corin remembers back to encounters and favors with them: a handful of times in the USA, a few times in various parts of southeast asia, and that one time with susan and peter in the south of france. okay so they keep it in the family, corin thinks to himself as hot water sluices down his body, and he tries to juxtapose this new knowledge with his memories, but he doesn't really remember anything out of the ordinary. except maybe susan's cleavage.
and lucy's smile -- he had a raging crush on lucy and flirted wildly with her, and while she flirted back and giggled readily and didn't rebuff his casual touches, corin also got the impression of being held at arm's length. but whatever, they were both having fun. you take what you can, you know? and one time, when they were drunk in bangkok, lucy even kissed him back.
+
to no one's surprise, lune is too busy to come down to negros oriental himself. to everyone's delight, the person he sent in his stead is aravis.
"vissy!" corin gurgles, holding out his arms, and aravis rolls her eyes as she sinks into his embrace.
"i told you never to call me that," she says, and kisses them all on both cheeks, smiling. and later, after the pleasantries ("oh corin, i don't smoke weed anymore." "yeah... so do you wanna smoke some weed?" insert a confused pause here, and then a sigh: "...oh fine.") and the updates of whereabouts ("cor wanted to come but the government inspector is bearing down on the project again." peter says sulkily, "miraz," and leaves it at that.), they are all at the lean-to not far from the compound, eating the bomb-ass adobo and coconut juice from the shell.
corin loves this place (as 'place'-ish a roadside shack by the woods can be), has a soft spot for the people who run it and their easy manner: benny, an fearless old man with a paunch, and marga, his gentle wife. benny calls him 'pare' ('buddy') and marga calls him 'hijo' ('boy'), and corin calls them 'tito' (uncle) and 'tita' (aunt) and sometimes gets extra helpings for free.
"how is your papa, hijo?" marga asks when she brings them beers.
"busy as always," corin replies. he looks at aravis. "apparently he's in jakarta?"
"taipei," aravis corrects. "he was in jakarta yesterday."
"you become more beautiful every time, hija," marga smiles at aravis, who blushes and thanks her. "you tell your husband, don't work too hard. you tell him, don't forget his beautiful wife, ha?" and marga bustles back to the kitchen area, smiling contentedly to herself.
"is my brother taking care of you, aravis?" corin drawls, and she punches his arm.
"stop. and yes he is. but we've got more important things to talk about."
"excellent," says edmund. "tell me, how are pete and i not to die at the hands of the mafia?"
aravis smiles. "the grace of god."
edmund stares at her. then he scowls and jabs his cigarette in the air in her direction. "don't fuck with me."
"i'm not!" she crows. "think about it, edmund. the italian mafia, right? staunchly catholic, right? the mafia has connections with the catholic church. and lune, he was raised catholic and he has connections with the clergy still." aravis pauses. "weren't you guys raised catholic?"
peter and edmund exchange glances. peter exhales cigarette smoke and says, "i mean, like you said: the mafia are catholic."
"so," edmund hesitates, "what? susan and lucy find some priests?"
"no," aravis replies. "a bishop. one bishop in particular."
no subject
corin remembers back to encounters and favors with them: a handful of times in the USA, a few times in various parts of southeast asia, and that one time with susan and peter in the south of france. okay so they keep it in the family, corin thinks to himself as hot water sluices down his body, and he tries to juxtapose this new knowledge with his memories, but he doesn't really remember anything out of the ordinary. except maybe susan's cleavage.
and lucy's smile -- he had a raging crush on lucy and flirted wildly with her, and while she flirted back and giggled readily and didn't rebuff his casual touches, corin also got the impression of being held at arm's length. but whatever, they were both having fun. you take what you can, you know? and one time, when they were drunk in bangkok, lucy even kissed him back.
+
to no one's surprise, lune is too busy to come down to negros oriental himself. to everyone's delight, the person he sent in his stead is aravis.
"vissy!" corin gurgles, holding out his arms, and aravis rolls her eyes as she sinks into his embrace.
"i told you never to call me that," she says, and kisses them all on both cheeks, smiling. and later, after the pleasantries ("oh corin, i don't smoke weed anymore." "yeah... so do you wanna smoke some weed?" insert a confused pause here, and then a sigh: "...oh fine.") and the updates of whereabouts ("cor wanted to come but the government inspector is bearing down on the project again." peter says sulkily, "miraz," and leaves it at that.), they are all at the lean-to not far from the compound, eating the bomb-ass adobo and coconut juice from the shell.
corin loves this place (as 'place'-ish a roadside shack by the woods can be), has a soft spot for the people who run it and their easy manner: benny, an fearless old man with a paunch, and marga, his gentle wife. benny calls him 'pare' ('buddy') and marga calls him 'hijo' ('boy'), and corin calls them 'tito' (uncle) and 'tita' (aunt) and sometimes gets extra helpings for free.
"how is your papa, hijo?" marga asks when she brings them beers.
"busy as always," corin replies. he looks at aravis. "apparently he's in jakarta?"
"taipei," aravis corrects. "he was in jakarta yesterday."
"you become more beautiful every time, hija," marga smiles at aravis, who blushes and thanks her. "you tell your husband, don't work too hard. you tell him, don't forget his beautiful wife, ha?" and marga bustles back to the kitchen area, smiling contentedly to herself.
"is my brother taking care of you, aravis?" corin drawls, and she punches his arm.
"stop. and yes he is. but we've got more important things to talk about."
"excellent," says edmund. "tell me, how are pete and i not to die at the hands of the mafia?"
aravis smiles. "the grace of god."
edmund stares at her. then he scowls and jabs his cigarette in the air in her direction. "don't fuck with me."
"i'm not!" she crows. "think about it, edmund. the italian mafia, right? staunchly catholic, right? the mafia has connections with the catholic church. and lune, he was raised catholic and he has connections with the clergy still." aravis pauses. "weren't you guys raised catholic?"
peter and edmund exchange glances. peter exhales cigarette smoke and says, "i mean, like you said: the mafia are catholic."
"so," edmund hesitates, "what? susan and lucy find some priests?"
"no," aravis replies. "a bishop. one bishop in particular."
peter and edmund stare at her expectantly.
she says, "his name aslan."
randomly: VATICAN MAFIA (http://www.bibliotecapleyades.net/vatican/vatican_mafia.htm)