Mid-March, 1792
An umber dusk fell like a heavy weight upon the heart of the city of masks. Or so it was for Bruno Cremonesi as he strolled aimlessly over the Rialto Bridge. Bruno felt restless tonight, but what was new? He was back in his home city of Venice with the world at his feet, but no coin to truly make it his own. That wasn’t entirely true. There was always his family’s money, but the Cremonesis were was a breath away from disowning him if he continued to gamble away their fortune, as he'd done after upon his return from Dalmatia.
Fuck them! When he needed them most, they sent him away to the military like a useless peasant. Dashed his hopes of becoming a surgeon. Why, it was their fault he was in debt in the first place! A flock of pigeons dove precariously close to his head, one leaving a wet dropping on his new crimson cloak. Great. Just great. The evening was beginning as a literal shit fest.
Nearby were a few cottages that were known for housing games in the back rooms. How badly Bruno wanted to join them, but temptation was a folly, and the young aristocrat was already pressing his luck. Still, he was determined to have a little fun, with or without money. With a smirk, the young man wandered over to an empty gondola tethered to the dock. A man and woman, English tourists perhaps, yammered away inside of it, with their gondolier nowhere in sight. With a perfunctory glance to his left and right, Bruno leaned over and unhooked it, laughing as the roaring oar plopped into the canal, and the boat drifted away without its gondolier.
The couple hemmed and hawed as they floated out into the middle of the canal, acting as if they’d been shipwrecked. Bruno covered his mouth with the back of his hand, stifling a laugh. Thank the stars that some entertainment in Venice was still free.
#2
He had only been here a few days so far, but he was already busy. He had yet to visit Adeline though, but he would, very soon. First he had to finish another task though and Michel did hate to leave tasks unfinished before he began a new one. Sure, this was just a pretense thing. Sure he could collect debts and he would, but that wasn’t why he was really here. His contacts in France thought it a good idea though, because they could use the money for the Revolution and well, the particular male Michel was looking for was filthy rich too. He hated people who had not built their own fortune; people who never lifted a finger to gain what they had. They just spent it and this particular man, Bruno Creminosi, was just another one of those.
It hadn’t been hard to find out where Creminosi was hiding; because he wasn’t hiding at all. He belonged in Venice it seemed and he wasn’t unknown either. And Michel had the idea that it might be easy to track him down if you just stuck around near those cottages where there was gaming and gambling to be found in the back rooms. Hopefully the younger man would not be as stupid as to bury himself further yet!
Michel had been lurking in this area for a while now and now a young man in quite the posh outfit walked by. He fit the description and he was at the right place too, so it might be him. He walked past the cottages though and instead approached a gondola by the dock. Michel watched Bruno unhook the gondola, which now floated away.
Meanwhile, Michel pushed from the wall he’d been leaning against, now approaching the younger man there by the edge of the water. How easy it would be to push him in… but he needed the money owed first. Michel smirked when he now stood a few meters behind the man, who now tried to stifle a laugh by the prank he just pulled. He was quite handsome, this Bruno, he thought to himself. But that mattered less. The job mattered more.
Michel coughed, “Pardon, Monsieur… I look for Bruno Creminosi. You… are him?” Michel asked in somewhat broken Venetian; he’d learned it but he didn’t speak it to perfection... far from it, actually. After all, he never went to any kind of school. Of course he could just speak French, because he knew that Bruno knew it, but for now, he would pretend to try and blend in.
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It hadn’t been hard to find out where Creminosi was hiding; because he wasn’t hiding at all. He belonged in Venice it seemed and he wasn’t unknown either. And Michel had the idea that it might be easy to track him down if you just stuck around near those cottages where there was gaming and gambling to be found in the back rooms. Hopefully the younger man would not be as stupid as to bury himself further yet!
Michel had been lurking in this area for a while now and now a young man in quite the posh outfit walked by. He fit the description and he was at the right place too, so it might be him. He walked past the cottages though and instead approached a gondola by the dock. Michel watched Bruno unhook the gondola, which now floated away.
Meanwhile, Michel pushed from the wall he’d been leaning against, now approaching the younger man there by the edge of the water. How easy it would be to push him in… but he needed the money owed first. Michel smirked when he now stood a few meters behind the man, who now tried to stifle a laugh by the prank he just pulled. He was quite handsome, this Bruno, he thought to himself. But that mattered less. The job mattered more.
