Lavinia narrowed her eyes when the punk showed himself, his hands in his air. She, of course, did not let her guard down with that sign of submission. In all of her past experiences with the Addarios, most of them would just flee and get back-up when confronted like this. She guessed that didn't apply to all of them.
"All right, all right," the punk said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Looks like you caught me. Guess, I'll just have to surrender and turn myself in." The boy stepped closer, stopping at a good distance away from her. She stepped back, her gaze switching from him to his other companion and then back to him. Two against one. However, it seemed like the punk had more experience in combat than his companion; but one could never be to sure. The salamanders began to making even more sounds, pulling at their 'leashes', eager to have a go at the Addarios. Despite her creatures obvious blood-lust, the punk had a bored but confident posture.
Since he was closer, Lavinia could make out black vine-like tattoos covering his arm. Definitely a strange tattoo to bear, but it was quite common to have one as a mobster. She didn't think to much into it. "So tell me," he said. "What's a Campione girl like you doing in Addario territory? I'm pretty sure you got your own coffee shops, so ya didn't need to make the trip all the way down here. C'mon. Spill it."
Lavinia audibly sighed. She had two options; bluff or tell the truth and hope that the punk didn't do any back-handed techniques on her. She chose the latter.
"Well," she began. "Ah, believe it or not, but I kind of.... forgot that I was in Addario territory," she murmured. "You know, I really do love that coffee shop and I can't believe that -" That she stepped into Addario territory without realizing it. "That you rascals dared to take over that part of town. We'll be getting it back real soon, just you wait," she threatened.
Cold.
Noel Makarova sniffled, his back to the wall as he wrapped his arms around himself. Gashes criss-crossed his arms and his leg, each of them bleeding. The crimson droplets rolled off his body, splashing against the floor. Without very much interest, he ran a finger over one of his cuts. His blood was cold. Noel chuckled, running the same bloody hand through his hair as he stared up at the clear blue sky. A nice day, warm and sunny. Yet, to him, everything was a desolate frozen hell-hole.
He didn't have the heart to even use his light core to heal himself. In the back of his mind, he knew if he even dared to cast another spell, his heart would stop. He sniffled again, rubbing his eyes as he sighed. The man he had killed just minutes before was, in fact, a Campione soldier. He put up a pretty good fight, but Noel supposed lady luck was on his side today. Within seconds of killing the Campione, he had dashed away from the scene of the crime, just dodging the NYPD and reporters. It was a close call, but now he was in some dank and smelly back alley alone.