People had bad days. Bad days were usually caused because of a few unfortunate happenings, or just waking up in a bad mood… but Vito Dee Symons didn’t wake up in a bad mood; he went to sleep in a bad mood and woke up feeling as he had the evening prior to falling asleep.
Vito ran a comb through his brown hair roughly, wincing when he accidentally ran the comb’s teeth against the skin of his skull, and stared at his reflection in the mirror before him, trying his best to wipe the scowl off of his face in order to replace it with his usual, ‘yeah, I’m badass’ expression, but for some reason he just… couldn’t. He kept thinking about his third creator- or, why he didn’t have a third creator. Vito remembered waking up on a beach, lying on a towel as if he had been sunbathing the entire time… and wandering around London for hours in search of the hateful person who had brought him to London.
He thought back to the night he had brought Jack with him to Satin’s, and sighed, sitting down on the chair that he had moved in front of the large mirror; the sympathy he had seen in her eyes… Why had it been there in the first place? Vito couldn’t seem to wrap his brain around the fact that she had felt pity for him- despite the fact that she had said that she hadn’t, he himself had seen it in her eyes. Who would pity someone like Vito? He had everything, so what was there to pity?
The poltergeist set the comb he was holding down on the table nearest to him and inhaled slowly. His hair was combed back in the same way he always did his hair, in order to keep it out of his face, but something still felt… off. This happened every once in a while with Vito; he would look in the mirror and something about his appearance wouldn’t looked perfect in his eyes no matter how hard he tried to make it that way.
Vito stood and walked over to his closet. He pulled out a white suit with black trim around the collar, and a white button-up shirt to go underneath. He held the clothing out in front of him and examined them for a moment as they hung from the hanger, blowing slightly back and forth when the rotating fan on the other side of the room was aimed towards him. He nodded once, the suit looked just as perfect as his clothing always did, and he felt that perhaps if he dressed himself in his best clothing, maybe it would get rid of that feeling that something wasn’t right when he looked at himself in the mirror.
After shutting his closet door, Vito pulled on his clothing, thinking as he did so. What was there to do on a day when you felt as if you could just throttle anyone who looked at you oddly? Vito would find something to do; he always did, even if it meant destroying someone’s life in the process. He threw the hanger his clothes had been hanging on, on his bed and looked in the mirror once more. He nodded, well, at least he would look perfect in the eyes of the people walking the streets of London, even if his own eyes wouldn’t stop telling him something was missing.
He grabbed a pair of shades and clipped them onto his shirt before heading down the spiral staircase that brought him back down to the first floor of his club. Vito walked over to the bar and ordered a drink and brought it with him when he walked out the door to find something to do to entertain himself. He, of course, felt as if staying in a booth at Satin’s with some good wine would be more enjoyable, but he figured he would get more of that attention he so enjoyed if he chose to spend time somewhere other than his club for the day.
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Vito made his way down the streets of Diagon Alley- why was he in such a distasteful place? Unfortunately, one had to cross through Diagon Alley to get to any place worth actually spending time. Had there been any other street for the poltergeist to fallow, he certainly wouldn’t have taken the one that forced him to spend time near people who really didn’t know how to dress properly. He frowned when someone who looked as if they had gotten their clothes from a donation center knocked against him, almost making him spill his expensive drink.
Sorry? The child was apologizing? Vito smoothed the front of his suit and shot the young man a glare that could have turned someone to stone, “Who the f*ck do you think you are?” he asked in that low, smooth voice of his.