Chapter 21 1/2

Author's Note : …that did not take me long at all.

Yes, Sonya legally changed her name to Bazanova. However, she introduced herself to Renato as 'Nikishina' originally. She actually has four last names she can use, Nikishina, Bazanova, Primakova, and 'of Zolotov'. When Cherep gets around to it, likely de Mort as well (even if that one will probably end up as 'civilian only'). So it sounds like she has a lot of aliases, therefore mafia people tend to use the first one they learn or the 'official' one depending on how or when they learn her name.

Edited (4/27/2017) - Minor story edits and corrections.

Edit (3/22/2018) - Final formatting and minor corrections.

Edited (9/8/2018) - Minor corrections.

Russian Roulette : Reloaded

Chapter 21

(Monday the 25 th of December, 1967 continued. Iron Fort, Italian Republic.)

"I actually don't really see the point," Sonya admitted, threading her fingers through her hair and pulling both the red lilies Renato got her and her Bec de Corbins out of it, "as you can't really completely disarm any Flame user worth their inner fire anyways."

Ganauche took the flowers from her while also juggling her broken gold ax-charm bracelet, a steadily shrinking golden ax, and her hammer pendant in his other hand. "So, what? Have you been armed this whole time? All week?"

"Of course I have." She informed him blandly as she ran a hand through her now loose hair, seriously wondering why he would think she would give up any weaponry without prompting in the first place.

Visconti took possession of the two mini-polearms that had been holding up her bun. "We will return these when your visit comes to an end, Miss Nikishina."

She blinked at him, looked at her two of three tungsten Bec de Corbins in his hands, and tried for a non-awkward smile to give the Ninth Generation Vongola Cloud Guardian.

From the flat look he aimed at her over those sunglasses, the Russian probably wasn't going to get away with it.

"Sonya? Anything you would like to share with the rest of the class?" Renato asked, still highly amused even if he had to give up his own weapon to Coyote Nougat.

It had been under his dress shirt, which had been how he had snuck it past causal security screening in the ballroom even if the thief could feel it just holding his arm like a proper piece of arm candy.

The gun now in the Storm Guardian's possession had a strip of moonstones inlaid on the grip.

She couldn't decide if she felt flattered he had adjusted a holdout weapon for what she had inadvertently showed him or a little annoyed he pointed her out as the one who helped identify them as his stone.

Since they arrived days early and had been already within the Iron Fort before the Ball, they had also escaped the normal strict searches all guests were subjected to at the main doors. The Sky of Vongola had been a little chagrined to learn that was how they snuck their weapons through initially.

Unknowingly or not.

"…I may or may not actually have seven of those things. Two with me, the rest in my rooms."

Ganauche choked on his own spit, edging away from her slightly and dumping the rest of her jewelry into the Cloud Guardian's hands. Including the now hand-ax sized battle ax still shrinking into its pre-Propagated dimensions as her Cloud Flames bled off it.

He then made a beeline for the abandoned tables, seizing the first opened bottle of wine he found and necking what was left in it.

Timoteo Vongola sighed, rubbing at his mouth likely in an attempt to hide his stubbornly lingering smile. "I think I am very happy Clouds are not particularly common."

"Since I can, as Renato so charmingly put it earlier this week, 'rip off someone's arm and beat them with it' with my bare hands, no Cloud can really be called 'unarmed'." Sonya tacked on in a conversational tone, reaching over and fishing through the hitman's pockets for her cigarettes and lipstick. "Not so long as we still have arms."

Renato huffed at her, still buttoning up his dress shirt after giving up the gun that had been strapped to his chest under it. Which had been why she didn't bother asking.

Since the party was over, most of the sopping wet Mafiosi and their dates for the evening more interested in getting dry and warm than remaining to talk after a midnight snowball fight that lasted until dawn, she had no problem lighting up especially since she had abstained for most of the ball. Taking a long drag before continuing to try and clarify why it was she never thought to even ask if having weapons was allowed.

Other than the fact the man who invited her here had done it too.

"Where I am from we don't actually disarm for anything, so we assume everyone else is armed as well. My foster father even used to wear a garrote wrapped around his arm to bed, until my foster mother made him stop because it started to chafe her skin badly. She got him a knife he could strap to the small of his back instead in compromise."

Timoteo opened his mouth, closed it, shook his head, and gave a slightly unwilling huff of laughter. "That… that is fascinating, Miss Sonya. And I suppose it would explain a few things, but next time…?"