Michel coughed, “Pardon, Monsieur… I look for Bruno Creminosi. You… are him?” Michel asked in somewhat broken Venetian; he’d learned it but he didn’t speak it to perfection... far from it, actually. After all, he never went to any kind of school. Of course he could just speak French, because he knew that Bruno knew it, but for now, he would pretend to try and blend in.
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word count: 457
#3
It had been a while since Bruno had been hassled by debt collectors. Such a long time had passed since he'd seen hide or hair of one, that he was beginning to feel almost untouchable. Consequently, he barely noticed the figure standing just a few meters away, watching him intently. When the same man, a Frenchman it seemed, asked him if he was Bruno Cremonesi Bruno didn’t even think to give him a fake name. Or perhaps, it was the fact that he was struck by the man’s crystal clear blue eyes, seemingly filled with mischief.
“I am indeed,” he laughed, an easy grin on his face, completely oblivious to the danger he was putting himself in. “And you are?”
Suddenly, the gondolier who had lost his patrons, his finger pointing sharply at Bruno, began to shout curses from the other side of the canal. Apparently he had seen the prank firsthand, and was now waving his arms as he raced over the bridge towards Bruno and the Frenchman. Bruno’s eyes widened, and he quickly turned to the other man.
“Come,” he said to the Frenchman, jerking his head towards a waiting alley, indicating for the well-dressed stranger to follow him. Donning a black Tricorne hat with an enormous white ostrich plume, and dipping it down low to hide his face, Bruno, still laughing, then dashed through the alley, his cloak fanning out behind him. and into a small tavern nearby. He figured not only could he hide from his aggressor, but he and the attractive man could also share a drink, or two. Little did he know that he was about to have more serious problems than being chased by an angry gondolier.
“I am indeed,” he laughed, an easy grin on his face, completely oblivious to the danger he was putting himself in. “And you are?”
Suddenly, the gondolier who had lost his patrons, his finger pointing sharply at Bruno, began to shout curses from the other side of the canal. Apparently he had seen the prank firsthand, and was now waving his arms as he raced over the bridge towards Bruno and the Frenchman. Bruno’s eyes widened, and he quickly turned to the other man.
“Come,” he said to the Frenchman, jerking his head towards a waiting alley, indicating for the well-dressed stranger to follow him. Donning a black Tricorne hat with an enormous white ostrich plume, and dipping it down low to hide his face, Bruno, still laughing, then dashed through the alley, his cloak fanning out behind him. and into a small tavern nearby. He figured not only could he hide from his aggressor, but he and the attractive man could also share a drink, or two. Little did he know that he was about to have more serious problems than being chased by an angry gondolier.
word count: 289
#4
Michel was at work and he was not aware that his eyes might be filled with mischief; but perhaps they were, since he was doing a job he kind of enjoyed and it served a greater and good purpose. And a part of him enjoyed seeing people suffer for their misdeeds, especially people like Bruno here. So perhaps the idea of mischief in his eyes wasn’t wrong; it was just not the kind of mischief anyone would enjoy.
“Michel Lefévre, Monsieur.” Michel replied simply, not afraid to admit his name. Bruno would be familiar with it soon enough anyway. He was about to ask the other to come with him, when the gondolier suddenly showed up, shouting curses at Bruno… who instantly asked Michel to follow him. Well, he could of course stop him, but the gondolier might hinder Michel’s purpose here. Besides, if Bruno came to trust him a little, it might be easier to catch him for real.
And so he followed Bruno through Venice without a word. The younger man was still laughing like crazy, and Michel thought this could be a long evening. He was clearly as stupid as they said he would be! Bruno slipped into a tavern and Michel followed. Once inside, he brushed his clothes and looked at Bruno again, “Enjoy making your own fun, don’t you? And running from the misdeeds?” He couldn’t help it. He would have saved it for later, but really, someone had to tell this little shit that he had done something wrong.
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“Michel Lefévre, Monsieur.” Michel replied simply, not afraid to admit his name. Bruno would be familiar with it soon enough anyway. He was about to ask the other to come with him, when the gondolier suddenly showed up, shouting curses at Bruno… who instantly asked Michel to follow him. Well, he could of course stop him, but the gondolier might hinder Michel’s purpose here. Besides, if Bruno came to trust him a little, it might be easier to catch him for real.
