As far as insight goes, there's not much in Valentino's room that suggests he's anything other than what's on the tin - nothing glaringly obvious anyway. There are no photographs on display, but there are one or two - one of them of vox (another one of Anthony's father's top men) and another of a very pretty woman with tanned skin and beautiful hair, both of them candid - tucked away between the pages of books with random, uninteresting titles. There's a smaller black book in a bedside drawer, pages filled with seemingly nonsensical notes, vague on purpose as to not be incriminating, and several doodles and drawings of random objects and people, sketched by a talented hand.
Valentino is gone for a little over an hour, meeting with a few of his men to confirm the smooth transfer of product and collection of proper payment. When he returns, he doesn't make a point to be particularly quiet, but he doesn't announce himself either. He sets his keys on a small table by the front door, and starts unthreading the leather wristband of his watch as he pads through the apartment, curious to see where Anthony's settled.
His disappointment over finding Anthony's suitcase in one of the spare bedrooms is minimal and brief, replaced with intrigue and something else when he finds him, instead, in his own bedroom sprawled across his bed like he belongs there. Val pauses in the open doorway for a moment and just watches him, eyes dark with interest. It's dangerously similar to the scenes he'd played out in his mind earlier.
Quietly, Valentino steps into the room, footsteps muted somewhat by the carpet as he makes his way to the dresser pushed up against the far wall.
"Well," he starts, setting his wristwatch down neatly on the top. He turns, leaning his butt against the edge of the wardrobe, legs stretched out slightly and crossed at the ankles as he starts to roll down his cuffed sleeves, eyes on Anthony. He can tell, even with just a casual glance, that someone's been snooping, though how he feels about that is difficult to tell on purpose. "Don't you look comfortable."
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Date: 2024-09-24 05:15 am (UTC)Valentino is gone for a little over an hour, meeting with a few of his men to confirm the smooth transfer of product and collection of proper payment. When he returns, he doesn't make a point to be particularly quiet, but he doesn't announce himself either. He sets his keys on a small table by the front door, and starts unthreading the leather wristband of his watch as he pads through the apartment, curious to see where Anthony's settled.
His disappointment over finding Anthony's suitcase in one of the spare bedrooms is minimal and brief, replaced with intrigue and something else when he finds him, instead, in his own bedroom sprawled across his bed like he belongs there. Val pauses in the open doorway for a moment and just watches him, eyes dark with interest. It's dangerously similar to the scenes he'd played out in his mind earlier.
Quietly, Valentino steps into the room, footsteps muted somewhat by the carpet as he makes his way to the dresser pushed up against the far wall.
"Well," he starts, setting his wristwatch down neatly on the top. He turns, leaning his butt against the edge of the wardrobe, legs stretched out slightly and crossed at the ankles as he starts to roll down his cuffed sleeves, eyes on Anthony. He can tell, even with just a casual glance, that someone's been snooping, though how he feels about that is difficult to tell on purpose. "Don't you look comfortable."