forum The Enemy of My Enemy | oxo | closed

Started January 10, 2023 by @knightinadream group

tune

Dimitri Marchand is one of the wealthiest men in France and Europe. He and his family have it all. Not only does Lebeau have connections in the wealthy but also the criminal underworld of Europe. Marchand owns the media news company The Courier time and a few engineering companies, but he also has connections with the organized crime group known as Les Spectres.

The group has a rival in Paris who goes by the name "Les Fantômes", known for always being hidden and making people disappear. Their reputation is thanks to a unknown man whom is called "Fusil" who takes care of most of the hits on their targets. In reality, Fusil is not who everyone would expect him to be. Fusil is just a young man in his twenties who has to repay a large debt from his father. He has to look after his four year old niece who Les Fantômes is using to control him. They promise if he fufills one last assignment, he and his niece will be free. His last assignment: Dimitri Marchand. Only problem is Marchand himself hard to get to, so "Fusil" has to go through another way: Marchand's son.

Marchand has three children, but everyone mostly knows the youngest son for being a troublemaker. A chaotic bisexual twenty-something year old who has a thing for parties, drinking, traveling, theater, books, and fun nightly activities. After attending a party where someone makes an attempt on the son's life, his father decides to hire him a bodyguard who happens to be "Fusil".

Not happy that he has someone close to him at all times, the son decides to do everything in his power to drive this personal bodyguard away, but an unexpected force bounds the two together. With nights alone together, forced proximity, and the shared desire to escape from the life that entraps them, only one can imagine what will happen next.

• andrew (Our Supreme Lord and Overseer)'s rules
• Detailed responses that are at least a paragraph or two.
• Please try to respond at least once a day if possible. There will be times where I'll be busy, but I will do my best to respond ASAP.
• Swearing is fine.
• No smut, if it gets to that point, we will just skip over it. References to it are okay.
• Template will be posted when someone joins. We can discuss roles and such. Preferred this to be mxm.
• Sorry for all the reading. I believe that is it for now. If you have questions or ideas for the rp, please let me know! :D

aaaaaaaagh I know we already have an rp together but this looks so nice,,,, may I???

Yeah sure! Do you want to be Fusil or Marchand's son? I'm fine with either so it's all good

Swag!! I'll take Fusil if that's alright.

Awesome! Here's a template. I'll post my character as soon as I can.

Name:
Age:
Gender:
Sexuality:
Appearance:
Personality:
Background:
Other:

alsdkfj cool

Name: Theodore "Theo" Jean Allaire
Age: Twenty-six, but looks slightly older.
Gender: Cis Male, he/him
Sexuality: Totally Super Into Women And Only Women (he's gay.)

Appearance: Theo is of mixed race background, his mother Moroccan and his father French. Theo is 6'2" with a fairly broad build, mostly a rectangular body shape. He has light brown skin and a broad, flat nose. His eyes are narrow and slightly upturned and are a medium brown in color, the color of hot chocolate as his niece once mused. His hair is kept short on the sides and really only lets it grow out to an inch on top. His hair is dark, dark brown and naturally very curly. He has a faint five o'clock shadow for the days he forgets to fully shave. Theo has a kind smile, when he actually cracks one, and a strong face that only softens when he finally unclenches his jaw. He usually wears all black, or at least goes for something of similar. He enjoys tuxedos made of fine fabric, but he's not quite rich enough to afford those, so he opts for the cheaper versions.

Personality: He's a quiet man with a sturdy demeanor, one that's rarely ever cracked. Theo has been described as stone cold with only the mission in mind. He's determined and ruthless and always has a thousand plans in his mind. Theo is a master at cracking down situations to the bare bones and working a new way out. He tends to always put his emotions second and the job first, often leading to lots of muddled thoughts and feelings and pent up rage. However, despite his frigid demeanor, Theo is a kind man at heart. Never in his life would he think to wind up in these types of situations. Blood and murder quite literally make him sick to his stomach, and his situation never fails to make his head spin. But his niece is the only family he has left, and he'll slaughter all of France if it means to keep her safe. To say the least, Theo is completely, entirely stressed about everything all the time, but manages to keep in deceptively under wraps beneath a cold glare.

