The Gentleman

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Sebastien Merrow turns and walks towards the window in Vera Noble's living room as soon as the door to the apartment closes behind her

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Sebastien Merrow turns and walks towards the window in Vera Noble's living room as soon as the door to the apartment closes behind her. He wants to have a clear visual of her as she waits outside the building for Ulysses's contact, Leonardo Ventura, to show up.

Leonardo had been Ulysses's long-term partner. Under a sleuth of identities and backgrounds, Leonardo had amassed a powerful reputation among the art elite. By becoming one of the most sought after Merchant D'Art in the world, Leonardo had built himself the perfect cover for his and Ulysses's art forgery empire.

Sebastien had been in awe of the tales Ulysses had told about the two of them. Tales of grand heists and priceless pieces, beyond anything Sebastien could have imagined. After each tale, Ulysses would ask Sebastien to approach it as a case. They would discuss each detail, each move, trying to find a flaw, a mistake, that the prosecution could use. They talked for hours about hypothetical scenarios and butterfly moments that could splinter the tale into hundreds of different paths.

Sebastien spots Vera exiting the building and leans forward. She stands on the sidewalk and waits, arms crossed. She looks vulnerable, standing alone in the deserted street, but Sebastien knows she is anything but. Vera is strong, fierce. Sebastien had always felt safe around her, and afraid for anyone that crossed her, even as kids.

Sebastien pulls a small white pawn out of his pocket and rolls it between his fingers. For all his tales, the one thing Ulysses never talked about was how he'd ended up in that hellish prison. Sebastien had pressed and pressed over endless games of chess, but Ulysses had met each inquiry with a ruthless attack that cost Sebastien the game in a handful of moves. A clear and strong sign for Sebastien to drop it. Now he'd never know.

Sebastien examines the pawn. It was part of Ulysses's treasured wooden set, which had most likely burned up along with much of the prison. Its golden pale tone is bleached stark white by the harsh sunlight. The green felt base looks faded and thin, but the pawn itself is spotless, bloodless.

"Take this," Ulysses had said, in a pained voice, the burning ceiling beam pinning him down still firmly in place despite Sebastien's best efforts. The flames had spread across it faster than either Sebastien or Ulysses had expected.

Sebastien had looked down at what Ulysses held in his hand, ignoring the searing pain on his shoulder. He had discovered quickly afterwards that he'd had suffered serious burns on not just his shoulder, but part of his back and arm, from trying to use his body to dislodge the burning beam.

"Take it!" Ulysses demanded. Sebastien had plucked the small white pawn from his palm, and even before Sebastien had raised his eyes to Ulysses, he knew exactly what he'd see in his friend's. Acceptance. Both of them knew Ulysses would not make it. Ulysses had acknowledged it first.

"No..." Sebastien had shaken his head, clutched Ulysses's hand. Begged him not to go. Not like this. Ulysses had begged him to go. To survive.

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