"If there is a next time, I will give up my weapons to whoever is at the door." Sonya agreed, only a tiny bit sheepishly.

"What, you're going to abandon me to the masses just like that?" Asked Renato, seizing her wrist to snag her pack of cigarettes and take one for himself. "I'm hurt, little lady Sonya."

"Parties aren't really my thing." She reminded him a little pointedly, letting him take possession of her smokes because she knew arguing about it could take a bit longer than she really wanted to linger for. "I only came along this time for Shamal, really."

"You like the brat more than me?"

"Yes."

He glared at her for the bluntly honest answer.

With another huff, and a smirk that just wouldn't let itself be smoothed away, Don Vongola checked to ensure that his guests really were either gone or on their way out then gestured for everyone to follow him. "I think we should end this night on that note."

The hitman twitched, scoffed as he ground the half-finished cigarette under his heel, and stalked along after the Sky. The slightly chilly Russian did the same before following the men, fingering her tube of lipstick thoughtfully.

Since it did look as if Timoteo was going to escort them back to the guest suites they were living in for the short term, probably to ensure she did give up the rest of her weaponry and the hitman didn't have any more, she wondered if she minded the audience for the last thing she planned on for the night.

Shamal had double dog dared her, after all. She couldn't let that go without at least attempting it.

There were more than enough ornamental mirrors scattered about the mansion to ensure she had a very fresh and thick coat of red lipstick, with only Schnitten of Rain and Coyote of Storm to become curious over what she was planning.

She knew full well the tetchy Mist brat would likely either stay up all night or try to be awake when they came back, Renato wasn't amused to learn he had actually asked one of the maids to wake him up for it when the kid stumbled out of the thief's suite.

Shamal blinked brown bleary eyes up at them all, still sporting a smudged makeup imprint of her lips on his cheek, then scowled cutely at the hitman glowering down at him. "Hey… Miss Sonya, didn't-"

The Inverted Sun caught on only a split second too late.

Sonya planted a kiss to his cheek, ducking away quickly and grinning at the bright red lip mark she left behind. "Merry Christmas, Renato."

From the dark glare she got in return, he didn't share the sentiment.

"Eww… she got you too, Mister Renato." Baby Mist chortled, eyes widening when the Storm-Cloud grabbed him in response. "NO! Miss Sonya, you already got mee!"

"Well… you shouldn't laugh at other's misfortune. Where they can hear it and plot revenge, anyways." Pressing her still red lips to his cheek again despite his squirming, she smirked at his pout. "You're going to need a nap, brat."

Said brat grumbled over her 'nasty' makeup, rubbing at the new lipstick stain on his face and merely smearing a new red mark all over himself.

Timoteo cleared his throat, pressing his lips together and pointedly looking between the thief and her guest suite. He also looked highly amused, especially when Renato pulled out his handkerchief to try scrubbing the thief's lipstick off of his face. "Miss Sonya?"

"Right, weapons. One second." Shifting Shamal to the side to sit on a hip, she opened her door and made a beeline for her suitcase.

Through the open door, she could faintly hear the Lightning Guardian's voice as she dumped the Mist brat on her temporary couch. "If she didn't scare me a little, I would totally ask if I could have one too."

One what?

A lipstick mark?

That was kind of… stupid. He could do it himself with any tube of the stuff, why ask her for it?

Digging out her remaining Bec de Corbins after telling the sleepy brat to climb back into bed without her since she needed a shower, the thief retraced her steps and was promptly baffled at the sight that greeted her.

Ganauche had a new bright red mark on his lightly tanned face, somehow acquired while she had been in her guest suite living room. He was also pointedly keeping the Rain Guardian between himself and Renato for some reason.

The hitman was ignoring him just as pointedly in return, but he also had her lilies in his fist now instead of the man she had given them to after pulling them out of her hair.

Entirely confused over what was going on, Sonya handed over her remaining five Bec de Corbins to Visconti to add to the rest of her 'arsenal'. "Erm… is everything…?"

"We are fine, Miss Sonya." Nono Vongola informed her as if she hadn't caught him trying to give one shameless Inverted Sun a reproving look. "Good morning, and Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Don Vongola." She parroted back, flicking her eyes from Renato back to the man's Lightning Guardian. "Good morning, gentlemen."

She got a various array of responses back, and her flowers from the hitman along with a curt 'Sonya'.