Background: Theodore was born in a small town just outside of Paris. Growing up, he always made weekend trips with his sister and parents to Normandy, where they would reside in a quaint beach house. He attended school, was awarded high honors for his academics, and even participated in a successful recreational football team. His father, an avid hunter, also taught Theo how to properly wield a gun and knife, though he always had a lurking feeling that it wasn't just to be used when hunting game. Theo never thought his life would be anything other than this. He would take up his father's business with his sister and they would continue their small legacy in peace. However, his father urged Theo to go into something different, to leave the "family" business to him. Reluctantly, he agreed.

He began college at the University of Bordeaux, studying to be a chemistry major. His sister decided she would go later, instead deciding to get married to a wealthy man. When Theo was twenty-two, it all went to hell. His father was busted for laundering money for Les Spectres in Les Fantômes territory. The crime syndicate managed to cover it all up, but not before Les Fantômes managed to get ahold of Theo's sister and her newborn daughter, Claire. Her husband, the snake, was working with the Fantômes the entire time. They killed Theo's parents and his sister in revenge, the only way they'll let Claire go is if he complies and kills to right the wrong his father served. Killing wasn't something he ever intended to be good at, but he supposes life plans change. He's been working under the guise of Fusil for the past four years. He tries not to think of all the lives he's taken since.

Other: He's skilled in many methods of assassination. Poison and guns are his favorite ways of killing. They're easy and quick. Theo has also gone by many different names throughout his hitman career: Pierre Lavigne, Paulo Monet, Esteban Dupont, Gabriel Corbin, the list goes on and on. Theo keeps a pistol beneath his suit jacket and cyanide capsules in his watch.

Name: Achille Florian Hugo Marchand
Age: 23
Gender: Cis male (He/Him)
Sexuality: Bisexual
Appearance: Achille cannot help that he stands out in the crowd. Looks wise, he takes after his mom. Sculpture-like features mold his face. He has a Roman nose shape along with an oval shaped head. Achille is 5'10" with a rectangular mesomorphic build and a slim waist. His skin is a pale ivory shade. His eyes are sky blue. He has golden hair that he keeps trimmed short and parted to the left. Now Achille has a new scar on the right side of his lower neck.
Personality: This young gentleman is the life of the party, but do not let his charms and vibrant energy fool you. Achille is more than aware of his good looks and wealth, and he knows that you can get away with a lot with those two things. He is a natural observer, but he cannot be someone on the sideline; it's not his thing. Achille is a sweet person. His heart is pure, espeically compared to his father and brother. He often hides any part of him that doesn't fit the facade. He is bold, and 86.4% of the time he doesn't care. Does he tend to be dramatic? Yes, but there is more to him than the chaos that the news always reports.
Background: There was always something about Achille from the start. Him being the youngest Marchand child, he has had it easier than his older brother (Eugéne) and sister (Margot). Sure he was usually left alone, but that only gave him an opportunity to explore his surroundings. If he wasn't looking through every nook and cranny, then he was stuck at his mother's side. His mother, Dalila, was always planning an event or working with a charity organization. She always dragged little Achille to things, and he loved it. He wanted to be like her.

But life isn't always about planning parties, helping people, or going to see musicals. His father sent him off to boarding school at 16. That was when Achille learned he was bisexual. He also had a secret relationship with the prince of Spain that carried on until it got leaked a year later. Not only did the relationship get outted, but so did he. Thankfully Margot saved him from their father and brother's wrath. Eventually everyone in his family was accepting, although he has his suspicions with Eugéne.

Achille went to college to study public relations and history at the University of Paris, but he also studied abroad in the University of Milan for a year. Now he follows in his mother's footsteps as an event planner. Achille likes to work with charities and NGOs for LGBTQ+, women, immigrants, and children. He is always out attending things or staying out and partying. Sadly for him, his world is going to turn 180 really soon.
Other: Achille loves books. No matter where he is or what he's doing, he always has a book on him. Even if he's rewatching Le Samouraï or one of his other favorite movies, he will have a book on him. Want to woo him? Give him a book. Want to piss him off? Take the book away from his hands.

