The Voodoo That You Do


amato_icon.gif ethan_icon.gif munin_icon.gif

Scene Title The Voodoo That You Do
Synopsis Munin decides that Amato could use some company, and Ethan stops by to deliver a mysterious envelope.
Date November 4, 2008

An Inexpensive Hotel, Long Island City

The hotel room which Amato has been staying in for the last few weeks isn't top notch, but it is far from a Days Inn quality place. It's still only one room with an alcove-like foyer to the bathroom, but it does have a couch in addition to a chair and desk, and the decorating is actually somewhat appealing, in terms of hotel room design. The shades are drawn over the single window, keeping out the late-night lights of the city that never sleeps.

It's a time when all good little boys and girls are in bed asleep, but Amato is not only still among the concious, but he is also still mostly dressed, wearing dress pants, black socks, and a simple white, sleeveless tanktop. He sits on the couch with his leather-bound, softcover Bible in his hands, deep in thought as he reads. If the way the pages are split is any indication, it would appear that the blonde churchman is somewhere in Proverbs.

There's a familiar knock at the door, one Amato should immediately recognize as belonging to a certain young woman — only Munin raps her knuckles against the wood in exactly that pattern. But if there should be any doubt about the identity of the person standing outside in the hall, it dissolves when the sound of the visitor's voice drifts under the door. "Amato?" she asks, muffled by the carpeted floor and the insulation in the walls. "It's Eileen." Her tone, although light and somewhat frivolous, contains a note of caution as well. You never know who might be eavesdropping in one of the adjacent rooms. "Are you there?"

The fact that Amato had not expected a visit from anyone tonight, let alone Munin, is enough to surprise him. He shuts the book with a near audible thump before he unfolds himself to get to his feet. His steps toward the door are determined, yet cautious. You never know who might be on the other side of the door, regardless of what the voice sounds like, or who else might be there.

Before he opens the door, Amato peers through the little peephole to confirm that it is indeed Munin, but his face is not that much happier upon solidifying that fact and turning the knob. The young woman is met with one of the Italian's more stolid and stony expressions. "It is late," he says after a moment's silence. "What's wrong?"

"You've been cooping yourself up inside the stuffy old hotel for an age," Munin says, green eyes sweeping all the way down Amato's body and then back up again, her gaze settling upon his face. "That's what's wrong." It's not often that she sees him without a dress shirt, and while she might want to get a better look at parts of him she doesn't normally see, she decides to keep her focus on his face for fear of making him uncomfortable. "Do you mind if I come in for a few minutes?"

The only notable thing that's any different with Amato's physique is the still somewhat raw looking scar on his shoulder from Kazimir's turn at playing doctor after Amato's flight from Sea View. Still, when Munin looks him up and down, the pale man's face pinkens noticeably. "I'm lying low, as we all should be, until I am given work to do." Ethan's in charge of Phase Two, after all. Inhaling deeply, Amato straightens his posture and stands to one side as he pushes the door open further to allow the young woman entry.

If it weren't for the empty duffel on the dresser and the clothes out of sight in the drawers and closet, one might think the room was vacant, and the black book on the coffee table in front of the couch was the copy the Gideon's installed and was simply out of place. "Not at all," Amato says half under his breath, poised to shut the door once Munin has come through.

Munin steps inside the hotel room, but rather than take a seat on the edge of the bed she opts to sit down in the middle of the floor, cross-legged like a skinny little Buddha with the soles of her feet turned up. If she notices the heat in Amato's cheeks, she declines to comment on it. This is a small mercy, however, and one that does not last; the first thing she does when she gets comfortable is remove her gloves, scarf and jacket, revealing the milky white skin of her bare shoulders and the uppermost curves of her breasts. It isn't that she dresses skimpily, but it's hard to find clothes that fit right when you're as petite and rail thin as she is.