(ooo000ooo)

(Monday the 25th of December, 1967 continued. Iron Fort, Italian Republic.)

Shamal only really let Sonya have a four/five-hour nap, he was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed before ten and ran out of patience about ten-thirty.

The party ended around five, but she didn't get to bed until around six.

At least, ten was when he woke her up and demanded his presents the first time.

The second time the thief groggily informed him Renato had to be awake first before they could do presents. When baby Mist darted off she blinked blearily after him a few times, wondering if she should risk going back to sleep or drag herself out of bed.

Sonya did, eventually, stumble into her guest suite sitting room. Tiredly curling up on her couch to wait for what was going to happen next, and somewhat dozing a little in the meantime as she warmed up her corner of the overly stuffed cushions.

Shamal pulling an equally groggy, probably grumpy, half-dressed hitman into her rooms was at least expected.

The kid huffed and puffed out his still slightly chubby cheeks, looking highly exasperated. "Why'd you two have to sleep in different rooms? You're making me do more work."

"Alas, the whine of all children everywhere." She got in before Renato could do more than just generally glower around, limply waving a hand to her suitcase. "Now fetch your presents, I'm too tired to do it myself."

The outraged look she got in return was at least making up a little for baby Mist's general lack of patience.

Throwing himself to the other end of the couch she was curled up on, the shirtless Sun muttered something probably uncomplimentary about the kid under his breath. Then he glared over at her. "Isn't that my shirt?"

A squeak and a crash of pottery had both thief and hitman craning around to see one of the maids with a fire-engine red face standing over a mess of broken crockery and spilled liquids.

She had probably been alerted to them being awake when Renato and Shamal entered her suite and tripped or something across the threshold.

Sniffing at the mess, it wasn't her floor so she didn't really care if someone wanted to make a mess of it, Sonya looked back at the man. "Yes. You failed to ask for it back, it's mine now."

He was enough of a clothes snob to have been wearing silk shirts from the first time she met him, and this one was nicely broken in and very comfortable. She liked wearing it to bed now, ever since she wondered what to do with the outfit she had stolen from his closet, so she wasn't giving it up.

"Steal." She tacked on after a moment of complete silence.

Somehow magically sensing the mess, a footman appeared at the thief's door with a mop and broom. He swept up the broken pottery, mopped up the mess left behind on the hardwood floors, and then a little less than gracefully swept away.

There was probably a kitchen station somewhere nearby, because that was also around the moment another maid ducked past him carrying a new tray also past the still heavily blushing maid standing stock still in the entryway.

She didn't really care about the audience she somehow acquired. They had Spiced Black Russian Tea and was pouring her a cup, everything else was pretty much secondary.

The next unknown that entered her suite wasn't similarly ignored, but that man dismissed both maids with an arched look while handing the hitman a wrapped box done up in gaudy Christmas colors. That man, who she wanted to label either a footman or a butler, shooed everyone that didn't need to be there out when he left, finally pulling the thief's guest suite doors shut behind him.

Well… so much for the morning show.

Renato tossed the present, which she assumed was for Shamal, onto the coffee table so he could clutch at his espresso. "Don't expect anything then."

"I hadn't anyways." Scoffed Sonya, actually expending the energy to pull herself somewhat upright and balance her teacup at the same time. "Front pocket, Shamal."

Baby Mist brat guiltily lowered the makeup bag he had been investigating back into her suitcase, unlatching the front pocket instead.

The hitman blinked at the two plain wrapped parcels the kid surfaced with, shooting the thief a dryly amused look. "A book, Sonya? Entirely predictable, coming from you."

"…shut up." She managed around a yawn, blowing out a sigh as Shamal brought his prizes back over to the couch where the two of them were. "A copy of my Mist findings, in Italian. More for his education than for Christmas, but I never did really manage to help him much last year."

The dreaded 'education' word had baby Mist handing the suspiciously book-shaped package to his guardian quickly, pulling the second one free of wrappings with an overabundance of haste and a minimum of fuss.

Shamal spilled a collection of small turquoise figurines out into his pudgy palm, ranging from horses to dogs to actual figures of people but mainly in various sea-themed creatures.

"Merry Christmas kid. Go wild with them, and I'll replace what you shatter later."

"But I broke the piece of this you gave me before, Miss Sonya." He protested, looking a bit unwilling to actually try anything with the carved rocks now in his hands.

Rather sweet of him, but a little silly too.