(Great, thank you!)

Three weeks ago Achille attended a party in the 11th arrondissement of Paris then ended up in a hospital two hours later. Blood stained him and his light blue short sleeve button up shirt as he was laying in a stretcher as ambulance sirens wailed in the background. His memory was fuzzy. All he can recall was being tipsy and making out with another party goer then suddenly feeling a blade digging into his skin. A friend caught what was going on then tackled the man to the floor while someone called for an ambulance.

Everyone at home was livid. Somehow his father banned him from leaving the house till they find a bodyguard. No parties, no outings, no hook-ups, no dating, no libraries, no theaters, no nothing! Achille tried to protest this, but his arguments were no match for Eugéne's. Even asking his mother to put in a word was no use and he has been trapped ever since.

So that is what was going on with Paris's favorite young gentleman. Now it is ten-forty five in the morning. Eugéne came in to tell his younger brother that the new bodyguard will be arriving at eleven. Seeing his younger brother in bed still, Eugéne clicked his tongue and left to wait for the bodyguard outside.

The eldest Marchand child runs a lot of the operations under his father's name. Mostly the ones dealing with politics. Compared to his younger brother, Eugéne is not one for…well…everything Achille does. He takes everything seriously, and he does so with a rather fabricated can-do attitude.

"LaRue…LaRue…Please God, this man better be what the agency has told me," He mumbled to himself as he wandered outside. Leaning against a column, Eugéne stared at Emile LaRue's documents before hearing a car approach.

Watching as a man got out, he tucked his phone inside his jet black suit jacket. "Ah, you must be Mister LaRue. I am Eugéne Marchand, pleasure to meet you," He smiled while holding his hand out. "I am afraid my father has some business to attend to, so I will be walking you through some procedure before introducing you to Achille."

Theodore Jean Allaire is one thing, and that thing is not Pierre Lavigne, Paulo Monet, Esteban Dupont, Gabriel Corbin, nor is he Emile LaRue, but he supposes this is the role he's supposed to play for now. If LaRue is who Les Fantômes want, LaRue is who they'll get. His watch feels heavy; the inside of his jacket weighs him down.

Three weeks ago, Theo had been in his dingy apartment, eating his niece's cereal on the couch with her small head asleep on his bicep. Mid-bite, breaking news had flashed across the screen. Achille Marchand had nearly been killed. Theo had the unfortunate foresight to know that would be his next opportunity. As expected, a man taller than Theo knocked at the door the next morning and gently guided Claire away. He knows that they won't hurt her. At least, not when he keeps his cover and finishes his assignment.

With an annoyed sneer and Claire's wide, brown eyes still in mind, Theodore climbs the massive staircase to the Marchand Manor. It is… exactly what he expected it to be. Tall, swirling hedges, white marble, a dreadfully important-looking man standing in front of the doors.

Wiping his face of any emotion, Theo approaches the man. Dark sunglasses cover his eyes, hiding the way they briefly flick around the entry way. "That's my name," he says calmly, coolly, a voice like a low rumble. Eugéne seems like a… professional man. Unfortunately, the man is not Dmitri. It would've been much faster for everyone if the patriarch were there. The gun beneath his suit jacket is loaded, cocked, and still warm from the firing range not even an hour beforehand.

"Happy to be of service," Theo grumbles. "I'd like to skip over the pleasantries and just get to the assignment." The quicker this is, the sooner he gets to be home watching stupid cartoons with his niece.

One can always learn a person by the way they shake hands. In this case, Eugéne has learned so much from LaRue not shaking his. How fascinating! Surely Achille is going to be ecstatic when he sees what LaRue is like. That bastard is going to be so happy when he finds out that he will never be able to go out without someone keeping an eye on him.

Eugéne pulled his hand away, swiftly running it through his dark brown hair. His brows rose as he cleared his throat. "Well then, please follow me. We mustn't waste time out in the sun like this then." As he turned around, the doors were opened. He pranced through, set off to the second floor where Achille's room is.

