Dominic never was a fan of mornings. The bright sunlight always seemed too harsh, too exposing of things better left unseen, or unnoticed. Harsh and unyielding, burning down on his neck and shoulders like it could burn the sin right out of his skin. He preferred nights. The soft glow of the moon, the cooler temperature of the air, the safety of darker deeds wrapped in caring shadows. The light was vulnerable. The dark was on his side.
Unfortunately, life didn't allow him the ability to rise with the moon. As a child, the sun had demanded his attention for education, as a young adult, for prison. Now, for responsibility. Dominic rose too early, and cursed the bright rays that hid behind the heavy draw of his curtains. His mornings were rarely interesting. His bed sheets always cold. The house quiet. Gunner wouldn't wake for hours, the others hadn't been around. As usual...Dom was alone, even when he really wasn't.
At this point in his life, the eldest Bates had a routine. Piss, shower, brush his teeth. Face the image in the mirror looking back at him. He took a moment to trim his beard, to run gel through his fingers and push the longer hairs at the top of his head into an artistic point. He sprayed himself with a dash of rustic cologne, then went to get dressed. A black cotton v-neck, his fathers watch fastened around his wrist, paired with fitted black trousers and feet shoved into untied combat boots. Clothes made the man, but Dominic had never been one to be made.
He had lunch with his mother. A weekly endeavor, always penciled in between this day or the next. While Dominic loved her unquestionably, her searching gaze always felt like the sunlight - like it saw too much, and seeped into parts of him he'd rather leave unseen. Dom let her chatter settle around him like a comfortable blanket as they ate at their usual restaurant, more focused on his chicken, but always with one ear tuned to her. She never expected much of him personally, for which he was grateful. While not the precious jewel in her eye that Simon was, Dom was her first born, and they held a certain understanding for each other that none of the others would ever truly get.
"Your brother didn't come home last night."
Dominic hummed in order to let her know he was listening, but didn't bother to reply. Simon was a big boy, for one thing, and just because he lived with their mother didn't mean she should stick her nose in every move he made. If there was something to be worried about, Dom was sure he would know before she did.
"I just...worry about him. It's a big world out there," she said it with all the nonchalance any mob wife would. She may not have been born in their world, but Carmine Bates was no delicate house flower. However, he supposed with any mother in her position, he could understand why she worried about what her children got into.
Dominic sighed and stretched out his long legs under the table, glancing up briefly from his food. His mother was studying her wine glass with rapt attention, but she eventually met his gaze. There was a bit of since, and he knew that this time his usual grunt of agreement wasn't going to cut it. He needed words. "He's fine, mother."
He didn't know that for sure, but he'd be willing to bet his youngest brother was either sleeping off a night well spent, or wrapped around some nameless body still in bed. Either way, it was nothing to worry about. Not yet, at least.
After lunch, he tended to some business for awhile, then headed down to the Little Lady for decidedly more-things-he-didn't-want-to-deal with. Dominic was the first to arrive to what was sure to be a busy party, but that wasn't anything unusual. He nodded to Jona behind the bar, got himself half a glass of whiskey, and sat at the far end of the bar while he waited for the room to fill up.
It didn't take long. There was chatter, a bustling staff, smoke and laughs, drinks being passed around behind smirks, something spilling down the back of Senna Zaire's shirt, Bel's barely covert gaze, both of his brothers, and his sister...Crowded. He found a spot by himself, finished his whiskey and put a cigar between his teeth.
Dominic tilted his head back against the wall, let the nicotine fill his lungs like an old friend he'd missed desperately, rose tattooed knuckles to the cigar to pull it away and blow smoke up to the ceiling. For a moment, he was at peace. For a moment, he might as well have been alone. Until he heard it, the sound of trouble. Dominic's head snapped up and over, and he watched Senna's hand connect with Bel's chest, watched her and Chloe both reach for a respective arm. It took him minutes to asses the situation he had unwisely not been paying attention to, and Dom felt his teeth clinch slightly as he waited.
With his attention now rapt, the shattering of the shot glass sounded through Dominic's ears like a gunshot, even though he wasn't nearly close enough for it to sound anything like that in reality. Irritation vibrated down Dom's spine in the realization that nothing was fucking easy, and he sat up a little straighter in his seat as he watched Bel stalk towards Gunner. Normally, Dominic would let it go, Gunner could handle himself, let Bel chew what he decided to bite off.
But this, here, was not the time nor the place, and Cristobel Zarie should fucking know that, but like most his reactions were on a hair trigger and not thought through. Dom sighed, realizing he was going to have to not only use his voice, but his authority. Finally, he opened his mouth, barked out an order. A simple one. A 'stand down', 'don't bite back'. It got not only Gunner's attention, but Simon's as well, which was extra helpful.