"I figured you would, the gems we use like that don't tend to last very long." She admitted with an absent shrug. "The shards can still be used, slip one into the possession of someone bothering you and they'll start hallucinating on Mist Flames. Then you can either mock them or get away clean. I know a Rain that does the same with Tranquility laced sapphire shards."

Baby Mist suddenly looked evilly contemplative of what she just told him.

Renato pulled his nose out of the kid's copy of her research, opened his mouth for something but seemed to realize something else, then blinked a bit wildly as he shut his mouth without saying what he had originally wanted to say. "Don't do it to anyone in Vongola, Shamal."

"Aww… but-"

"No." The hitman repeated sternly, side eyeing the thief lounging on the kid's other side. "Not until you're ten or so."

Sonya didn't have an opinion on that, so she sipped her tea silently when the brat looked to her for some help to change his guardian's mind.

(ooo000ooo)

(Monday the 25th of December, 1967 continued. Iron Fort, Italian Republic.)

"Don Vongola, you wished to see me?" The Russian Storm-Cloud asked as she was led inside the man's office by one of the timid-seeming maids.

Instead of gawking, which half of them finally stopped doing and started being professionals, some the Vongola staff was now cringing around her. It was fast getting on her nerves even worse than the staring had done.

That was probably showing in her expression, because the maid made some fast tracks out of the room.

"Miss Sonya, is there any way you could stop unnerving my people?" Timoteo asked a touch dryly as she swung her gaze back to him.

"I now stand still and they will flinch from me, I fail to see how I might affect that in any positive manner."

The Don gave a very put-upon sigh, which she really was only half-certain was faked, setting his pen down on a blotter and leaning back in his chair as he studied her.

Raising an eyebrow at the action, and only idly wondering why he was doing it, the thief flicked her eyes around at the office instead.

Because… books.

Built into the wall behind him, Timoteo had an entire wall of bookshelves she was itching to investigate and maybe abscond with one or two. He had a very nice big window she could probably sneak through.

Which would've been a bad idea, not only was this an office of a Sky but likely the room was heavily guarded when he wasn't in it as well.

Three of his Guardians were even in the office with them too.

Coyote Nougat was apparently guarding the man's back, Ganauche was doing some kind of busywork, and her fellow Cloud Visconti had apparently been helping his Sky deal with his work.

Tyr the Sword Emperor was also lingering against the wall behind her, if she wanted to just overlook the Flame users in front of her in her estimation of the security of this room.

"Miss Sonya," Timoteo called her attention back to himself after a long moment, "I was wondering if you wouldn't mind discussing your research into Dying Will Flames with me."

Sonya blinked at the man, wondering why he wanted to know. Italy had to be far ahead of her in terms of knowledge base, she barely started a decade ago. "…I suppose?"

"Renato had a few things to say about your research, including the reasoning behind the jewel you gave young Shamal." He started, giving her a mildly expectant look.

…she didn't quite know what it was he wanted, since that wasn't a question. "Yes? And?"

"Young Shamal ended up doing a few things I had previously thought outside the range of a Mist that young, including but not limited to very…" the man considered for a moment, then continued when he found the word he apparently wanted, "…robust creations that ended up terrorizing some of his equally young contemporaries while your jewel lasted. He now seems to be a bit ahead of where he should be for his age."

"…and?" She repeated herself, still confused.

Shamal was a very skilled little Mist for his youth, even stronger than Usov had been when he started tripping over his Flames. While slightly proud a Sky of Timoteo's age and experience was impressed with the baby Mist's strength and skill… that also wasn't a question.

"Oh… I also gave him a few more this morning, so you may wish to watch for that happening again." Sonya tacked on after another beat.

Ganauche's forehead suddenly impacted his Don's desk, entirely baffling the thief.

…that guy not only had a bad habit of choking on air, but apparently liked to damage himself. She couldn't see any Lightning Flames either, so that will probably leave a bruise.

Wasn't there supposed to be three Ganauches?

Maybe Ganauche the First ends up unwittingly killing himself?

That would be pathetic.

"Miss Sonya, are you not going to explain why you gave Flame focuses to a child that young?" Timoteo tried again, sounding a little stern that time.

"I gave Shamal that first rock for defensive reasons, if he weaponized it then it is your own fault he does not feel safe here or is bored." The Russian returned, frowning slightly at the Boss that was not hers trying to sound disproving over her actions. "If Shamal doesn't feel safe, I'm sure Renato or I could find somewhere else for the brat to stay for the rest of his childhood."