"There are some things you need to know about Achille. Of course, we all know what happened just a few weeks ago," He sighed. "He may be twenty-three, but sometimes he acts like a child. We've had many incidences where we caught him trying to sneak out of the property. He has done it successfully so many times. Achille has a talent for these kinds of things. He comes up with plans to get out of the house and none of us will see him till ten o'clock the next morning."

As he talked, Eugéne passed through the foyer and made a right passing by the entrance to the dining room and so on before going up the stairs. "Now there is nothing wrong with going to parties or operas or musical performances or whatever, but we almost lost our beloved Achille. We don't want him gone or get into trouble, so that's why you are here." Achille's room was the second to last door on the left. Eugéne practically sped over before stopping right in front of it. He paused then looked at LaRue, "You must make sure he never gets out of your sight. Never." Then he opened the door and beamed, "Achille! I have someone here for you. His name is Emile LaRue and he is your personal bodyguard."

The bed was freshly made. Across the door next to a large window, Achille sat at his desk with The Picture of Dorian Gray in his hands. He was in a royal blue silk robe. The v-neckline revealed the newly created scar from that night. Lifting his chin up, he turned it to look at Emile. His eyes looked up and down, then they returned to the book. No interest at all.

Theo sighs, a deep breath from the bottom of his lungs, as he watches the man of luxury recover from an unshook hand. To be frank, Theodore hadn't even noticed an invite for a handshake. Perhaps he had been too enamoured in the landscaping, or maybe he simply didn't wish to perceive the friendly gesture. I'm going to have to be more careful. Simply not perceiving details is something Theo can't afford to indulge in. He must stay sharp, alert–present in the moment. Determined to overcome his mental fumble, Theo follows Eugéne into the manor and through the grandiose hallways.

He thinks back to Claire and how she would play princess. Theo was assigned to be the King or a Knight, but his favorite role had always been to play the part of the kind dragon. A human with too much power is always a dire thing. An impenetrable creature with wings and a fanged smile would without doubt appeal to Theo. Not to mention in Claire's imagination, he could breathe fire. Only if that were reality. He'd be far from France. He's always heard Greece is lovely this time of year.

"You can trust me," Theo claims, his low, grumbling voice reaching every corner of the hallway. "I won't let anything touch Achille." Not for the time being. Not until Theodore gets within range of Dmitri Marchand and his blood has been spilled around a golden bullet. "This is far from my first job." How many times has he done this before? Lurking undercover and in the shadows with Claire on his mind and a cyanide pill in his fingers. With a sick feeling in the pits of his stomach, Theodore dismisses the thoughts. A good thing too, for Achille Marchand's door lays directly down the hall.

He waits for the brief introduction to pass, eyes flicking from one brother to the next from behind the mirror of his sunglasses. Assuming they look rather odd indoors, Theodore clears his throat and removes them. He carefully folds them and slips them into his front jacket pocket. "Pleased to meet you," he says curtly, shortly, and without any tone at all. "I'm here for your protection, Mister Marchand."

Achille tried to return to his book. Where other people find silence to be absolutely awkward, he finds opportunities in them. The opportunity to read that is. Not to mention he is not fond of having some man tail him every single place he goes from now on. So he almost dies and then his father and Eugéne now finally decide that it's time to upgrade security. Oh how he adores this family.

As Emile spoke, his fingers curled against the sides of the paperback cover. Mister Marchand. Being called so is always amusing to him. If he was in a better mood, he would have laughed. Instead, Achille turned his head to stare at the bodyguard. "Charmed, Macho Man," He said in a deadpanned manner. Meanwhile his brother sends him a frustrated look. "You know my name. Call me Achille. Nothing else."

Admist the silence that was lingering between the three, Eugéne's phone played Chopin's Nocturnes. The older brother lifted the left side of his suit jacket to pull his phone out. Once checking to see who it was, his eyes lit up. "Oh!" He turned to Emile. "Forgive me, but I must take this. And Achille-" Eugéne pointed at his brother. "You cannot fire him. Only Father and I can. Be nice."

By the time Achille came up with an insult, Eugéne had his phone pressed against his left ear and was walking down the hallway. "Such a prick," He whispered to himself. Somehow his mood became lighter and more lively after his brother left. Everything is always better when Eugéne isn't around. Alas, he still has one more problem.

