Cian (thebettingsort) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-09-28 13:02:00 |
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Entry tags: | !group thread, cian wilde, drake liu, ofelia zhou, rena diangelo, vereessa lan |
Who: Cian & OPEN (Drake, Fee, Lan, Rena)
What: A day in the life~
Where: Around town
When: Throughout the day
Rating: PG-13 for language
Status: Complete!
[Tenements District: 10:00am] He'd slept in his office again, which he supposed was a testament to the fact that he was still painfully shortstaffed, By the time he'd finished sorting through the various papers he'd collected over the course of the week -- rumors, stolen documents, reports form the various moles he'd placed among his own people, damn the need for them -- the flight home had just seemed like too much work. One of these days, he thought, he was going to get a couch to shove against the back wall. So, all right, maybe he'd fallen asleep with his head on his desk, and maybe his neck was killing him. Maybe. You could still get decent coffee in the Tenements, though. There was a little shop not far from his office location, shabby and tiny but clean, and while it wasn't the fancy Ordalian roast they served in the nicer parts of town, it woke you up well enough. He stood outside the shop, sipping at the scalding contents and rubbing at the back of his neck absently. It was starting to get cool enough that he thought he might consider swinging by his place for a jacket. There were some dark clouds in the distance to the west; maybe it would rain later in the day. [Bazaar District: 12:30pm] Beau was as good as his word, and his monthly payments had been handed over to Cian's messengers -- along with the requested boxes of cookies -- every month without complaint. He was the best kind of customer -- unobtrusive, obedient, and unlikely to require... additional attention. He'd had the first box of cookies sent to his office, though. Just to check, before he ferried them over to the Butcher Street orphanage. Best damn cookies he'd ever tasted. He thought about them as he sat on a Bazaar district bench, waiting for his bike to be serviced by the mechanic whose shop opened into one of the nearby side streets. The bike was making some worrisome noises upon take-off, and he'd always lived by the philosophy that he was better safe than dead. He didn't relish the thought of another crash, even if it meant killing an hour or two out here. Bit early for lunch, and he hadn't bothered making plans with any of the ladies he was seeing but... Oh, hell, the bakery wasn't that far away. Might as well go and get a cookie under the guise of... checking in. Never a bad thing to keep a debtor on his toes. That decided, Cian rose from the bench and headed down the street. [Docks: 3:00pm] He'd had a chat with Sevrin a few days back, and the new warehouse seemed to be working out just fine. Still, he couldn't exactly afford hands-off management right now, so he'd made a surprise stop there half an hour ago. To Sevrin's credit, he only nearly shat himself -- and everything looked to be as reported. Fear won over kindness every time: a business lesson from the old bastard -- may he burn in hell -- that still held true to this day. A stroll along the piers showed that most of the damage seemed to have been patched, at the very least. Those clouds had come in after all, bringing with them a light drizzle. He was glad he'd grabbed his jacket earlier after all; he didn't mind cold, but wet was a fucking annoyance. He kept his ears open, but heard nothing out of the ordinary from the dockhands other than a cursing of the weather as they worked. No word about Loch and whatever the hell she was up to out here -- not that he thought there would be. Well, he'd stay out of her way as long as she stayed out of his. Shrugging his shoulders, he turned from the steely gray of the sea to make his way to the crystal. [Theatre District: 8:00pm] He had only run into one or two people he knew at the guildhall, which was fortunate. He'd brought the weekly documents -- to be delivered to the guildmaster -- himself, since he was on his way through anyway. Nothing much in the way of sensational news (well, there was that bewildering bullshit about tiny, but considering who was sponsoring her into high society, he thought the guildmaster knew all about it, and then some) but the patrol schedules and periodic gossip had seemed to appease the duke. He'd left Cian alone for the most part, anyway. Though maybe steering clear of the countess had more to do with it. Regardless. Silence, in this case, was good news. The smell of food distracted him from his thoughts temporarily. He stopped, considering entering the tavern for an early dinner. [Red Light District: 11:30pm] The legal gambling houses stood among the brothels, with certain establishments offering a bit of both. Saturday nights were always busy, and Cian liked to make an occasional appearance at the ones he owned -- and sometimes the ones he didn't -- to keep the edge sharp, remind his patrons he was around, and maintain the illusion of the legitimate businessman which he took care to cultivate. Couldn't do business from a cell. He'd won plenty, lost a bit, and drank a few sips of beer when he emerged from one such establishment into the darkness. The drizzle had passed, but the weather definitely hinted at fall. It'd be winter before too long, and as the weather worsened, business would boom. People really liked to be distracted when the days got short and dismal. As he stood there, zipping his jacket against the wind, he was smiling faintly. Nothing like the thought of gil to cheer him up. |