"I am sure he was only bored, and maybe a little irritated at the repeated claims that you did not exist told to his face." He reassured her evenly, lacing his fingers together and giving her a level stare over them. "I am also sure that problem is now solved, with your visit out here to see him."

She felt another twinge of that odd feeling a Sky like him gave a Storm-Cloud like her, reminding her that not only was this Vongola's Don but she was supposed to be on her best behavior.

"So, the brat's bored? Huh." Baby Mist needed to put some time into learning to read.

Sonya could before the age of four and the kid was almost five. Admittedly she had completely cheated in terms of maturity and already knowing how to read English but learning to read Cyrillic had required some effort on her part.

Renato only told her that Shamal wasn't yet reading by himself when the kid got preoccupied with his Christmas gift of shiny new Lego bricks to build houses for his new turquoise figurines with and leave underfoot.

Those fucking things hurt.

She was halfway convinced the hitman had given that as a present just to have a good laugh at her swearing a blue streak in Russian when she found that out firsthand. Not very graceful of her, but she had less than five hours of sleep and just wanted a little more damn tea to wake up properly.

Also, Sun Flames being used on one's foot felt weirdly ticklish.

Shamal had looked so sorry about her getting hurt Renato healed up any possible bruise just to avoid the waterworks.

Maybe it was the hitman touching her foot?

That had been kind of weird.

A sigh, pitched just a touch too loudly for her to believe was real rather than merely attention catching, drew the Russian out of her thoughts.

Timoteo was rubbing at his temple, looking strangely exasperated as he sank backwards into his overly ornate looking, burnt orange padded chair.

Why did he look exasperated?

She had answered his questions so far, hadn't she?

She was being nice and trying to make the good impression Tatiana had wanted her to do.

"How did you stumble onto the jewels you gave both Renato and young Shamal, Miss Sonya?" The Sky asked pretty bluntly.

"I started as a jewel thief." Hadn't she told the hitman that too?

Why was he asking if he likely already knew that?

"You steal them, then give them out?" Ganauche tried to clarify out loud, earning himself a deadpan stare from the thief.

"Of course not, those are from my collection of gems to try fitting to Flame users."

Visconti gave a little cough, stubbornly gazing sedately out the window when she glanced in his direction. In response, Coyote Nougat dug out a couple high denomination bills in lira from his wallet to shove at the Cloud in disgust.

Sonya wasn't sure what was going on but had the idea it was something to do with her.

Especially when the Lightning Guardian sighed himself, dug out his own wallet, and threw a large wad of money he rolled up over the thief's shoulder likely to where Tyr was lingering.

Nono Vongola pinched the bridge of his nose, now looking strangely amused as well as a little long-suffering. "Miss Sonya, how did you stumble upon the idea of these gemstones you fit to other Flame users?"

"Mafia Land, they sell these rings for Flame users and I wondered what stone they held."

"Did you ever find out?" Visconti asked, thumbing through the Storm's money and pocketing it when he was satisfied with how much was there.

"I think they're sapphires, or a similar crystal type."

The Cloud Guardian nodded, to show he was still listening to her even if he was watching his Sky's expression. "Personal experience?"

"Unfortunately." Frowning, Sonya thought back to the glimpses she had gotten of the Flame rings in Mafia Land and compared them to the results she had gotten from various stones. "I cannot be certain just yet, so don't quote me on that."

Sapphires didn't scorch, which was the only other feature she had yet to match to that gem-type to be certain.

Actually… maybe the Flame rings were made out of industrial sapphires?

She had yet to try those instead of jewel-quality ones.

"Unfortunately?" Echoed the other Cloud, shifting his gaze from Don Vongola to her.

"Sapphires implode under heavy use." The thief explained, holding up her left palm where she still had several small scars from the first sapphire she ever tried. "I don't hand them out for that reason, too risky."

"Do you have a method to sort others to certain gems?" Visconti asked next, after getting a good look at her palm.

"No, everyone I've tried prefer wildly different stones. Even if they share a Flame type."

Polarization might explain that, or the degree of it. Sonya had to start over with the new knowledge of the color of the stone not mattering much to what type of Flame she was testing, and her personal theory that Polarization was more of a degree of inner or outer demonstration of Flames than an either-or thing.

"Sapphires are the only type of gemstone that will reliably work for everyone I've tried, but it's not something I would recommend actually using for anything."

