Who: Byron and Oscar Darlington (and later, Logan Fox) What: The con of all cons! Where: Happy Endings, Chicago When: Forward dated to Sunday evening, November 20, 2011 Warnings: Violence, language, character "death." YOU'LL SEE.
Though they'd been here for an hour, maybe less, it had seemed like an age to Byron, like all 138 years of his life culminated in this one night. In a way, they did, which made Byron nervous, and understandably so. He was supposed to die tonight. All according to plan, but that had never been much of a comfort to him. Especially not tonight. Not when everything was on the line.
Two twins "drinking" but only one ogling, Byron leaned back in their semi-private booth, sliding his palms down his legs. It was an old gesture for him, one that was practically tradition. All actors had to prepare, didn't they? And this was the performance of his life. It had to be so good that it upstaged the show this club was famous for – it had to be better than good, for his brother's sake. If Byron didn't die tonight, Oscar would later. He'd agreed to this for no other reason – well, that and revenge, but the latter was much less pressing now.
Heaving a sigh as the current number ended, he pulled his pocket watch into view and a surge of panic went through him at the sight of the hour. In the midst of the show and all his mulling, he'd lost track of time. Again. Quickly, he grabbed the shot glass in front of him. "Late again," he murmured. "Story of my life."
He threw the liquid back and grimaced, kicking Oscar's foot under the table. Barely moving his lips, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said to his brother, the only person he'd ever trust enough to do this, "You've got five minutes. Please don't break my nose."