[rostock] baby's in black. [tag; dieter]

Oh, what a lovely day!

Summer had made it to Germany. Finally. This was Sofia's last day here and all the time she'd been here, it had been decidedly dreary. A cloudless blue sky stretched out far above her, the sunny weather reflecting in her mood. Sofia strolled down the cobbled streets, her big brown eyes marvelling at the unusually coloured houses and shops. To her, they seemed disproportionate. With pointed roofs and facias the colour of pastel, it all seemed a bit amusing to her.

It was very quaint here. Sofia wasn't really one for the seaside. Despite being raised in the rolling Umbrian hills of Tuscany, she was a city girl through and through. Happily meandering down by the river front, the scent of sea wafted across her, gently kicking up the ends of her long and glossy chestnut curls. She'd never visited here before but she was a stellar map reader.

She'd gone from Dresden to Munich, Cologne to Hamburg and Berlin to her final destination: Rostock. As her long legs strode out, a collection of bags from various expensive shops swayed in the breeze generated. The fashion scene in Germany was different to what she was used to back home. Thankfully, this country was a lot more into the darker shades. Come summer, Italy exploded into pastel shades of powder blue and mint green. The last time she wore pink was when she was six years old.

Her heels clacked as she walked, an expensive rose scent catching on the wind. Usually, Sofia very rarely wore trousers but today was an exception. Dressed in all black with her trademark scarlet pout, trousers were easier. Originally, she'd picked out a figure hugging dress with a pencil skirt before she'd reconsidered. It would work to charm a man but there was no way in Hell she'd be able to battle shoppers in it. She'd already tried to.

An expensive handbag was slung over her shoulder, the contents a rather innocuous leather bound folder. A business deal. The ink wasn't even dry yet. The afternoon's meeting was with Hans Reinhart. A tall, balding man with large, unnervingly bright blue eyes. They'd met, they'd chatted, she'd let him slide his hand up her thigh. Why were men so easily lead?

Sofia had found out that Herr Reinhart had been doing a little spot of business with the Meer clan. It was all very cloak and dagger and frustratingly, the German had held most of the cards. Although, he had been talked into switching allegiances in the meeting. It was simple; Scarlet Hargreaves had offered him a better deal. Oh how she wished she could stick around for the news to reach the Meer stronghold.

Honestly? Mr. Reinhart's services weren't a deal breaker. Sofia hadn't seen head nor tail of Dieter in well over a year. She was slipping. This was just a friendly reminder that she could still annoy him.

That put a little spring in her step. It was highly possible that he wouldn't be the one to find out. She was sure he had plenty of minions to do his bidding. Still feeling rather pleased, she crossed a courtyard and dropped into a cute little café that looked out towards the water. Sofia sat on a pretty little white wrought iron chair, dropping her bags at her feet and crossing her long legs at the ankles with her face turned up towards the sun.

A handsome young waiter appeared but she simply ordered a coffee. Her feet were killing her from all the running. Her long fingers picked up a discarded newspaper and she began to read. Her German, though good, wasn't mindblowing. Sofia picked up a few words from a headline. It seemed that the general gist of the article was a Muggle politician had been caught with his lover by his wife. "Rookie mistake," she cooed as she tutted, leaning back in her seat as she licked her forefinger to turn the page a little easier.

Out of the corner of her eye, a shock of blonde hair caught her attention. Sofia was in Germany. Weren't most of the population supposed to be blonde haired and blue eyed? Why was she paying attention? Because she was pretty sure she'd pulled hard on that head of hair. Sofia watched, fairly certain he was going to just stroll past but just to be sure, she slunk down in her seat and lifted her newspaper to block her face from view. With any luck, he'd just carry on by.

Sofia - or Scarlet as Dieter would always think of her - should have been dead. He wasn't sure why he'd thought that leaving her alive was a good idea. Perhaps it was because it was a rare moment to find another person who thought and experienced things as he did... or perhaps she'd been too good in the sack and he hadn't wanted to remove that talent from the world. Either way, in this moment, he was regretting not putting an end to her back in that warehouse in Berlin all those years ago.

He shifted uncomfortably under Isaak's gaze for a moment. As if it wasn't bad enough that he'd royally fucked up, it had to be his least favourite cousin standing across from him, tutting as he fixed Dieter with a penetrating stare for a moment. Isaak was another person that Dieter would dearly love to kill, and he was sure the feeling was mutual. In fact, Isaak was right this minute explaining how if it were up to him, Dieter would already be six feet under. He wouldn't have survived the Ben scandal. Thankfully, it wasn't up to Isaak, and who knew why his mother, the Meer Matriarch and criminal mastermind, Erika Meer, wanted to keep Dieter alive. Sometimes Dieter thought it was just so that she could watch him squirm.

However it was getting harder to ignore the black marks that Dieter was leaving against the Meer name. The abandoned wedding and gay love affair had been neatly swept under the carpet. But now this... woman... a witch who rightfully should have been dealt with years ago... was poaching informants on their territory. The Meers had one way of dealing with that sort of behaviour and it wasn't to ask the person nicely to desist. Except that was exactly what Dieter was about to do... because as much as his family-duty-bound self wanted her out of the picture, a rather selfish part of himself liked having her around.