But Munin cannot be blamed for the effect her actions have on her host, and he isn't about to blame her for them. Strippers? Prostitutes? Other wanton waifs of women? They're another story. This is Munin, and if Amato has a tragic flaw, it's sitting in the middle of the room he's called home for the last few weeks. He swallows as he crosses the room, doing his best to avert his eyes from skin he'd dare not touch even if he weren't an ashen-winged angel, and reinstalls himself on the couch. Amato leaves the book on the table and fixes his blue eyes on Munin's face, trying to keep away from her tangled hair. "Did you fight with Ethan again?" Because there must be a reason for her visit.

"Ethan? No. He and Gabriel—" Munin pauses, staring straight ahead, and pinches her lower lip between her teeth. "Sylar," she corrects herself. "Ethan and Sylar got me out of a fix last night in Chelsea, though things didn't go down quite the way I think he was expecting them to. Messy. Maybe not the way Kazimir would've wanted. I figured I ought to look in on you in the meantime. The others are too busy, far as I know. Picking up all the different pieces."

Whereas some time ago, Amato would cringe at the mention of the man known both as Gabriel Gray and Sylar, they wash over him now without any effect. He simply watches Munin. How her mouth moves when she speaks. The little manerisms that color her speech and make it hers. Amato does, however, listen as well. "I will have to contact Ethan to see if he has a task for me," he remarks in reply, his voice bland. He does smile a little at the end, though, unable to hide pleasure at the fact that Munin wanted to see him. "I am glad you came."

Enter Cockblocker. The door rattles as several pounds are delivered to it from outside. Who else could it possibly be when Amato is about to be happy? The only logical answer could be Ethan Holden. Standing outside, dressed in a suit with a silk blue tie he looks rather classy tonight. He waits patiently for the door to be opened to him.

Just as Amato recognized Munin's knock, Munin recognizes Ethan's. "Speak of the devil." Though what he's doing here, she isn't sure. She doubts he tailed her here — if he had, Bran would have alerted her to his presence. "Sounds like it's your lucky day after all, Amato. Maybe he does have a task for you."

But Amato couldn't look less thrilled if he tried. /More/ visitors, and it is just as likely that Ethan will drag Munin away in addition to giving him something to do. Not that work is unwanted - the Work is paramount - but Ethan's brash way of doing things conflicts with Amato's vary nature. He rises stiffly and walks to the door, once again confirming it is Ethan before he opens it just enough to look at Ethan in the hallway.

As the door cracks open, Ethan has positioned himself to lean against the doorframe. Matching Amato's gaze he gives a bit of a smirk upon greeting. No reason they don't have to be polite to one another.. Well there is, but still. Then his smirk disappears as the man just stands there looking bored. "Aren't you going to invite me in?" The man asks softly, if he is aware of Munin's presence, he makes no note of it.

"If it is necessary," Amato replies just as dryly before he opens the door a bit wider, revealing Munin sitting on the floor and his rather un-lived in looking hotel room. He remains silent, giving the other man time to step inside before he closes the door once again.

That has the man's eyes narrowing a bit. "Who's taken the jelly out of your doughnut?" The Wolf asks as he enters, allowing Amato to close the door behind him. His eyes go down to Munin. "Ey Princess, you sleep alroight? 'Ow was your day?" The man asks sincerely before looking back over to Amato. "'Ow's this place treatin' you, blue eyes?" Ethan has never really taken a look at the other man's eyes, though he is certainly running out of names that he hasn't used on Amato yet.

"Like a baby," is how Munin slept last night. "Amazingly." By the time she and Ethan got back to the flat, she was so tired, so emotionally exhausted that she collapsed on the couch, still dressed, and didn't rise again until eleven o'clock the next morning. "Sylar's staying at Siann Hall over in the Bronx. I have the pigeons looking after him."

Amato allows a moment of niceties before he lets out a tense sigh, folding his thin yet defined arms across his chest. He glances to Munin, a flash of an apology in his features before he settles the stone back on the other man. "It is a bit late for a social call, Ethan," he says slowly. "If I were unhappy with my arrangements, I would have changed them by now. What did you need?"

