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Your eye twitches in the real world and your jaw clenches. You forcefully think of things that Stillwater could use AGAINST her instead of this lecherous filth. The image in your mind's eye shifts to a letter in Jerome's hands. It's a love letter to the Countess, simply one of many belonging to the countless suitors she has. You idly note that it's written in an elegant hand, which Jerome thinks is the mark of pretentiousness.
What's special about this, and some of the others that Jerome intercepted in the past, is that it belongs to a powerful man. A powerful <span class="mu-s">married</span> man, to be specific. It's leverage she can use against them...but leverage that Jerome could use against <span class="mu-s">her</span> as well, by threatening to destroy the connections that keep her powerful. A large-scale scandal involving all of men she has wrapped around her fingers would positively ruin her, and very well could end up with her in the streets.
Jerome doesn't use this information yet, of course. He knows that as long as Felippe is around, he would only stand to suffer should Felippe learn that he's behind one of his connections taking such a hard hit. No, he'd just have to save this information for later, insurance in case he ever needs to stop the bitch from doing something stupid that would affect his own bottom line. And maybe a little bit of blackmail for a fun time or two.
It seems like that's the extent of his knowledge on what he could use against her, as he didn't want to be caught from prying into things too much. Jerome seemed to think that as long as you had one good piece of dirt on someone, it wasn't worth digging for more - the risk started to vastly outweigh the benefit at that point as far as he was concerned. With that in mind, you shifted your thoughts to focus on Nocturne Kamei next.
You're in Jerome's shoes again as he's mixing himself a drink at his personal bar, the one located at his old safehouse. A tiny flicker of a thought, not one born from the current moment, informs you that he had to switch to a new safehouse after this just to sleep well at night. The 'current' Jerome knows nothing about this, of course, continues to craft a Whiskey Sour to enjoy the night with - his favorite drink.
With it made, he walks out from behind the bar and goes to sit in his favorite cushioned chair by the fireplace, propping his feet up and knocking back the drink with a contented sigh. A sultry feminine voice speaks up from behind the bar he was just at, entirely unexpected and causing him to choke on his drink the moment he hears it.
"It's poor form not to make a drink for your guest, Jerome." Nocturne chides him in a way that seems both teasing and <span class="mu-i">dangerous</span>.
"Who the f-" Jerome tries to say, before a spike of pain goes through both him and YOU as you review the memory. Thankfully for you, it's only the idea of that pain, nothing that you can truly feel - your brain tells you that it should hurt more than it actually does.
