An audience at the Office of Elder Buonocore

[Madvillain]

The soft chime of three small bells rang out, carrying the familiar melody of "La Cucaracha" through the waiting room. As the automatic doors slid open, the tune lingered in the air, blending with the faint scent of tobacco, rum and aged leather. Beyond the threshold, at the far end of a gilded chamber, Elder Juanez Buonocore lounged in a grandiose, oversized chair. Behind him loomed an enormous portrait of himself, gazing down with an air of silent approval.

Unlike his usual rigid uniform, today he wore flowing, informal robes. His posture was uncharacteristically relaxed, one leg draped over the armrest as he idly twirled a small spoon in anticipation of his espresso. His expression was one of amusement, eyes lazily sweeping over the two men before him. Between them sat a polished coffee table, its surface adorned with an ornate silver tray. As Buonocore gestured with a casual flick of his wrist, his meaning remained ambiguous: was he inviting them to sit or instructing them to place their offerings upon the table? It hardly mattered. The two men took their seats and placed the food and espresso on the table.

Buonocore, bending forward with a slight grin on his face took a slow sip of his espresso before finally breaking the silence.

"Estebano, Pedro," he greeted, "I have summoned you here because you are making quite the name for yourselves. Sí, good things reach my ears, and now, it is time for us to speak of your futures within the Brotherhood."

He leaned forward slightly, placing his cup back onto its saucer with a soft clink. His gaze flicked to Estebano first.

"You, muchacho, seem rather confident in the cockpit. A natural talent, no? But I believe there is more to you than just skill behind the controls. You are a big hombre, sí, but you do not strike me as all muscle and no brains. Correcto?"

He let the words hang for a moment before shifting his attention to Pedro.

"And you, I hear you have a talent for trade, for numbers and negotiation. A sharp mind, indeed. Such skills are invaluable within our Brotherhood." A smirk played on his lips as he leaned back once more, his fingers idly drumming against the armrest. "Tell me, caballeros, where do you see yourselves in the coming years? What ambitions drive you?" He paused before adding with a sly grin, "And... would either of you care for a taco?"

The air between them grew thick with anticipation, the weight of opportunity resting upon the shoulders of the two men seated before the Elder. The day was young, but its course had already begun to shift.

---

Baila Morena | Toilet Trouble | Elder Presidente[TBH] | The Titan Combat Manual | Confession
♰ Join the Corsair Brotherhood ♰