houseofcards_rp | ota {when in Rome}

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ota {when in Rome}

One of the benefits of being heir-apparent to one of the Deck's oldest families, Ivona had long since decided, was that everyone knew who you were. Which, in turn, meant that she never had to stand in line, wait to be seated, or was ignored in favor of another, lesser customer. Which wasn't to say that she flaunted her name and Rank, absurd; she didn't have to.

No, most of the shopkeepers were more than happy to cater to Milady Ivona's every wish and whim--it probably helped that she was usually a generous tipper, too, regardless of the service, be it dry cleaning, shoe repair, special orders or simply having a latte in the corner deli down in Town. And it was a heady feeling, being courted thus. Ivona stifled a chuckle as poor Jamison was loaded down with his lady's dry cleaning, signing off on the ticket and adding a good twenty percent extra.

"There's a good lad, James," she said with an unsympathetic smile, pocketing her checkbook. "And do take care not to wrinkle my Valentino, if you please."

The Two, all but buried under clothing bags, grunted agreement and staggered out of the shop, Ivona following. She had several other stops to make this afternoon; bookstore, shoe store, market--she'd been craving some strawberries with real cream for a few days and was determined to procure. The day was hers, and she was long overdue for a bit of indulgence.

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Clive watched her for a moment as she wandered down the street, shopping as if she was the Queen of the whole Deck. Sometimes, he thought, she'd had that air about her; at least a little bit. And for a moment he truly thought about tucking tail and running as fast as he could in the other direction.

"Ivona," he said, however, stopping the over loaded two to take the items from him with a smile. "You shouldn't make him carry so much, it isn't good for the back."

She paused with a raised eyebrow, a bit surprised to see Clive out and about. Hn, things had changed since she'd been away. But that particular thought didn't derail her oh-so-charming smile, saying equably, "Then how fortunate am I, that the King of Spades is going to cart my dry cleaning back to the Castle."

Jamison looked panicked, but didn't dare move or refuse his King taking the bags.

"And even hang everything up nice and neat in my closets," she finished, sparing the Two not a glance. "My most profound gratitude, Sire."

"Now, love. Is that any way to say thank you?" He asked, looking at Jamison and offering him a sympathetic smile before looking back at Ivona. "You didn't come by to say hello when you got back. I didn't know if I should have been offended or not. I decided on offended, as that usually seems your goal."

He watched her for a moment, before looking out into the market. "Can I buy you some tea?"

"I thought it formal enough," was the blasè reply. With a spark of ire, Ivona took her clothing back and gave everything back to Jamison with the curt order of, "Quick march, James. I'll see you in the morning, dear."

The Two stammered acquiescence and fled in ignominy, more than happy to leave his lady and his King to their...whatever it was. Watching him go, Ivona twitched her lips and remarked, "I don't abuse him, you know. He's actually very good, if a trifle...twitchy."

Looking back at Clive, she said, "I emailed you my report, I felt that sufficient, what with previous events. And it goes both ways, love," she drawled a touch sharply, "you know where my office is, and you knew I'd returned. So. Let's not point fingers, shall we? As for tea, I'd be delighted. After I stop at the bookstore; I've an order to be picked up."

"I can't imagine why I wasn't running to your door right away, honestly. You're such a delight every day." He said, taking a rather deep breathe before offering her a bland smile. He watched as James left with all the fires of hell at his heels in order to get away from them.

"To the bookstore, then. I wouldn't dream of making you miss your order." He said, with his most charming of smiles. Admittedly, it was easier to snipe at her than it ever had been to try to flirt. "How was your trip?"

She gave a little toss of her head. "Mm, neither can I, actually. There are times I find myself missing your 'welcome home' greetings, lover." Ivona gave him an arch, knowing look as she started back down the sidewalk, headed for the bookstore. Those "greetings" hadn't been flowers, chocolate and a hug, either.

"The scenery was lovely," she answered as they fell in step. "I turned down four offers of marriage, two propositions to return with the respective dignitaries and become their mistress, and declined a rather prestigious position in the Austrian government." She chuckled in sly amusement.

"Other than that, it was business as usual. Air fare has become ridiculously expensive, and the quality of their service has declined congruently."

"I...can remember." And it certainly hadn't been a terrible time spent in that regard. "However, I do have obligations to be mindful of certain other opinions in the matter. Seeing as I am now...seeing someone." He's pretty sure they are 'seeing' each other at least.

"But I am glad that your trip went well, what all with the quiet chaos that has been our home. I am sure your mother, in fact, is very grateful to have you back. Perhaps there can be talk of arranging a proper marriage again." But not between him and her, oh no. Never that one.

Someone. Ivona rolled her eyes at that. "Yes," she drolled dryly, "I've heard all about it. My congratulations. I wish you hundreds of fat, burbling children." God, the very idea made her skin crawl.

"Mother was overjoyed, of course. Disappointed that I didn't return towing a husband and title in tow, but c'est la vie. I have no desire for an arranged marriage, you know that." And the steel in her voice backed it up. "If it comes around, it'll be my choice, as I'm sure you recall, Sire."

Don't go there, Clive. Just--don't. Because no matter how much she hated him, Ivona was still strong enough to admit--only to herself--that she did still love him, the pathetic wretch.

"Oh, I do recall." Clive said, with a bit of a sigh before pressed his lips together. "However, I don't see why you have to so...antagonistic toward Amy. She's done nothing to you, and is rather sweet if you bothered to know her."