"Good." Ethan says in response to the young woman, giving her a genuine smile. Then the Brit looks up from the girl to Amato. "Fuck. You're being a little shit tonight, aren't ya?" The Wolf asks with a bit of incredulity in his voice. "No, 'ere's a glass of water, no 'ave a seat. Just straight to the 'why the fuck are you 'ere'." Ethan frowns a bit at the man. He then shoots his own apologetic glance to Munin most likely because of the cursing.

"It's not like he has a glass of water to offer," Munin points out, her voice soft, "and he isn't stopping you from sitting down." She raises both her dark eyebrows at Ethan, arms folded across her chest, fingertips buried in the fabric of the turquoise peasant top she wears. "Why are you here?"

Unless Ethan wants one of the flimsy hotel cups, Amato can't do anything to contradict Munin's point. He lacks even a kitchenette, though there is a small coffeepot in the bathroom (not that Amato has made any coffee). He remains silent as the other speak, and Munin's defense inspires a somewhat deep yet subduded breath of pride. The tightening of his jaw bites back the smirk, but Amato does raise one eyebrow in a silent echo of Munin's question.

"Whot'? You on 'is side now, too?" Ethan asks of the woman, his brows furrowing down at her. Then he looks up to Amato. "What? I 'ave to 'ave a reason to come and visit my family." The last word is impressed upon. He goes to take a seat on the floor next to Munin. He raises one knee and places his hand atop it as he surveys Amato. "I just want to be 'avin good company with me best mates… By the way Amato, does your voodoo work on another person's 'air?"

"I don't take sides," Munin says, casting her gaze downward at the ballet flats on her feet. After a moment of silent contemplation, she begins the elaborate process of removing them while Ethan and Amato are busy taking verbal jabs at each other. She'll only stick up for Amato so much — if he doesn't learn how to deflect the other man's barbs now, then he never will.

If Ethan is family, then he is the annoying brother-in-law that must be tolerated and catered to. The comparison of his gift to a pagan art stiffens him and pulls his lips into a firm frown, cracking the stone. "No," he says firmly, annunciating the single syllable as much as possible. "Air does not hold what God has made of a man, and the Breath of Life is something we all partake in. I can see from hair, blood, bits of skin…whatever pieces of themselves that God has fashioned." Amato once again glances to Munin, if only because this fact is one she knows well. But her demure posture strikes a chord in him, and he softens his face and posture with a softer sigh. "Why?" he asks, looking back to Ethan with tired curiosity.

Irritation flicks across Ethan's features. He gives a glance to the other Brit before looking back to Amato. "'Air.." Then, "Hair" He enunciates very clearly so Amato could fully understand him. "That's what I said." The Wolf murmurs to the man. He tilts his head back for a minute before looking back to Amato. "I might be bringin' some hair back for you to examine. I also have some work for you to do." Reaching into his pocket, the man pulls out an envelope. He throws it on the carpet. "Look at it later."

Not to be further slandered for his lack of hospitality, Amato moves to the door and opens it again. "You should do your country proud and cease to butcher its fine language, Ethan. It is a pity when foreigners speak it with better skill than natives, don't you agree?" Smiling, Amato bends slightly at the waist. "Have a good evening."

If Munin had a glass jar big enough to fit Ethan and Amato, she'd cram them both inside and shake it up like her brother used to do with insects when they were little, just to see what would happen. Maybe, instead of trying to tear each other apart with their mandibles, they might end up having some sense knocked into them. Is it so much to ask that they have one conversation, just one, without it ending in someone being shown the door? After Ethan is gone and Amato has shut the door behind him, she sets her shoes aside and climbs up onto the couch where she makes herself comfortable and settles in for the night, chin resting in the crook of her arm. She's too tired to make the trip back to Dorchester Towers without Elias' help, and Elias isn't around — Amato, whether he likes it or not, will just have to put up with the squeaky sound of her breathing until morning.

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