In his peripherals, he observed Emile. He hummed while turning to the next page. "You are going to be incredibly bored and I will make you regret this. I pity you already."

Theo spares quick, flickering glimpses around the room as he gauges any sort of potential exit, for both an emergency and to constantly watch. Achille won't be an easy target to keep an eye on, if Eugéne's words reign true; for both his sake and the youngest son's, Theo must be on his guard. He doesn't intend for this to be going for the long run, but plans are always bound to change.

The room is clean, which Theo always supposes is a plus. The bed is made, the floors are neat, the curtains are drawn and allow the brisk mid-morning light to filter in through the glass. There are bookshelves with more books than Theo has ever read in his lifetime. There are classics and contemporaries, varying in all shades and hues. There has to be dozens of genres, all organized in whatever manner Achille devised. Tall drapes, fancy lighting fixtures, a desk more expensive than Theo's dingy apartment–All of the luxury almost makes him queasy. How is he supposed to carry on like this? God, does he pray for this all to be swift. He doesn't want to imagine what Claire is experiencing at the moment.

The eldest brother leaves with a quick goodbye, delivering a thinly veiled threat to the younger. Theo blinks as he watches the oldest go. "I can assure you, Achille, that no harm will come to you under my watch," he announces, scripted and irritated at the entire ruse. He takes a step further into the room and adjusts his cufflinks. "But you underestimate my determination and you overestimate your ability to evade me." Whatever lie he's supposed to live, Theo is determined to at least find some reprieve from it. It's true, what he said. Theo is damned determined and faster than he looks. It would take one hell of a man to outsmart and outrun him, and Theo thouroughly doubts it's the one sitting a few meters away, reading The Picture of Dorian Gray.

Sucking in his breath, he briefly shut his eyes. Does he really need someone to protect from harm, especially when he is at home? This makes no sense to him. Although Achille wanted to protest this new situation, he smiled, "Thank you, Emile. I feel so safe now."

Either he is incredibly bored or Emile has presented him with a challenge. Achille is not one to back down from one. He has been hiding in his room for the last three weeks. Hiding from the world that he misses so much. Let's not forget how he yearns to live again. After long nights alone with nightmares and having to deal with people like Eugéne pretending to care about him, he needs something to help him return back to the fine dashing young man he is. And he has an idea.

"Oh please, you underestimate my determination," He smirked. Closing the book, he placed it down neatly on the top left corner of the desk. Looks like Dorian will have to wait for later. Achille rested his elbow against the desk. He turned his body so that he was able to get a better look at Emile.

There is something about the bodyguard that piques his interest. Emile looks so tensed and yet, Achille finds his eyes to be captivating. Not to mention the curly hair or the way his suit is outling his form. If they were not under these circumstances, he would have seriously considered asking him out to dinner, but alas he wants Emile gone. The question is how is he going to make that happen?

"So you are just going to stand there unless I get up and go somewhere? God, that is awfully boring," He shook his head then continued on, "How about we go on a walk and get to know each other? I already am dressed for the day, I just like this robe. What do you say, Emile?"

The bodyguard doesn't respond, instead Theo watches the man calmly, the steel of his dark eyes never lightening as he glares. Well… glare is probably too harsh, but Theo has always been told his line of sight is far more intense than he intends. The way Achille moves screams of money, luxury that's only engrained in your soul after being entirely raised in it. Theo tries his hardest not to be a bitter man, but it proves difficult when he's going to be working in glamour and disguise for the next god-knows-how-long.

The Marchand heir… is certainly someone Theo rarely encounters in a lot of his day-to-day life. He's flashy and exuberant and clearly believes it's fine to go out in public wearing only a low-cut robe. No judgement for the rich and powerful, Theo supposes.

"A walk," Theo repeats. He squints and blinks before folding his arms over his chest. "I don't see why not. Not that I truly have a choice in the matter. Wherever you go, I'm assigned to follow, Achille." He nods his head and steps to the side, gesturing with a tilt of his head towards the door. To get to know each other, Achille had claimed. Theo is no stranger in speaking in half-truths and full-lies. It's likely he'll let the man entirely drive the conversation wherever he pleases, Theo only answering in short monosyllabic answers and phrases. "Lead the way."

