The Beginning of Something Old

 As dusk fell on the city of Marseille, with icy waves lapping delicately on the docks below and streetlights beginning to paint the pavement beautiful shades of amber and gold, two identical and shadowy figures lie hidden as they await night’s veil. Neither do much more than flash a shiny and crooked grin as the lamp nearest to their corner flickers, then fades out. The gloom falls over them like a heavy blanket, allowing them to slink around the brick corner and out of view of the naked eye. They continue walking, each shape matching the other’s pace to perfection until they near a second alley and one seems to get himself a bit more excited. He speeds up, spinning on his heel with a wide smile and a glimmer in his golden eyes. “This joint’s a real dumb pick, y’know that Harley?” He remarks to the other, who meets him with his own scarlet gaze. “Hardly. You’re gonna-” The excited one trips and grabs hold of a lamppost to keep himself from plummeting to the sidewalk. “-You’re gonna fall if ‘ye keep walking that way.” Harley squints, and the other lets out a clear chime of a laugh without another word.
 Both figures are dressed rather formally for two street rats out past dark. They each have a white button-down shirt under a dark blazer and vest, with the saltier-looking young man having his tie pulled much further from his collar than his brother. You wouldn’t be able to tell that they were flat broke just by looking at them, that’s for sure- and that’s the point. Lea’s shirt is loosened significantly around his neck, however- revealing several serious-looking scars and bruises across his throat- though he doesn’t seem to mind them being visible. If he wasn’t so roughed-up and lanky, he might look his age. The other, Betsey, looks to be a bit of a prettyboy with no real visible injury at all, like he’s never worked or fought a day in his life, especially not with that smile.
Harley’s dark hair is only a bit longer than his brother’s, like he’s forgotten to trim it, so he ties it up behind him and smooths it out with a gloved hand as they both near an ivory-colored door that looks rather uninviting. It’s the side door to one of the city’s only casinos, hardly legal on its own- much less with an extension like this. They knock simultaneously, Bets leaning forward to mutter something into a slit with a mischievous grin before it opens. The door is opened by a large, round and burly man with his sleeves rolled up over his elbows, who looks these two shorter men up and down with a suspicious glare. He raises an eyebrow, shifting the cigar between his lips to bare his bleach-white teeth. “I’d think kids like you should’a been asleep by now,” he jeers, leaning on the threshold while the smell of smoke and freshly printed money wafts out of the establishment behind him. “Vendre des papiers? Makin’ rounds? Got somethin’ for me?”
 Harley purses his lips, stoic expression providing lovely contrast to the sunny little smile his brother’s holding before he speaks. “We’d like to come in, didja not hear me?” Bets answers, holding eye contact without an ounce of the anxiety you’d expect from someone like him. He folds his hands behind him, leaning forward and rocking back on his heels childishly. The man laughs in his face, pausing to take the bouquet from his mouth as the smoke trails from his maw like dragon’s breath. “Really now? Why’s that?” His vile smirk flattens with distrust. “You lookin’ for something?”
 The sunny twin glances at the other, who lifts his chin defiantly. “Just a bit of fun.” This short reply sends the man into hysterics, laughing so much he ends up having to wipe a tear from his eye. “They’ll tear ‘ye to pieces, son! What are you, twelve? Mon Dieu… kids these days.” All Harley does is scoff and loosely hold up a shimmering brass watch. “Nineteen.” The man stares for a moment, then stutters idiotically and checks his wrist- which is, sure enough, bare. Bets chokes back a chuckle while his brother tosses the timepiece carelessly back to its owner. “I feel like we can hold our own, monsieur,” He says, with an edge of sarcasm that doesn’t seem to fit his demeanor. “Let us in.”
 The man begins to feel a bit small, which is strange, considering he’s much taller than these two strangers in front of him. He looks between them, back and forth. Lea cocks his head to the side and looks him up and down, a holster on his belt catching his eye. Luckily, it’s empty, and he slips right past the stranger into the building behind him without a second thought. Betsey stares for a moment, then simply laughs and follows suit with a teasing wave to the fool at the door.
