him with here, right? Right. Right up until the point that Francesca grabs one of the pictures off the wall. /Damn it/. And now he has nothing with which to defend himself. Damn her resourcefulness. Then again, if she couldn't find a picture, she probably would've ripped a beam out of the wall. Never know with Francesca. Whatever the case, as soon as that threat of violence manifests itself, Carmine points at his wife with his middle and index fingers, cigarette clutched between them. "You throw that and I'll put you through the /wall/, you crazy /bitch/."

"Yeah. You /get/ those papers!" Francesca screeches. Because she is in no way a quiet arguer. /Everyone/ will hear her displeasure and they will hear it now. "And as soon as they're signed, I'm getting Tommy to set a contract on you and I /hope to God/ that it's me who picks it up, you coglione!" The last statement earns nothing that is intelligible. Instead, it's more like a shriek of frustration and anger at being threatened and called a bitch. If he was trying to /not/ escalate things further, this was /certainly/ not the way to do it because he /dared/ her not to do something. That is never a way to win with Cesca. With a quick calculation, she wings the picture right for Carmine and she hopes that it knocks him right in the face. She /really/ does.

Yup. Everyone hears the argument. Even Nadia as she approaches the door. Hearing the raised voices, she rolls her eyes and mutters, 'What now?' Probably the umpteenth divorce threat this day. Hrm.. to visit with her dear daddy, or just come back later.. not that there seems to be a good time to visit. Privately, she's got to wonder to herself WHY does her dad do this to himself? With a sigh, she strides up to the door and raps quite loudly at its surface. Personally, she'd like to see Cesca kicked to the curb.. although in a way she has the bitch to thank for y'know, her association with Leo. *cough*

That picture hits, all right, and though it's headed straight for Carmine's face, his attempt to protect himself saves him from any horribly disfiguring facial scars. Instead, the picture bounces off his forearm as he brings both arms up to shield his head. The sleeve of his suit jacket is ripped a bit as the corner tears the fabric, but that's the only casualty in this first strike of the latest battle between this couple. He glances down at the picture where it lands on the floor, then turns a glare on Francesca. One thing about Carmine: he doesn't pull punches. When he makes threats, he follows through. So he surges forward to grab Francesca and hopefully pin her to the wall. It's a silent attack; he makes no vocal sounds. And the knock at the door? Totally ignored for now. He has other things to deal with.

Francesca wasn't expecting Carmine to pull any of his punches. That's why as soon as that picture was tossed, she was starting down the hallway in the opposite direction so that she would be out of range of his next attack. She's too slow for the lightening quick man and she's smashed up against the wall with a yell. But, just because she lost her latest weapon and because she's up against the wall doesn't mean she's out of the fight. Instead, she uses the leverage of Carmine holding her to pick up her legs and aim a very swift and hard kick to his sensitive areas. Was there a knock on the door? If there was, she's not about to answer it. She's kind of /pinned to the wall/ at the moment.

Nadia taptaps her foot, raises her knuckles to knock again at the door then decides not to. Y'know. This is just a little too much judging from the noise on the other side of that door. Tossing her hair from her shoulders, she opens her mouth and shouts loud enough for the neighbors to hear, "HI DAD, BYE DAD. I'M GOING TO MY NIGHT JOB. STRIPPING AT GIA'S PONY CLUB." Then she's stalking off and away before her words are heard, sink in and she's got a rampaging bull on her heels.

WHAM. Carmine wins. He even anticipated that kick and is able to hop his lower half back far enough to avoid any injury to sensitive bits that have no business being kicked. He doesn't release his hold on Francesca though, and to avoid any further retaliations of the lower half, he twists his hip a little to one side and presses it up against hers, hopefully putting him too close for a stray knee or foot or leg to make a second attempt on that area. /Ha/. So there he stands for a few moments, glaring right into his wife's face, and … and now he's all /worked up/ and there's /proximity/ and— Nadia? What? Just when he's getting such thoughts, the voice of his daughter breaks in and he seems to snap out of it a bit. He turns to glare at the door. "The /hell/?"

/Gah/. She's all trapped against the wall and pressed up against and he's making /hard/ for her to fight back. Dammit! Francesca struggles against Carmine, trying to find a weakness to get an elbow or a knee in. Nadia's yelled greeting and goodbye all in one is enough to distract Carmine, luckily, and she uses it to pry an arm free and smack him. /She/ doesn't care if Nadia goes to work in a strip club. As far as she's concerned that's where Nadia belongs. While Carmine might have other ideas on his mind at first, she's still in fight mode.

Nadia most certainly does /not/ belong in a strip club, and Carmine would punch anyone who said otherwise. Good thing Francesca didn't say it aloud. That slap brings him right back to the issue at hand, though, and he quickly snatches at that loose arm to once again pin it to the wall. Then, he simply glares at Francesca. /Glares/. From within an inch of her nose. "/Don't/. /You/. /Ever/. Do that /again/," he snarls between gritted teeth.

Though Francesca may be impetuous, she's not stupid. Maybe she /would/ bring Nadia up into the fight, but she's already worked as a distraction and there is growling going on. Even pressed up against a wall and without much of any way to get free, she stops struggling and returns the glare at full wattage. "/Or/. /You'll/. /What/." Just because she's trapped does not mean her spirit is broken. Or that she's going to back down from such a challenge.

He'll what? What will he do? Well. /Well/. Wellllll. Carmine doesn't do anything for a moment, because he really has no response to that. As mentioned, he doesn't make idle threats, so if that means not making a threat at all, well, he'll not make a threat. Instead? Instead he simply seeks to stop Francesca's lips by engaging them in a passionate, albeit rather hard and hungry kiss. There. That'll shut her up. /Ha/.

It's not like this was totally unexpected. Francesca's and Carmine's fights normally either devolve into someone needing to go to the hospital or to the bedroom. And she's never quite sure which fight will be which until it's gone past the point of no return. The hungry kiss is a bit awkward, since she wasn't quite ready for it, but as soon as her thoughts have caught up that this is no longer RAR fighting and is now RAR kissing, she quickly starts to return it. No longer still against the wall, she squirms against his holding arms.

/Ha/. Carmine totally won this argument. /Totally won/. Though in an argument such as this, there are really no losers. Well, except for Carmine's jacket, which has a torn sleeve now. Certainly not the /worst/ he's ever acquired from fights such as this. Those arms are a key factor in holding, half-carrying, pulling, and otherwise guiding Francesca back toward the bedroom, where the battle reaches its inevitable conclusion. Afterward, Carmine is the one who travels back downstairs to get the pasta dish ordered from a local late-night pizza delivery place.

/But at least he didn't have to go back outside/.

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