All he could think about was, what made Eugéne and their father pick this man that is standing before him? Surely he is great at fighting and protecting or whatever, but Achille has doubts that the bodyguard has any concern for him aside from the fact that it's his job too. Achille wonders if Emile has ever smiled in his life. He tried to imagine what a smiling Emile would look like, yet he just couldn't. The bodyguard is so rigid that he thinks that Emile could be a Greek or Roman statue. Certainly has the looks for one anyways, but still, his point stands. Imagine being at a party or gathering with having a guy like Emile behind you at all times.

This will have to change. Alas he has no immediate idea as to how to go about this. On the other hand, coming up with plans on the spot can be fun at certain points of time. He can't have this bodyguard sticking around for long.

Wherever he goes, Emile has to follow. Guess he will have to put that to the test. "Hold on. It's awfully warm in here." Achille undid his robe, revealing the white t-shirt and dark blue tech pants then sat it down on the bed, neatly folded. Compared to what he normally wears, the outfit is boring, but he thought that he would have the whole day by himself with his books. It seems God and fate had other plans in mind.

Turning on his heel, he strolled out into the hallway. "We'll have to get you fitted for a better suit," He said, mostly to himself though. "And for a late 18th century costume as well. I cannot have you sticking out like a sore thumb in a plain black suit in Versailles. It'd just ruin the event and the kids won't enjoy the dance. You'll need to blend in."

Achille glanced over at Emile. "Do you like to dance? I'm seriously trying to imagine you dancing, but I cannot think past your tough demeanor."

"There's nothing wrong with my suit," he claims, voice low in what he hopes is a warning. Theo isn't here to play games. He isn't here to humor some spoiled rich boy. He's here for an assassination for the same men who forced him into a suit. The suit fits just fine. Les Fantômes makes sure that he looks his finest when on a mission adorned in a jacket and tie. They're always black. It's is always the easiest to wash blood from.

Theo doesn't know why the hell Achille requires an 18th-century costume; he doesn't want to ask. He has to blink and mentally rub his hands across his eyes. The closest thing he had ever had to… well, anything other than a suit or ratty sweats had been a cheap cape Claire had got him with the help of a particularly kind neighbor. You can't be a prince without a cape! She had insisted before tackling him to the ground.

"Dance?" Theo repeats, trying to hide his grimace. He follows the other man with his sight, glancing up and down as he takes in the startlingly casual outfit. "They don't pay me to dance, Achille." He shakes his head and joins the blond outside the room. Once again, Theo reaches for the sunglasses hanging from his jacket pocket, unfolding them in preparation for outside. His watch clinks against the hard shell of the shades, his cyanide reserves shifting from within their golden case.

With a set jaw, Theo has to wonder if he'll have to kill Achille as well. Eugéne too. Theo vaguely remembers there being a third sibling, a sister between the brothers. A brief image of their trio of corpses next to their father's flash behind Theo's eyes. His stomach drops, a swell of nausea swoops in his chest. At ease, Theodore. He whispers internally to himself. Their bloodshed won't be necessary.

Achille hummed while looking Emile up and down. "There is nothing wrong with it," He concurred, "But it does not shape your form properly and that shade of black does not suit you. It's on the lighter side when the sun's out." He will have to call Mister Delon about the suit, but they will have to go to Aline's shop about the costume. While thinking about needing to go out, he realized something: now with Emile, he can finally go out, right? No he is not going to ask that, he thinks that he is fine already so he will go out. Hopefully he will be able to get out Emile's sight too.

There is so much that he has to do. Him being stuck at home getting better had put so many plans to a halt. They had to push date of the charity party in Versailles he has been planning. Margot agreed to help out taking care of some of the planning even though she was in Sweden. He missed out on so much these past few weeks. It was nothing but terrible.

"Dance?" He tried his best to say it the same way Emile had; it was so funny. His brief moment of laughter was disrupted by the continuing stern of this delightfully wonderful bodyguard. Stopping to take a breath, he rolled his eyes. "No, you heard me incorrectly. I know you're not being paid to dance, I'd find other people for that," He snorted then continued, "I was asking if you like to dance when you are not on the job."

