Work Text:
Alone in his dressing room, Angel sat before his vanity.
He adjusted a few stray strands of hair on his wig with a pin.
He leaned in close to the mirror as he carefully lined his lips with a bright red. The same color he'd seen on so many women way back in life.
He leaned back, illuminated by the soft warm lights of the vanity, and admired his work. The spitting image of someone once so familiar stared back.
"There…"
"… Perfect!"
She stared at her reflection in the mirror, her had hovering over perfectly styled hair as she admired her brother's handiwork.
"Like an angel, Molly!"
Molly grinned, glancing over to Anthony. "You're the angel here. I don't know what I would've done without you here!"
Anthony gave her a knowing smile. Molly had always been a trainwreck when it came to styling her own hair. Thankfully, Anthony had quickly picked up hair styling to help her out for all the parties and outings she liked to attend.
He simply shrugged, "'S what I do."
Anthony took a closer look at her scalp and frowned, "Your roots are showing. Wanna dye 'em later?"
"After I get back… tomorrow, probably."
He took a seat at the edge of her bed, crossing his legs and resting his head on his hand. "So, you going dancing tonight?"
"Close. The factory's hosting another party tonight," she explained as she stood, adjusting the sweetheart neckline of her favorite party dress. "There's a band coming to play, and they asked me to sing."
Anthony nodded, proud, "As they should. With the looks and voice of an angel, I can't think of anyone more fitting than our very own Molly Ragno."
She gave a dramatic bow to an imaginary audience.
"Thank you. Thank you."
"Here."
He grabbed Molly's coat and purse as she adjusted her pearl necklace. An heirloom from their late mother. "You look just like her…"
Molly glanced down at the pearls, smiling sadly.
"'Se saprai ricordarmi, sarò sempre con te,' " she recited quietly.
"'If you can remember me, I will always be with you,'" Anthony answered in turn. "Yeah, I remember. Here," he handed her her coat. "You should get going."
"You sure you don't wanna come with?"
"You know I'd love to, but I got, uh… work… tomorrow."
Molly tilted her head at the phrasing, but her gentle smile remained the same.
"Okay... I'll try to be back early."
"Nah. Go have your fun. I'll deal with Jonathan if he starts throwing a tantrum again."
"You're the best… bye, Tony!"
"Break a leg!"
Molly hummed to herself, recalling the lyrics of what the band had planned for later in the night. She'd mistakenly got off the bus at the wrong stop, so she had resorted to going the rest of the way on foot. It wasn't terribly far, and besides, the fresh air helped calm any pre-show nerves.
She'd barely been a block away from the party's location when a harsh hand gripped her and she found her self pinned up against the brick wall of an alley with a stranger clutching the front of her coat and the barrel of a gun pressed into her stomach.
"What the-"
"You Molly Ragno?" he rasped, the smell of cigars reeked from his breath.
"What's it to you?!"
One of the other men behind him snickered. "Yeah, that's Henry's girl."
"What do you want from me?! Money? I… I can get you-"
She cut herself off as she saw him raise the gun to about five inches from her face.
"I don't give two flying fucks about your money," the man said with a snarl. "Your daddy crossed a line. Killed my boy. So we're gonna send him a message."
What?!
Molly frantically started to squirm, desperately trying to escape from his iron grip. She felt tears prick at her eyes. When that didn't work, the man and his goons laughed at her pathetic attempts, so she opened her mouth, and screamed.
"Help! Fuck- Somebody hel-!"
Angel sat alone in his dressing room. With the company of no one but his own reflection.
Outside, he could hear the muffled sounds of lost gamblers and rowdy drunks, accompanied by a jazzy piano trying to make a tip.
"'Se saprai ricordarmi, sarò sempre con te'," he said to no one but himself.
No one but his twin in the mirror.
"Break a leg, Molly," he whispered.