With a pair of quick, graceful fingers, Vito took hold of the cigarette that Chase held towards him. His expectations of the cigarette's quality were not high, and yet, as Vito brought his lips to the very place that Chase's had been just seconds prior, his distaste became evident by his facial expression; the smoke tasted of gas station...
Vito dropped the cancer stick on the ground, and began fishing his pockets for the pack of cigars that he'd decided to lug around with him, “I suppose I never took you for the type to accept second best – but then again, you chose that Thompson fellow over Jack here, didn’t you?” Vito asked, picking at the scabs of an old wound. It was interesting, the reaction that he was receiving from the pair of redheads before him; it was as though neither of them wished to start up anything, but at the same time, they both so desperately wished that Vito would turn around and walk in the direction from which he’d appeared – something which Vito would never do, unless he was given incentive. They were all standing, watching, and waiting, as though something was certain to blow at any moment. As though Vito was certain to blow.
“Actually, I’ve already found you, Jaquellene,” Vito responded, though Jack was not the focus of his attention; during his reply, he’d reached over towards Chase, and he'd held his cigar in front of her for her to light in the same way she'd lit her own cigarette. “Be a doll, would you?” he asked her, his dark eyes dancing with excitement. He certainly enjoyed having the gang back together – or, most of the gang; that arrogant, son-of-a-b*tch hadn’t joined them… though Vito was certain that the blonde who’d previously been dangling Jack above the pavement by her ankles would fill those shoes quite nicely.
“It was rather rude of you to expect that I’d hear word of our trip in some other way than an invitation. Did you run out of paper? Or are you frightened that I’ll shag Clara in the back seat while you’re not looking?” Vito spoke icily, though his lips seemed to convey an entirely different emotion; the corners of his lips had begun to curl upward into an amused grin, as though he he’d said something humorous.
“My suitcases?” Vito asked, having momentarily forgotten about them, despite the fact that they sat mere inches from his feet, “Yes, feel free to move them to the trunk at any moment,” he added, ignoring Jack’s wisecrack entirely; he’d come mentally prepared for the Jack’s endless supply of verbal abuse and witty remarks. “Though I am not certain that the abomination is capable of holding much more than what you’ve already stuffed inside of it…”
Vito dragged his eyes in an over-dramatic, circular motion, and stopped them when they fell on Chase, “She is always so difficult, isn’t she?” he asked her, though, in truth, he did not care for the female’s opinion of Jack; to Vito, only his opinion mattered when it came to his companion.
Very suddenly, Vito took a step closer to Chase with an expression of mock enthusiasm, as though he was sharing a scandalous piece of gossip with a friend, “Has Jack gone and snagged herself a boy-toy, or is Blondie over there yet another male prostitute?” A chuckle escaped Vito’s lips and danced about Chase’s ear; he was having quite a bit of fun, teasing the child.
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