And so he followed Bruno through Venice without a word. The younger man was still laughing like crazy, and Michel thought this could be a long evening. He was clearly as stupid as they said he would be! Bruno slipped into a tavern and Michel followed. Once inside, he brushed his clothes and looked at Bruno again, “Enjoy making your own fun, don’t you? And running from the misdeeds?” He couldn’t help it. He would have saved it for later, but really, someone had to tell this little shit that he had done something wrong.
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word count: 279
#5
Peering out the window every now and then, Bruno, still grinning, removed his hat and cloak and took a seat at one of the tables next to the kitchen, savoring the aroma of spices and spit-roasted rabbit. The proprietor’s wife brought the two men a jug of wine. In the back room, loud voices could be heard. It sounded like a card game was going on, and the urge to join in tugged at Bruno. Instead, he turned to his newfound company.
“Enjoy making your own fun, don’t you? And running from the misdeeds?”
Bruno blinked fiercely, his jaw agape. He was instantly struck silent by the accusation, not only because it was stinging, but because it was true. In one sentence, this stranger had described Bruno’s entire young life. He’d run from the military. He’d run from Venice. When his luck ran out in foreign lands, he ran back to Venice. Bruno had spent his whole life running. His brow furrowed, and he cocked his head at Michel. A part of him wanted to huff at the offense, but Bruno decided not to get this new and hopeful friendship off on the wrong foot.
“The world is much too serious a place,” he said with a shrug. “That was probably the most exciting thing that had happened to that couple all day. If more people chose adventure over banality, life would be so much more enjoyable, would it not?”
Bruno took a long sip from his glass. The wine wasn’t great, but at least he wasn’t drinking canal water. He turned back to his new friend. This man knew him, but from where? The aristocrat was very curious to get to the bottom of that question.
“You knew my name,” he observed, blue eyes searching the other man’s. “How?”
“Enjoy making your own fun, don’t you? And running from the misdeeds?”
Bruno blinked fiercely, his jaw agape. He was instantly struck silent by the accusation, not only because it was stinging, but because it was true. In one sentence, this stranger had described Bruno’s entire young life. He’d run from the military. He’d run from Venice. When his luck ran out in foreign lands, he ran back to Venice. Bruno had spent his whole life running. His brow furrowed, and he cocked his head at Michel. A part of him wanted to huff at the offense, but Bruno decided not to get this new and hopeful friendship off on the wrong foot.
“The world is much too serious a place,” he said with a shrug. “That was probably the most exciting thing that had happened to that couple all day. If more people chose adventure over banality, life would be so much more enjoyable, would it not?”
Bruno took a long sip from his glass. The wine wasn’t great, but at least he wasn’t drinking canal water. He turned back to his new friend. This man knew him, but from where? The aristocrat was very curious to get to the bottom of that question.
“You knew my name,” he observed, blue eyes searching the other man’s. “How?”
word count: 309
#6
Michel did not yet sit down, but he opened his midnight blue cloak at least. He watched Bruno, already feeling a bit annoyed by him and his stupidity. And then he was unable to keep the words from coming; he accused Bruno very openly about making his own fun and then running away. That made the younger man blink and stare at him for a few moments… before he began making excuses. Inwardly, Michel sighed deeply. Were they really going to talk about this? Did Bruno really want that? But he didn’t know Michel, of course.
Michel removed the cloak and sat down too, watching the other man intently, “You think they find it exciting, sitting out there in a gondola on the dark water, without knowing how or when they’ll return to shore?” Michel asked, “I think there has been enough adventure tonight. The world is a serious place and it’s about time you accept that fact.” Michel explained to Bruno, who had also asked how he knew the name.
This time, he smirked, “I’ve been looking for you, Monsieur Cremonesi. Your history with running away from misdeeds is well known. Too well known, some might say. Are you even aware of how much you owe because of your gambling?” He might as well just stop beating around the bush. This youth might only understand it if he cut right to the bone. Still watching him closely, Michel picked up his glass to sip the wine too.
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Michel removed the cloak and sat down too, watching the other man intently, “You think they find it exciting, sitting out there in a gondola on the dark water, without knowing how or when they’ll return to shore?” Michel asked, “I think there has been enough adventure tonight. The world is a serious place and it’s about time you accept that fact.” Michel explained to Bruno, who had also asked how he knew the name.
