The Family Comes First. (Bubblegum Wig and Sherona)

[Sherona]

The atmosphere was tense and sorrowful, family members huddling in small groups here or there. Already sides were being chosen, and it was not even a week after the passing of the Head of the Family. Already people were vying to take the reigns, to take the power and money that comes with these reigns.

It is not that they were unremorseful, not that they do not care. The Family is everything, when one dies everyone pays respect. But Business is business, so they say. Don Frenchetti was an older man, but shrewd in his businesses. Both on the table and under, no one crossed him, but no one got cheated either. His leadership was amongst the most peaceful decades the Family had encountered, not to say that there was not unfortunate incidents along the way. However, all in all the Family was prosperous.

In the Parlor, all pictures were draped with black cloth, all except the one holding the focal point of the room. There, hung a picture of the late Don, and below the picture sits a man that might have been the very same person, twenty years younger.

Ben Frenchitti sat with his fingers templed before him. His black hair slicked back, his face almost haggard with strain, yet not a tear fell from his eyes and not a tremble in his demeanor can be seen. His dark suit was immaculate, complemented by the silk red tie. Dark eyes scan the room, both in mourning but also in a calculating manner.

[Bubblegum]

Adele studied the son of the Don; she found it odd the way he seemed to refuse to grieve, had his heart turn to ice?  Quiet sobs from the late Don's wife were the only sounds that broke the hushed chatter and silence clogging up the room. Adele almost jumped from her seat at the comment she heard right next to her.

Her mother, Carmela Cangelosi, smirked with a mischievous twist in her expression. “Puttana,” she spat while taking the thin cigarette from her mouth then setting it on the ashtray's edge. “Gran' disgraziato,” another mutter. She had been glaring at the scantily clad daughter of a capo, one child that had been known for causing unnecessary trouble within the family.

However, Adele was not surprised by her mother's coarse choice for words. She looked to Ben at this time, though, not knowing if he had caught the harsh comments or, even, if he recognized the Italian tongue.

[Sherona]

Far from a heart of ice, Ben Frenchitti was the son of a very powerful man. His emotions had no place in view of those who were either looking to him for leadership, or looking to rip that leadership from his hands.

The corners of his eyes tighten slightly as the older italian woman spits out the words of disdain. Her words find hardened ears as Ben rises, his muscular form moving sleekly as he made a slow path across the room. Here and there he lays a hand on a shoulder in comfort or reassurance, though his dark eyes never leave the form of Adele and her mother.

He knew Adele. He knew her mother, and he knew of the distant cousin whom Carmela's words had been directed. When he reached the older woman, he bent low and his face did not change expression, "Signora Cangelosi, perhaps the strain of the wake has taken it's toll upon you. Perhaps you and your daughter would like to accompany me to get some air, perhaps a bit of wine to help ease our nerves?" His voice was pleasant, his tones even, yet the hardness in his eyes left no room for most to realize that he did not mean it to be a choice.

[Bubblegum]

Adele did not waste time in heeding the words offered to herself and her mother.  She did watch her mother rise to her heeled feet with an irate scoff.  Her demeanor was always something Adele could not yet fathom, even in the presence of superiors. But even so, she stood alongside her mother and promptly followed Ben when he presented the path towards the back of the house, where a private courtyard was held outside the French doors.

Whilst her scowling mother took a seat and curtly expelled another cigarette from her ornate purse, Adele did not dare to speak out of turn just yet. It was another surprise to her to see further into what the Franchetti home had to offer.  The courtyard in which she gaped at was neatly kept; shrubbery punctually trimmed and flowers unscathed.  The tired expression that had engulfed her features seemed to be rejuvenated by the surrounding beauty.