Choking On Sapphires

66 Your Sins Will Find You Out (NSFW)

You meet him at the church, a large and old cathedral that apparently matched the importance of the man who had passed. You hadn't known him but knew he was a big deal in the jewelry quarter, and if he was important enough for Alfie to feel the need to be seen at the funeral you figured it was important enough to dress up for.

Granted, it certainly felt correct to walking into a Catholic church in all black for the first time in over thirteen years. As was your intention, heads turn when you walk in and you feel a tingling sense of naughtiness pass over you. Perhaps it was that Catholic guilt that had been beaten into you over the years through corporal punishment. The wild years you'd spent beating that guilt away with the same actions that put it into in the first place come to mind, you slink about the stone and stained glass in the entryway, looking for Alfie.

You watch his face change when he sees you, and it does more for you than endless heads turning in any room could. Your dress, a high necked, long sleeved and floor-length black gown. Sheer coverage over a solid black bodice and skirt clung to your filled out feminine form, your jeweled handbag clutched in your grasp as you sauntered over towards him, his eyes looking over you as the men he's speaking to turn to see what's caused an uncharacteristic silence from Alfie.

You looked like an angel of death, walking into the room the way you did. Your hair plaited and pulled around to one side, a jeweled clasp containing the soft mass of it. Your earrings sparkled, catching the light from the stained glass windows in their multitude of colors. He clears his throat as you approach, outstretching his hand to place on your back in a subtle statement of possession. "'Ello darling," he says softly with a mutual nod as you stand like a statue by his side as he introduces you. "Gentlemen, this is my lovely Miss Genevieve Durand," he spoke smoothly, you loved the pride you could hear in it in its gruffness. "This is Mr. Doyle, Mr. Callahan. Jewelers both and Doyle is an old school mate of mine." he elaborates as you extend your hand to eldest first.

"Mr. Callahan." you give a polite nod and curtsy to them both as they shake your hand, seemingly unsure of the boldness of the gesture from a woman, and possibly hesitant to touch something seemingly owned by Alfie. "Mr. Doyle. Lovely to meet you both."

"Miss." they both respond politely.

"Might I say your jewels are pristine, Miss Durand." Mr. Callahan says.

"You may." you give him a friendly smile to break the tension. "And thank you. I take great pride in them." you return your hands to your purse in front of you.

"Would you excuse us?" Alfie says, a hand lightly on your elbow to pull you towards the large, daunting wooden doors that led into the arched peaks of the cathedral.

"Something the matter?" you whisper, recognizing the acoustics of the room would be awe-inspiring.

"No, no," he says with a shake of his head. "Just wanted a moment with you before..." he gestures vaguely with his hand to the pulpit. "...all this begins." he huffs out. You walk leisurely past statues and towering examples of art in the room as you speak softly, moving among the attendees with polite nods. "I must say you look stunning." he expresses closely to your ear.

"Thank you darling." you bat your lashes at him. "You look handsome as always. Did you trim your beard?" you ask, refraining from running your fingers through it.

"I did, ever the observant one." he chuckles. "You look like the angel sent down to retrieve the man in question today from his final resting place. A portrait of the angel of dark and light, love." he muses.

"You speaking of beauty in such a macabre way will do things to me Alfie, you know this." you smirk at him.

"As it should. Perhaps if death had looked like this I wouldn't have fought so hard to stay alive during the wars, eh?" he gives a cheeky grin and the thrill of the discussion in such a morbid way was causing your face to blush. "You've been paintin' me as deities but if I were a painter, yeah? I'd be paintin' you exactly like 'is. Like a female Abaddon, dripping in all black, joining with the abyss. Oh, what fire and destruction you could bring, my love." he whispers. "Never full so the eyes of man are never satisfied." he recites and you blush deeper shades as those soft lips seduce you with their silver tongue accomplice.