This time, he smirked, “I’ve been looking for you, Monsieur Cremonesi. Your history with running away from misdeeds is well known. Too well known, some might say. Are you even aware of how much you owe because of your gambling?” He might as well just stop beating around the bush. This youth might only understand it if he cut right to the bone. Still watching him closely, Michel picked up his glass to sip the wine too.
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word count: 271
#7
Well, this was just perfect, wasn't it? Instead of having a nice glass of wine with a handsome stranger, Bruno was now being lectured by him about the ways of the world. Who did this Michel Lefévre think he was anyway? It was just like the French to put a such a damper over everything. Of course, their country was in the middle of a political upheaval, but still, that was not Bruno’s problem. Ever the gentleman, Bruno smiled through his sharp words.
“Oh please! That sounds like something my father would say.”
Bruno felt his own smile fade when the Frenchman smirked and began down a darker path. He mentioned that he had been looking for Bruno, and knew of his errant gambling debts. Bruno’s stomach did a turn. This man must have been a debt collector from one of the Paris gambling houses. Fuck. And here he was sharing wine with him! Bruno couldn’t have felt more like a sitting duck, and a stupid one that. Still, this wasn’t the first time he’d have to talk himself out of trouble. And he hoped it wouldn’t be the last.
“Those debts have been paid, Monsieur Lefévre,” Bruno explained calmly, adding a bit of flawlessly spoken French. Although his voice was steady, a few beads of sweat condensed on his tanned forehead. Stay calm. Don’t panic.
“The fact that you bring up my so-called debt, has me convinced that some sort of grave mistake has been made.”
Luckily, Bruno was armed with his rapier, and he wasn’t afraid to use it if need be. He dearly hoped that it wouldn’t come to that, but either way, his sword hand slipped carefully down towards his hip, hovering over the grip.
“Oh please! That sounds like something my father would say.”
Bruno felt his own smile fade when the Frenchman smirked and began down a darker path. He mentioned that he had been looking for Bruno, and knew of his errant gambling debts. Bruno’s stomach did a turn. This man must have been a debt collector from one of the Paris gambling houses. Fuck. And here he was sharing wine with him! Bruno couldn’t have felt more like a sitting duck, and a stupid one that. Still, this wasn’t the first time he’d have to talk himself out of trouble. And he hoped it wouldn’t be the last.
“Those debts have been paid, Monsieur Lefévre,” Bruno explained calmly, adding a bit of flawlessly spoken French. Although his voice was steady, a few beads of sweat condensed on his tanned forehead. Stay calm. Don’t panic.
“The fact that you bring up my so-called debt, has me convinced that some sort of grave mistake has been made.”
Luckily, Bruno was armed with his rapier, and he wasn’t afraid to use it if need be. He dearly hoped that it wouldn’t come to that, but either way, his sword hand slipped carefully down towards his hip, hovering over the grip.
word count: 302
#8
Why beat around the bush? The younger man might be both handsome and wealthy, but none of those things would last if he didn’t pick himself up very soon. Paid what he owed and tried to be better. Not that Michel was a prime example of someone trying to do better, but at least he had built his own fortune, compared to this man here.
The youth smiled, claiming Michel sounded like his father, “Your father sounds like a clever man then. Are you certain he’s really your father?” He had asked, and then he had explained the exact reason why he was here. The smile faded, but moments later, Bruno claimed the debts had been paid and that it was all a mistake.
“I doubt it is a mistake, Monsieur. I know your kind.” He said and leaned a bit closer to the other, across the table, looking him right into the eyes, “So, you should just admit you’ve been a bad boy and pay up.” He said with a small smirk, and then leaned back, picking up his glass and took a sip, his next words spoken casually, as if he was talking about the weather, “Unless of course, you prefer being taught a painful lesson instead.”
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The youth smiled, claiming Michel sounded like his father, “Your father sounds like a clever man then. Are you certain he’s really your father?” He had asked, and then he had explained the exact reason why he was here. The smile faded, but moments later, Bruno claimed the debts had been paid and that it was all a mistake.
“I doubt it is a mistake, Monsieur. I know your kind.” He said and leaned a bit closer to the other, across the table, looking him right into the eyes, “So, you should just admit you’ve been a bad boy and pay up.” He said with a small smirk, and then leaned back, picking up his glass and took a sip, his next words spoken casually, as if he was talking about the weather, “Unless of course, you prefer being taught a painful lesson instead.”