The last thing Dominic wanted was to not be allowed back into Jona's place, but if a fight were to break out...well, he'd do what needed to be done. For some reason, he doubted it would happen. While not adverse to messes, his current company was one that knew which battles to fight. Surely, someone would put Bel back on his leash before Gunner had to.
All in a day's work.
Unfortunately, life didn't allow him the ability to rise with the moon. As a child, the sun had demanded his attention for education, as a young adult, for prison. Now, for responsibility. Dominic rose too early, and cursed the bright rays that hid behind the heavy draw of his curtains. His mornings were rarely interesting. His bed sheets always cold. The house quiet. Gunner wouldn't wake for hours, the others hadn't been around. As usual...Dom was alone, even when he really wasn't.
At this point in his life, the eldest Bates had a routine. Piss, shower, brush his teeth. Face the image in the mirror looking back at him. He took a moment to trim his beard, to run gel through his fingers and push the longer hairs at the top of his head into an artistic point. He sprayed himself with a dash of rustic cologne, then went to get dressed. A black cotton v-neck, his fathers watch fastened around his wrist, paired with fitted black trousers and feet shoved into untied combat boots. Clothes made the man, but Dominic had never been one to be made.
He had lunch with his mother. A weekly endeavor, always penciled in between this day or the next. While Dominic loved her unquestionably, her searching gaze always felt like the sunlight - like it saw too much, and seeped into parts of him he'd rather leave unseen. Dom let her chatter settle around him like a comfortable blanket as they ate at their usual restaurant, more focused on his chicken, but always with one ear tuned to her. She never expected much of him personally, for which he was grateful. While not the precious jewel in her eye that Simon was, Dom was her first born, and they held a certain understanding for each other that none of the others would ever truly get.
"Your brother didn't come home last night."
Dominic hummed in order to let her know he was listening, but didn't bother to reply. Simon was a big boy, for one thing, and just because he lived with their mother didn't mean she should stick her nose in every move he made. If there was something to be worried about, Dom was sure he would know before she did.
"I just...worry about him. It's a big world out there," she said it with all the nonchalance any mob wife would. She may not have been born in their world, but Carmine Bates was no delicate house flower. However, he supposed with any mother in her position, he could understand why she worried about what her children got into.
Dominic sighed and stretched out his long legs under the table, glancing up briefly from his food. His mother was studying her wine glass with rapt attention, but she eventually met his gaze. There was a bit of since, and he knew that this time his usual grunt of agreement wasn't going to cut it. He needed words. "He's fine, mother."
He didn't know that for sure, but he'd be willing to bet his youngest brother was either sleeping off a night well spent, or wrapped around some nameless body still in bed. Either way, it was nothing to worry about. Not yet, at least.
After lunch, he tended to some business for awhile, then headed down to the Little Lady for decidedly more-things-he-didn't-want-to-deal with. Dominic was the first to arrive to what was sure to be a busy party, but that wasn't anything unusual. He nodded to Jona behind the bar, got himself half a glass of whiskey, and sat at the far end of the bar while he waited for the room to fill up.
It didn't take long. There was chatter, a bustling staff, smoke and laughs, drinks being passed around behind smirks, something spilling down the back of Senna Zaire's shirt, Bel's barely covert gaze, both of his brothers, and his sister...Crowded. He found a spot by himself, finished his whiskey and put a cigar between his teeth.
Dominic tilted his head back against the wall, let the nicotine fill his lungs like an old friend he'd missed desperately, rose tattooed knuckles to the cigar to pull it away and blow smoke up to the ceiling. For a moment, he was at peace. For a moment, he might as well have been alone. Until he heard it, the sound of trouble. Dominic's head snapped up and over, and he watched Senna's hand connect with Bel's chest, watched her and Chloe both reach for a respective arm. It took him minutes to asses the situation he had unwisely not been paying attention to, and Dom felt his teeth clinch slightly as he waited.
With his attention now rapt, the shattering of the shot glass sounded through Dominic's ears like a gunshot, even though he wasn't nearly close enough for it to sound anything like that in reality. Irritation vibrated down Dom's spine in the realization that nothing was fucking easy, and he sat up a little straighter in his seat as he watched Bel stalk towards Gunner. Normally, Dominic would let it go, Gunner could handle himself, let Bel chew what he decided to bite off.
But this, here, was not the time nor the place, and Cristobel Zarie should fucking know that, but like most his reactions were on a hair trigger and not thought through. Dom sighed, realizing he was going to have to not only use his voice, but his authority. Finally, he opened his mouth, barked out an order. A simple one. A 'stand down', 'don't bite back'. It got not only Gunner's attention, but Simon's as well, which was extra helpful.
The last thing Dominic wanted was to not be allowed back into Jona's place, but if a fight were to break out...well, he'd do what needed to be done. For some reason, he doubted it would happen. While not adverse to messes, his current company was one that knew which battles to fight. Surely, someone would put Bel back on his leash before Gunner had to.
All in a day's work.