The last time Bruno Weiss set foot in a cathedral had been when he was a small boy with his immigrant family and cousin Emill. Yet here he was, decades later, secretly watching you from several pews behind as the choir sang hymns, heavenly light pouring in above from the stained glass windows.

Since bringing you into the Bandit’s Roost burlesque act, to his dismay (but not surprise), you refused to open up to him in any way, shape, or form. You kept your head down and performed shows alongside sleeping with men to save up enough money to break your sister out of Ellis Island’s infirmary.

He knew he had a black heart and that you had every reason to distrust him. Still, your hatred for him hardly deterred him from trying to connect with you beyond his role as your pimp. He wanted you to look at him, to cling to him, to need him. Bruno wished to know your innermost thoughts and desires, even though he knew he didn’t deserve you.

In this cathedral, he felt like a stranger in his own skin— this was the last place he’d ever be found. Little did you know he’d follow you to the ends of the earth, or give anything to keep you by his side.

When you pull your shawl over your pretty head and make your way into the confession box, he silently trails after you, attempting to remain as inconspicuous as possible. He hides in the shadows, pressing an ear to the confessional box in an attempt to eavesdrop on your private confessions with the priest.

It breaks his heart.

And when he finally see’s you leave mass, the two of you locking gazes in the cool of the winter night, he’s adamant on spending time with you tonight.

"Have you eaten, yet?"