#⌇ask ( 𝘿𝙞𝙚𝙜𝙤 )

[distopea]

🍐  :    how intelligent is my muse overall?  are they smarter than the average person,  or less than?  are they primarily self-taught,  or did they acquire most of their knowledge in school?  are they more street smart or book smart?  (Diego)

@royaletiquette

𝐅𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒

Ah, my poor little meow meow ! 

Well, I wouldn't say that Diego is smarter than the average person. He's basically very average himself, but thriving through a lot of privileges and relying on very annoying luck (especially for his enemies). 

First, he was born wealthy. Diego was always "someone", he had never known proper poverty before, he was privileged, the only child of his parents... A spoiled little fucker. So, even if he wasn't the smartest boy, he had a lot of opportunities to be escorted in life. Private teachers, experts in different sports, a lot of business contacts, wealthy "friends"... The Jet Set is a very dangerous world, because when you're born there, you somehow always belong there, even if people can despise you. Being good in school is not essential ; the only thing that matters is money. 

So Diego would be "business" smart, and cocky. Since he has always believed he was exceptional, he acts with no fear. He's not the best, he sometimes gets scammed, but he's so passionate about himself and his own abilities that he always manages to get what he wants. He's insufferable, arrogant, and you want to slap him. And he knows that. He uses it. He knows you'll pay to get rid of him. 

[distopea]

It wasn’t clear if Diego was capable or not of impressing the King, but nonetheless, he had his attention. He was bulletproof to the various curious looks eyeing in their direction, quite aware that among the crowd, there were religious clients of his clubs. But etiquette was etiquette, and they wouldn’t dare to approach him at that kind of party. So for Diego, the presence of Hibiya was not only a little blessing, but a massive raised middle finger to their hypocrisy. 

“Oh, but you may ask questions. Are we supposed to pretend we know everything about each other’s business, just because it wouldn’t be polite to satiate our thirst?” Diego rolled his eyes and grabbed the nearest glass of champagne, when he noticed someone with a tray passing by them. “I was born in a country where thirst was always rewarded with good wine. I want to live up to my reputation. What do we say to someone of your status? Ah yes, I’m your devoted servant. If you want to ask, you know my door is more than open for a King.” 

He shamelessly smirked, his tone slightly flirtatious on purpose, before he tasted the champagne, disappointed again by the lack of savory and audacity. This party was bland, and he was still nourishing that childish hope to steal Hibiya’s attention long enough to offer a new kind of fun. “A team? I would call them a staff.” He thought about that weird accountant who was always judging him, and that infernal red-headed baby boy with his Italian accent. They were still acting as if they weren’t under his boots.

“I said I live up to my reputation. Those establishments are crowded every day, so you can definitely believe I have the required staff for any sort of business.” He tilted his head aside. “Discrete ones, too, if you wish to know.” He smirked again, stepping slightly closer to properly invade the King’s space.

“And a list of names which are kept off the records, in case someone important would want to have some… real fun.” 

Diego seemed like the kind of man who would fall for the easy trap of talking just to fill the air: Hibiya not responding, as if left with nothing to say, and Diego may continue by spilling more and more information that would come to mind so long as it could eventually satisfy his audience. The question that might leave Hibiya with however, was how much of it was the truth, and how much was to get the rise the other was looking for? It was a mistake on Hibiya's side that he fell for wanting to see that, which continued to, unfortunately, keep reeling him in.

On top of all this, the King wasn't immune to Diego's colorful description of himself and his work. Even if the use of my lord caused a barely contained snort. Not only was the title unnecessary, it was wrong.

"Wow," slow and drawn out, not caring to hide how genuinely impressed he was by the growing list of real estate. "Yes, I suppose it can't be helped that some gambling can't be helped. And who would I be to question someone with a resume like yours with such extensive investments?" Any possible chance of turning the conversation back on himself was ignored, getting the smallest hint that whatever it was behind Diego's claim to fame, it couldn't have been by himself. An inherence would have meant Hibiya at least having heard of his parents, no?

"I apologize for insulting you so." Chuckling at his own understatement. "Though you've certainly piqued my interest. How many was that ten- no, fifteen locations under your thumb? You must have quite the team behind you." Go on, Diego, keep talking. Hibiya even so far as to shift his weight to one side, his free hand finding its way into his pocket, visibly getting comfortable where they stood.

[distopea]

Diego Lecomte, the Flamboyant. 

A French man who has dreamt of success and fame since he was little. A pretty face, but not good enough to seduce Hollywood with his acting skills and even less his arrogance, unless it was for porn movies. He survived through small ad contracts, bartending and croupier work in casinos. 

What saved him was his audacity, his shameless devotion to being the greatest pretender, and his ambition to become someone. The perfect fraud the Cleaners needed to catch the light and get attention right where they wanted. He's the visage for the Nebula, the shining star who "owns" many businesses across the country; bars, clubs, casinos...

[distopea]

"Who ordered a bottle of Mumm?" He looked at the Champagne with a visible disdain. "We only drink Dom Perignon at this table."