lonn (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} blacksheepbaby) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} lineof_fire_rpg, |
Lonn wasn't going to go. Had talked himself out of it. But when the offhanded thought that the Italians may be making one claim or another at the event fluttered through his head, he made the decision that he had to go. And after the festivities of Halloween, he was obligated to defend his territory and family. Right?
Right.
After digging through his closet for what seemed like hours, he found his black suit and powder blue shirt, nixing the matching tie as he just didn't feel like getting that spiffied up. Actually taming his hair, he left his apartment and made his way down to the Boston Harbor Hotel. Being who he was, he really didn't have to present an entrance ticket, but he did, and took a sweeping glance around the open ballroom. Blue eyes didn't immediately spot anyone that he was chomping at the bits to speak with, nor did they spot anyone that he was itching to pick a fight with. Yet.
So he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his slacks and made his way over to the bar. His upper lip curled for the briefest of moments when he realized there weren't any open seats that he wouldn't have to bump elbows with. Oh well. Might as well be personable. He was out and about, after all. "You mind?" he asked, pointing to the seat, a friendly smile plastered on his face. The stranger seemed safe enough.