Low Tide

For the last hour a glass of whiskey with half melted ice had stood neglected, forgotten beneath a haze of smoke and hidden under a brim of a hat that all but concealed the wearer’s face.

It was deliberate, like everything else Joseph did.

In his wanderings he’d found a local hotspot for criminals, drug dealers and reprobates - a safe haven in which to drink and be merry. Some more than others. Just like the big guy near the jukebox; he’d drank too much and as a result spent most of his time hassling the young waitress on duty.

For the most part it was innocent enough, but there were a few insinuations and tones that didn’t sit very well with Joseph. If there was one thing he hated more than rival gangs it was a man disrespecting a woman.

( Friendly Warning )

Smoke hung in the air like an ever present dark cloud, curling around the tapered tips of the fingers that clutched the cigarette that slowly burned away as the man holding it turned his attention to the scattered papers spread across the table in front of him.

There were also photographs of meetings, entourages and venues followed by information on habits and everything that Joseph thought was important was noted on a nearby pad.

He took a lingering drag from the cigarette and then stubbed out what was left of it, sinking back into the chair as he regarded a photograph closely. Joseph hadn't slept since his arrival in Florida and he'd been living off whiskey, cigarettes and adrenaline alone.

He smoothed a hand through his hair and gripped the back of his neck, tossing the photograph onto the table as he let his attention drift to the hotel room for the first time since he'd set foot into it.

( Headed Out )

Since he'd been escorted into the white room Joseph had taken his time in learning both mannerisms and expressions of his would be captors coming to the conclusion that the bigger man was in the middle of a nasty divorce or had recently divorced judging by the white band around his left ring finger and the smaller one was having some serious comb over issues.

He tapped his fingers against the table and exhaled a breath, reclining back into the uncomfortable metal seat before shifting so the edge of his belt knocked into it causing a resounding clunk in the quiet room. His eyes cut to the bigger man then found their way to the smaller man again, wondering just when their bosses would be in here firing question after question at him.

Joseph wet his lower lip and tipped his head, adjusting the way a leather cuff sat around his left wrist. "You any idea how long this is going to be? I have sightseeing to do." He smirked at the responding answers and scowling expressions, shrugging his shoulders a moment later. "Had a feeling you might say that."

The index finger of his right hand scratched at a peeling piece of skin on the thumb of that hand before the same hand slipped into a pocket to pull a pack of cigarettes free. If he was going to be stuck in this room then he was sure as hell going to have a smoke, he'd already gone hours without. Joseph pulled a cigarette free and tossed the pack on the table before he slid the filter end in-between his lips, tipping his head into the flame of his lighter.

( We're Watching You )

[NPC Agent Kottler & other NPCs were written by Willow]

The flight had been long and had tried Joseph's somewhat shortened patience given the lack of nicotine in his veins forced upon him by the rest of society. God, he hated public opinion. He breathed out sharply through a set of gritted teeth as the child behind him kicked his seat for what felt like the hundredth time in the last hour alone. All it took was one more kick for Joseph to turn sharply, levelling the overweight brat of a child with a dark glare. "Try it again," he muttered, voice low pitched and intimidating. "I dare you." The child briefly glanced at his feet before regarding Joseph warily until it would seem even this child had some sort of survival instinct as instead of lifting up his leg he dropped back into his seat and contented himself with listening to some godawful music instead.

Joseph wasn't entirely sure what was worse.

The American-Italian instead chose not to ponder on this and simply resign himself to his fate given that the plane would be landing soon and then he'd be rid of that... thing sat behind him. It wasn't that Joseph hated kids - far from it - he just hated spoilt ones that felt that the world owed them something.

He raked his decorated fingers through his hair and smoothed the flat expanse of his palm over the back of his neck, willing the tension away. Nerves couldn't begin to explain what Joseph was feeling. The pressure to succeed was immense and he knew he couldn't let Don Moretti down; if he did, he might as well put both feet into a bucket, fill it with wet cement himself and jump right into the nearest body of water, save the Don the trouble of getting the goons to do it for him.

( Same Old Routine )