For a bodyguard, Achille thinks that Emile is not a good listener. The man sure is amusing nonetheless. "I guess I can see you being a good dancer. Maybe at something like…ballroom dancing or slow dancing. Ooo! Or maybe salsa. Ehhh no. I take that back." He stared at Emile with squinted eyes. "You seem to be one who enjoys slower tempos, is that right?"

If this is what the next undetermined amount of time is going to look like for Theo–constantly trailing behind this eccentric disaster of a man–he's going to need a long vacation afterwards. After that, he'll finally be able to pick up a new job, support Claire, and finally leave all this blood and gore behind him. What could he do with half a chemistry degree? Go back to school? That would mean leaving Claire. He could always get a low-paying retail job, but then he'd be wasting away. God.

He tables away his mental debate to turn his attention towards Achille. "Why do I need a costume? I won't be attending any of your parties as a guest. I'm there for solely protection, not to entertain your whims." He has to sigh at the man's next words, already feeling his patience growing thin. "I'm never off of a job, Achille. I don't have time to do insignificant things like dancing."

"I don't enjoy any tempos," Theo bites before taking a long breath. A prickly exterior won't get him anywhere. He shouldn't have to play the long game, but plans change. If worse comes to worse, Theo won't get an opportunity to get in close with Dmitri Marchand. If what he's observing is correct, Achille won't allow Theo to get anywhere near his father. He's going to have to play nice. He's going to have to at least win some of Achille's trust. It doesn't mean he has to like it. "I don't dance, sir. I never learned how to, nor do I see a need to."

Somehow he must have struck a chord in Emile. He was sure about this by the way the bodyguard spoke to him. Poor thing already sounds annoyed by him. Achille huffed then rolled his eyes. "I just told you, Emile. I am hosting a dance party for children who will be dressed up and I am going to have you dress up because I don't want you standing out or upsetting the guests."

He's not convinced about Emile and how "insignificant" dancing is. Honestly, Achille is offended! A grimace settled on his face. He argued, "You are a human being who lives on this planet, and you say that you don't need to dance. That's bullshit. I don't believe you and I will teach you how to dance. Just you wait." The change in the Emile's tone was less agitated, but he still felt the energy coming off.

Goddamn this man is absolutely suffocating. Everyone knows how to dance! You really don't need to take a class on it or even have functioning limbs for it in order to dance. It's all about the mood. How unbelievable! This is his new hell. He needs to get away from Emile right now. And while his first thought is childish, he acted upon it by bolting down the stairs then making a left. Impulses can be lifesaving at times.

Achille has not run like this since before he was almost killed. Nevertheless, he used all the power in his legs to go past the kitchen area where his mother watched him go by then hide in the study. Dalila leaned forward to see if anyone else was there. She sighed while shaking her head then waited to see if anyone would follow.

I hate this. So, so much. "I apologize that my inability to dance has offended you," Theo grumbles. This is proving to be the worst mission of his career and he's only known the man for fifteen minutes. Still, Theo is used to stealth ops and quick assassinations. Having to actually stick around and form some semblance of a relationship is entirely foreign. The only people he had to talk to on previous jobs had been security guards, bartenders, and the boss. God, he could go for a drink right now.

Right as he opens his mouth to speak, Achille bolts.

"You have to be fucking kidding me," Theo hisses as he pockets his sunglasses and tears down the hallway. Stairs prove no issue, Theo taking them at least five at a time down. He uses the banister to help him swing around the corner, finding the smallest clues that gave way to Achille's location. A simple disturbance of a rug, a slight swoop of a flower, a recovering fold of a curtain. Theo finds himself going past the kitchen, through another hallway, and coming to a dead end.

When it's abundantly clear that Achille had nowhere left to run, Theo deduces that he must have hid. With a scowl, he begins to search the area. All the doors are shut tight–except one. He checks over his shoulder and approaches the room. His hands itch to wrap around the pistol concealed beneath his jacket, but he has to remind himself that this isn't like his other missions. With the toe of his shoe, he nudges the door open.

"Achille?" He calls. "I don't have time for your games."