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word count: 231
#9
Michel’s answer was not comforting. At all. Oh that quip about Signori Cremonesi that insulted Bruno’s intelligence? That did not go unnoticed. How dare he? Bruno was a graduate of the University of Padua! Where did this man graduate from? As for Bruno's claim that this must have been a mistake, Michel leaned in and told him that he knew Bruno’s kind, adding that he should admit he’d been a bad boy should and pay up. An audible swallow came. Something about the way, that Michel called him a bad boy did things to Bruno. Things that made his already snug breeches even tighter in certain places.
“Mister Lefevre!” he exclaimed in protest, his voice rising with faux outrage. “Are you calling me a liar?” A few other patrons turned to stare, and the room grew quiet.
Then, the other man leaned back in a self-satisfied manner and threatened him with a “painful lesson.”
Under the table, Bruno’s fingers now curled around the hilt of his rapier defensively. Red-faced, his chest rose and fell in double time, betraying his agitation. His cravat suddenly felt as if it were choking the life out of him, and he fought the urge to spring from the table and flee. “Oh, no Monsieur. It is I who know your kind. You are simply a brutish extortionist, trying to shake down an innocent man.”
Whether or not it was wise to push his luck, Bruno was on a roll, and he wasn’t finished giving this scumbag debt collector a piece of his mind. He growled across the table in a more hushed tone, wary of the attention they were attracting.
“Hypocrite! You have the nerve to lecture me on the morality of my harmless prank, and here you are threatening me with bodily harm.”
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“Mister Lefevre!” he exclaimed in protest, his voice rising with faux outrage. “Are you calling me a liar?” A few other patrons turned to stare, and the room grew quiet.
Then, the other man leaned back in a self-satisfied manner and threatened him with a “painful lesson.”
Under the table, Bruno’s fingers now curled around the hilt of his rapier defensively. Red-faced, his chest rose and fell in double time, betraying his agitation. His cravat suddenly felt as if it were choking the life out of him, and he fought the urge to spring from the table and flee. “Oh, no Monsieur. It is I who know your kind. You are simply a brutish extortionist, trying to shake down an innocent man.”
Whether or not it was wise to push his luck, Bruno was on a roll, and he wasn’t finished giving this scumbag debt collector a piece of his mind. He growled across the table in a more hushed tone, wary of the attention they were attracting.
“Hypocrite! You have the nerve to lecture me on the morality of my harmless prank, and here you are threatening me with bodily harm.”
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word count: 342
#10
Michel arched a brow at Bruno’s sudden outrage, which made other patrons turn their heads to stare. The room grew quiet. Really? This was what he wanted? If he’d just pay up, everything would be much easier, but it did not seem as if he wanted this to end the easy way. No, instead, the other’s face grew red and he seemed possibly fuming, while Michel had leaned back in his seat to sip his wine. The other continued his outburst though, saying he knew Michel’s kind and claimed to be innocent once more.
The tone now grew more hushed, but it didn’t seem to get Michel all that riled up, “Of course I am. What else would I threaten you with, if you can’t admit your crime? But perhaps... bodily harm is what you want?” Michel replied from the edge of his glass and he set it down again. He glanced around the tavern and then his gaze returned to Bruno. It was kind of amusing to see him so upset… so young, so spoiled, so full of anger and no one to tell him he was wrong. Until now.
“I really don’t think it’s ideal to make a scene. Not for me… certainly not for you. I’ve already heard your family isn’t proud of the way you live.” Michel said, his town calm and casual still, “Listen, Monsieur Cremonesi… why don’t we go outside and settle this instead? Just the two of us? I don’t feel it’s right for us to be disturbing the peace of this place… do you?”
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The tone now grew more hushed, but it didn’t seem to get Michel all that riled up, “Of course I am. What else would I threaten you with, if you can’t admit your crime? But perhaps... bodily harm is what you want?” Michel replied from the edge of his glass and he set it down again. He glanced around the tavern and then his gaze returned to Bruno. It was kind of amusing to see him so upset… so young, so spoiled, so full of anger and no one to tell him he was wrong. Until now.
“I really don’t think it’s ideal to make a scene. Not for me… certainly not for you. I’ve already heard your family isn’t proud of the way you live.” Michel said, his town calm and casual still, “Listen, Monsieur Cremonesi… why don’t we go outside and settle this instead? Just the two of us? I don’t feel it’s right for us to be disturbing the peace of this place… do you?”
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word count: 294