Around.. but not in Meer territory. Merlin, she was an idiot. Did she not realise that the Meers knew everything that happened on their turf? They had eyes everywhere. And Dieter probably wasn't the only one trying to deal with the problem.

He left Isaak with promises to 'do better', and strode across town, wondering how exactly he was going to clip this in the bud and let Scarlet live. How he'd manage to explain to his family that he, once again, was not doing as he was told. He supposed, if everything began to circle towards hell, he could always beg Zi to take him in full-time. He probably wouldn't be able to leave Zi's house again.. but...

The meeting with Isaak had happened as Scarlet met with Herr Reinhart. He made his way to the place of their meeting swiftly, arriving just as Scarlet was leaving and then carefully tailing her. He was really hoping that she went somewhere private - a hotel room, a quiet restaurant... somewhere away from prying (Meer) eyes where he could come to some kind of a deal with her. But instead she brazenly sat out in the open in a nearby cafe. Stupid, stupid. If she thought that the Meers would shy from doing things in the open, she was wrong. They had this part of town wrapped up in their fist.

He rolled his eyes as she flicked up her newspaper in front of her face and with an overly dramatic sigh he slid gracefully into the seat opposite her. He waited for her to lower her paper and flashed her a forced smile, just as the waiter brought over her coffee.

"I wouldn't drink that if I were you," he said, keeping his voice soft and even. "Although I'm sure that you know how to check for poison. Just saving you the time. Talking of time, we have very little." He nodded towards Sofia's handbag, indicating that he had a fairly good idea of what lay within, "I expect your friend is already dead. Sorry about that, I hope you got what you needed from him already." A slow smirk spread across his lips. As much as he was currently playing the black sheep of the family, he still had a great deal of pride for the swift and no-nonsense approach of the Meers.

Honestly? She missed him. In an odd, roundabout way, she thought they were sort of friends. Their meetings were few and far between, often going six months without crossing paths. It was a shame but the space came in handy. Whenever they did happen to see one another, they usually ended up naked. Their wayward trysts were brief but satisfying.

Offering a bright smile, she folded her newspaper and sat it down. Her slim fingers wound themselves around her coffee cup, bringing it to her plump scarlet lips before stopping. "Oh for fuck's sake," she groaned with a roll of her eyes as she set the cup down sharply, arching an eyebrow at him. "What is it with you?" She asked swiftly, frowning. "Do you have to spike everything I enjoy in life, hm?" She pressed Dieter, scowling at him before dropping back in her seat, folding her arms across her chest and huffing childishly.

"We?" The Italian asked, her chocolate brown eyes wide as she blinked at the man. "Why? You're not going to take me to an abandoned warehouse and tie me to a chair again, are you?" She sighed wistfully, remembering the game of cat and mouse the last time they were alone in this country of his.

Swiftly, Sofia pushed her untouched coffee aside. She leaned across the table and towards him, her chin resting on an upturned palm with her elbow on the table as she watched him carefully. Her eyes flicked from side to side quickly, roving over his handsome face as though trying to commit it to memory. He looked…older, somewhat. Paler. Tired. He was still impeccably dressed, everything from his neatly cropped hair to his perfectly manicured nails.

"Hm," she replied, her eyes narrowing to rest on a borderline glare before she shrugged nonchalantly. "Don't be sorry," she said breezily, waving a hand through the air nonchalantly. "He really should have known better than to go rogue, as it were," she replied airily, leaning back and out of his personal space.

She frowned at him again darkly. "After all this time, straight to the point. German efficiency, right?" Sofia asked with a laugh, high and tinkling. In a way, she supposed they each lived up to their country's stereotypes. Him, blonde and capable and her, olive skinned and loose with her affections. She'd like to feel slighted but she knew this wasn't a social call. This was never a social call.

Bending, she hoisted and zipped her handbag, standing quickly to her full height and pushing her chair beneath the table politely. Reaching back into one of her shopping bags, she extracted a pair of dark, deeply stylish sunglasses and slipped them over her eyes, the lenses taking the edge off the bright sun. She liked summer. She was planning on going on holiday soon. Somewhere deeply expensive and hot. South of France? Cannes, maybe? Monaco? Further afield?

"Right. Come on," she said briskly, turning on her heel and striding off, trusting Dieter to follow. He wanted those papers back. It would be bad taste to do business in the open, after all. Sofia was sure that Dieter knew many a small, dark corner in this city. "Are you going to take me on a tour?" She asked brightly, turning around to face him as she began to walk backwards, neatly skirting the passerbys like she had some sort of sixth sense.

"It's very pretty," she replied, spinning around, long dark curls fanning out around her as the expensive scent of rose cause on the wind created. "Very.." Trailing off, she paused. "Quaint," she settled on. Though born in the rolling Umbrian hills, Sofia was very much used to fast paced, city life. This cute little fishing town was as foreign to her as a high street clothes shop.

She meandered on, through the thin cobbled streets, crossing tramlines and cyclists before she headed towards the harbour front. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply. She filled her lungs with the scent of sea air and diesel from the cargo ships that drifted in and out of the port. "So," she said briskly as she turned to face him, one hand on her hip. "What can I do for you, Mr. Meer?" She asked brightly, her attention diverted to a fancy hotel some feet away with a long name she couldn't pronounce and an arrival of a beautiful yacht. "I haven't sailed in years," she said with a pout.