She probably needed to pull another jewel heist or three to either substantiate or reject the theories. Joy.

"Would you mind informing us when you find out a reliable method?"

Likely, this was what the whole conversation was driving to. The thief wondered why it was it took a Cloud to get to the point when the Sky was supposed to be 'Harmony' incarnate.

Shouldn't Timoteo have understood a Cloud, even one like her, wouldn't appreciate roundabout conversations?

"…Shamal and Renato are one thing," the Russian repeated her words to a hitman almost more than a year ago in a neutral tone of voice, "I have no reason to go out of my way for anyone else just yet."

Just yet, because the future was a very perilous thing to plan on. Giving them the hitman as a possible link to her because it was the man's fault she was here at all. Hopefully this would enable Vongola to assume they had whatever they wanted from her and would mainly leave her alone after this.

…yeah, she wasn't banking on that either.

"Thank you for taking the time to answer a few questions, Miss Sonya." Timoteo told her in an only slightly pained tone of voice, also for some reason looking mildly amused. "I heard you may be leaving in a few hours?"

"I have to get back, hopefully in time for my foster mother to give birth." She confirmed with a measure of bemusement.

He only asked four questions, and half of those were during the 'small-talk' part of it. Was that all he wanted to know?

"Tyr will return your weaponry." The Sky informed her, glancing to the assassin himself behind the thief. "I hope you enjoyed the Ball, my dear."

"It was surprisingly fun, for something that had way too many people for me to really enjoy attending." She responded obediently to the conversational gambit she did recognize from Lisa's lectures and giving the man a small curtsy. "Thank you for hosting me, Don Vongola. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Miss Sonya." He repeated, now for some reason looking strangely resigned.

Tyr opened the door of the Sky's office, allowing the thief to pass him into the hall first.

"Tungsten, steel, gold, and spinel?" The Sword Emperor questioned quietly halfway to her guest room suite, holding out a hand full of precious metals and jewels to her.

"A Flame-resistant metal, a less resistant but still durable metal, something shiny to qualify as jewelry, and my personal stone." Sonya answered with a touch of amusement as she took her 'arsenal' back, wondering if he sent someone else to get her weaponry appraised or if he went himself.

No comment about the Flame-resistant metal, so either he was opting to ignore it or didn't have those checked. Which… slightly irking, if he was going to check on the rest of her jewelry why didn't he identify what alloy the original Bec de Corbins were?

Tyr in a jeweler's store asking about her tiny gold axes or the tungsten Bec de Corbins should not be that funny of a mental image. It should be scarier, the man was an assassin, but was he as polite to everyone else as he was to her?

It made him seem a lot less intimidating.

"I can use red tourmaline as well, but my last piece with it was broken this past year and I have yet to replace it."

The master assassin hummed, a small lilt at the end informing her he was interested. "The key necklace you used to wear?"

"Well… it was a key, wasn't it?" Sonya asked in return, strangely fond of something that had been really more of a joke than something necessary.

"What thief needs a key?" Tyr asked blandly, looking at her out of the corner of his eyes.

"I didn't, thus the joke." She admitted sheepishly. "It was more of a timesaver than actually ever needed as a key to what I couldn't unlock."

The man frowned, thinking it over, then looked at her fully. "That, Miss Sonya, is a bad joke."

A thief in possession of a master key, which would never see much use as a master key.

"I know." It really was a terrible joke. She blamed Cherep for infecting her with a bit of his dorkiness. "Since I failed to say so last night, Merry Christmas Master Tyr."

The Head of the Varia nodded shortly in return, tilting his head as they came up to the hallway she had lived out of for the last week. "I do not qualify for a Christmas Kiss as well?"

…oh, was that what Ganauche wanted last night?

Sonya blinked as she realized it, since it made more sense that the Lightning wanting a makeup smear on his face, then considered the comment. "I have my lipstick in my room, if you wish?"

The assassin merely smirked at her, the first real facial expression she had seen on him. "I will abstain this year. Merry Christmas Miss Sonya."

(Monday the 1st of January, 1968. A Mafia Land Ferry.)

Cherep was entirely bemused to learn she had attended the mafia ball, after filling her in with all the circus news she had missed since leaving, but at least did seem accepting of why she did so. "Right, Renato. I keep forgetting his name."

"How hard is it to recall it?" Sonya asked out of confusion. She never had a problem like that, did he crack his head open practicing for his stunt work next year or something?