 The scent they’d been greeted with at the door only gets stronger as they venture down the dimly lit hall. It’s the sort of place with cheaply patterned carpet and aluminum door knobs masking their poverty with gold painted wealth, and the shady characters inside are no different. There’s a slender young ginger in a glimmering red dress, leaning on a man not unlike the one they’d met earlier- large and mean. Every corner houses a game, with the winner always seeming to be the one against the wall as no one can manage to sneak a glimpse of their hand. A few other younger fiends seem to be perusing the pockets of the patrons as well, though most of them seem to be in their mid-twenties and only here to escape what must be such a terribly large mansion or their daddy’s fancy office. A pretty and aged brunette sings on a soapbox, breathing soft verses carefully into her microphone to ensure that her silky voice reaches everyone on the premises. The atmosphere is truly mesmerizing, and it fills the twins with a rush of something that can’t quite be considered adrenaline, but can’t be too far off.
 Betsey’s chest swells with a feeling close to pride- a reaction he’s conditioned himself to have to get rid of the nerves that surely must come with the territory. His partner’s face doesn’t hint at anything of the sort, however, and all he does is scan the room with such a blank and entitled expression that you’d assume he owns the place. He rolls his eyes and practically jams his elbow into Lea’s side, trying to get him to smile. “Loosen up, we’re here to have a good time. Yeah? Yeah?”
 Harley forces back the grin that’d inevitably bring him, looking like he’s swallowed something far too sweet. “No, this is work. Work, Bets.” He scowls, tucking his chin further down to his chest and pushing his shoulders forward. Betsey shakes his head in response, pushing his hair back dramatically and straightening his own posture. “Y'know what they say- find a job you love…” He strides over to the bar and slips a bill he certainly hadn’t had on him upon entry over the counter. The employee- if you could even call them that- slides him a glass without a second thought. Not intending to even consume it, he picks it up and runs a finger along the rim out of sheer habit. Harley is far less cautious, and takes a drink before returning it to his brother and beginning to walk away. “We don’t have time for this.”
 “Oh, Lea, we’ve got all the time in the world! Don’t we? What’s stoppin’-” He’s cut off by the other leaning on him.
 “I don’t want a monologue.” His tone is rude, but Lea really means no harm, and he leans his head back onto the shoulder of Betsey’s jacket with a bored and somehow mildly playful glint in his eyes. He seems to take the hint and makes no effort to repress his own broad and asymmetrical smile, shoving him off and tucking a bit of hair back. “Let’s get going then, rat.” Harley opens his mouth to counter him, furrowing his brows with annoyance, but laughs for once as he gets his face pushed to the side instead. His voice is naturally gravelly with the amount of damage to his throat, making his own laugh much less clear than the other’s.
 Unfortunately, they’re both acutely aware of the heavy security staring them down. In an attempt to avoid true suspicion, they take a breath and slip into the mass of people. The high ceiling makes the place feel bigger than it really is, so it doesn’t seem so cramped, but Harley’s expression still morphs into a grimace whenever a stranger brushes against him. In an attempt to act as a sort of buffer, or perhaps a comfort, Bets rests a soft hand lightly on his tensed shoulder as they make their way across the room and hums along to the song the brunette’s chosen. The boys take their time, avoiding true conversation with the pseudo-casino’s patrons and resisting the overwhelming urge to join a game or two that they’d inevitably win. By cheating or skill, anyone who dared to take them on would likely be met with a nasty defeat. However, the twins take their skills elsewhere- another door that they finally manage to approach under the cover of several loud drunkards who’ve unsurprisingly lost their wallets.
 Waiting for their perfect opening, they repress matching grins before Harley stoops next to the knob and procures a delicate silver hook. He slips it into the lock, blankly staring at nothing as he tunes out the white noise of conversation around him. Betsey simply stands near him with a hand just beside the handle, feeling for any clicks from the lock’s inner workings and keeping watch for the brawny employees- who are currently distracted by a catfight conveniently breaking out between the ginger and another woman several yards away. Finally managing to crack it, the boys exchange an excited glance and slide through the doorway silently.