He stopped and smiled at a passer by before he opened the door for Ivona into the bookstore. "Can we all just make nice?"

Ivona's smile was just as falsely cordial. "Rather sweet for an alcoholic? Or rather sweet for someone who falls apart every time the wind changes, you mean?" Don't be stupid, Clive; Ivona was born a Spade, too. She knew how things were. Especially with a pathetic lump such as Amy Sinclair.

Preceding him into the bookstore, she cut a glance back over her shoulder. "Be careful, or when you leave her alone and bereft, she might actually be unsalvageable this time." Ivona swept in regally, not even looking back. Yeah, he deserved that one.

Clive stood at the door, watching her for a long moment as he pressed his lips together and suppressed the urge to snarl at her. It wasn't worth it to make a scene, he knew, but that did not stop him from feeling the temptation rise.

"What are you trying to get at, My Lady?" He asked in a low voice when he caught up to her again. "That I would chose to cause Amy some sort of pain for...fun?"

Already perusing the shelves for the books she wanted, Ivona didn't bother turning around. She knew Clive wasn't about to cause a scene, oh no, which more or less gave her carte blanche as far as verbal sallies went.

Thumbing through a tome, she replied absently, "Not at all, Sire. I'm sure you somehow manage to justify your actions accordingly, to help you sleep at night, or whatever."

She snapped the book closed and returned it to the shelf, moving down a section and running her finger down the spines before selecting another. "And I'm sure you just adore playing the 'hero' for the poor pathetic girl. Since you can't do otherwise."

"Would if kill you to get over it?" He snapped after a moment, his voice still low as his eyes narrowed a little bit. "I am sorry that we didn't end in the fairy tale you wanted...but don't I would greatly like for us to be able to work together."

He glanced the way of the shop clerk, before he took a sharp breath and set his jaw a little in his most stubborn of manners.

"Tea was probably a bad idea," he said after a moment, "so I dearly hope you're shopping day goes well." He should really learn to not try talking to her.

"Not at all, Sire," Ivona replied breezily. "I've survived without you for this long, haven't I?" She smirked a chuckle. "Honestly, Clive, you're not as coveted as you believe you are. Trust me on that one."

She didn't even glance up from the book she was skimming.

"Thank you most kindly. It's been a peach thus far."

Now, she did look up, bestowing a brilliantly bright smile for her monarch/ex-lover/man-she'd-gleefully-strangle-breathless-who-happened-to-be-the-one-she-still-cared-for.

"I'll be sure to convey your compliments and good wishes to your grandmother tomorrow. No doubt she's been bereft of your company more often, since your social life has escalated."

If it wasn't for the hair, Zoe thought as she stepped out of the shoe store, she would have thought that Charlotte Kattalakis was going down the street, poor abused minion and all. Most probably would have found that a preferred outcome, really; Zoe's mother might be a bitch, but most people thought a Heart bitch was preferable to a Spade bitch.

Still, she just stepped out of Jamison's way when he looked like he was in danger of dropping the entire pile, and tilted her head to one side. "Milady Ten," she murmured, before looking again at the Two. "I generally have my packages delivered." Then again, Jamison could be for the entertainment factor.

Ivona was in the process of checking email on her phone when she heard the greeting, glancing up to see...the accountant--Kattalakis, yes. The Heart-turned-Spade who was, ironically enough, engaged to Fox. And wasn't their nuptial date coming up soon? She'd have to check. Later, when she had ought else to do.

As it was, Ivona smiled cordially, although that peculiar quirk of her eyebrow might signify anything, and replied, "Congratulations." Although...whether she was referring to the upcoming wedding or the Six's seemingly nonchalant comment was impossible to tell.

Saturday. But no reason Ivona should have it emblazoned on her memory since she wasn't invited. It wasn't anything personal; given that she was marrying Victor Fox, it also stood to reason that the reception was going to have to be small to be tolerated.

She merely inclined her head, though - which was another gesture that could signify anything. Upper crust snobbery wasn't only taught in the sharp Suits, after all, no matter what the average Diamond blue blood might like to think. "Thank you," she said serenely. "A red letter day." That could be the wedding day, of course.

Or the day she'd discovered that staggering Twos were rather boring.

It was just as well; Ivona hardly enjoyed weddings. No, she had plans to be elsewhere this coming weekend, somewhere far away from the idiotic hustle and bustle.

"It just might be," Ivona replied with a soft chuckle. "If your fiancee becomes overly irritated. I'd take care to keep him away from anything...sharp, Miss Six, were I you."

Zoe's lips curled up in a superior sort of smile, and she lifted both eyebrows as she gave Ivona a coolly amused look. Victor would more likely to become irritated if kept away from his knives, really. But if Ivona Wolf didn't know that, why should Zoe enlighten her?

"How fortunate for us both, then, Miss Ten," she said smoothly, "that I am not you, and you are not me."

"Oh, I give thanks every single day," Ivona assured her, falsely cordial and simply dripping with venomous sweetness. "I wish you all the best." And...whatever other horseshit cordialities she'd have to mouth before continuing on with her chores.

"I'm absolutely sure you do," Zoe drawled out as she swung her bag over her arm and turned to go. "Oh. Miss Wolf? Have a care. Your Valentino's about to hit dirt."

Wouldn't that be horrifically tragic, too.

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ota {when in Rome}

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