Business... (OPEN)

Demetrios and half a dozen members of his 'family' sat in the back room of a dusty old bar; one of the disadvantages of being in the slums. However, as this place was mafia grounds, the back room was slightly more furnished, and the alcohol which was in a number of glasses was pure grade, even if the bottles had been re-used.

Cigars, dim lights, weapons on the table - the classic set up.

"... and we've had a proposal from a secondary source saying that they can set us up with a fresh supply, come April. The stock is clean, and one of mine is currently scouting them out, just in case, as obviously this has to be below the radar..." One of the men spoke, and while the eyes of others wandered, Demetrios took in every detail. Focus was one of his greater advantages.

Except, that just at that moment, there was a knock on the door.

Walking into the bar, Laura looked around. It was pretty empty and now that she was legal she wanted a drink away from home. The bartender looked at her and gave her what she asked for. She looked at him as he scurried out from behind the bar and went to a door at the back. Watching him, he knocked on the door. The door opened and he mumbled something to someone else. She noticed there was smoke coming from the room, everyone must be in there, she thought.

The first person out of the room was a mouse of a man, barely past boyhood. Chances were he was a scribe, or just an extra set of ears.

Or he could have been a hitman; it was impossible to tell.

The meeting within the room broke up immediately, and in twos and threes, those inside made their way out, drinking, laughing, or acting more serious as was their want.

Third last out was Demetrios, and his eyes locked on the girl immediately; after all, how often was it an outsider walked into one of his places when a meeting was being held. It was either coincidence, or they had a spy.

Demetrios intended to find out.

Making his way towards her, rather than doing what some might have and pretending, he walked with all the authority a veritable king could; there was a presence in his step which, to most, was downright chilling. And that was before they heard the rumors.

Standing at arms length away, his yellow eyes burned into her profile, and he examined her head to toe, considering.

Laura looked at him, he was a big man and she knew she shouldn't say anything stupid to him. She gulped, feeling uncomfortable as he examined her. "Did I interrupt something? If I did I'm truly sorry."

"Did you?" A look, shot to the first man to exit. The man dialed two separate numbers, and affirmed a negative for both.

"It would seem you didn't, unless you're more intelligent than the last two." A nod to the barman, and a bottle and two glasses were produced. Fine scotch - it was clear that Demetrios wasn't hiding who he was, or at least, the influence he held. Both glasses were filled expertly, and one was pushed towards her.

She looked to her glass and picked it up slowly. "Thank you." She said. She was quite nervous and didn't know how to act around him. He did in fact scare her but she wasn't going to let that show. She looked confused, 'The last two? I can assure you, I'm only here to have a drink." She smiled softly and took a sip of her scotch.

Demetrios smiled in return, the scarring under his left eye tightening slightly, and the whole aesthetic of him made it appear slightly wolfish; definitely not purely friendly.

"And what could be wrong with a drink? Nothing, I'm sure." Taking a sip of his own scotch, he murmured "However, if anything that you didn't hear here is heard elsewhere, then problems might arise." And so evident was the threat that he didn't need to ask whether or not she understood. Whether she had heard anything or not, even mentioning the assembly elsewhere might not be wise.

His manner more 'friendly', now, he took another sip. "As it is, I'm sure you won't protest an escort home, given the nature of these streets and the time of day."

She downed her scotch and made a sour face then fixed her composure. "I actually must protest. I don't live too far and I know this area really well." She smiled. "But thank you. And I'm sure you have a lot to do, so I won't hold you up any longer."

Demetrios did not smile.

"I have plenty to do; however, I'm sure some of these fine gentlemen would be happy to take you in my stead."

Leaning somewhat closer, he explained as much as he was going to. In hushed tones, he said "It would not do, to have you coming to harm after being in this place, incidental or otherwise."

Tone firmer, eyes ablaze, he said "And so I really must insist, although you may leave at your own discretion, and drinks are on the house until then."

Straightening his collar slightly, it appeared he considered the discussion closed.

She didn't say anything and nodded. She understood what he meant. Laura wanted to ask what his job was, she was curious. But by the looks of him she did not ask, afraid of what he might say or do. "Thank you. I'll have one more then I will be off." She said before turning around, asking the bartender for a beer. She wasn't planning on getting drunk.

Demetrios watched her for a moment, for his own part, curious. She was about as close to 'in the lion's den' as anyone would likely get unscathed. And from the looks of her, she knew it. What was running through her head?

A slight chuckle grinding through his throat, Demetrios sipped the scotch, wondering just how long it would be before she realized that every single person in the place - the mouse like man with the phone, the barkeeper, even the young waiter - apart from her, was metaphorically speaking, one of the lions. Or whether she would realize at all. She'd walked into a hotbed of mafia activity.

She gulped again and looked around. Why had she come to this place? She felt like she was being watched and uninvited. She sipped her beer, just trying to look normal. Like nothing was going on. She glanced at everyone, she felt uneasy about the atmosphere in the bar. No way was she going to ask questions about what was going on, or what she walked into. She could tell that these men would probably strike her if she looked at them in the wrong. So, she stared down at her beer.
She almost forgot that Demetrios was still standing there, she turned around. "Do you always stand and drink?" He was making her nervous as ever and she didn't want to seem rude or anything. "You can sit down if you could spare a minute."

Again with the wolfish smile; Demetrios was amused. Enough so, that he took up her offer. "Strangely enough, I have a fair few minutes to spare this evening."

Sitting next to her, he watched her. "Feeling uneasy?"

She looked at him, "Maybe just a little." she told him truthfully and looked back to her beer. She couldn't help but think he was a bad man and if you cross him he'd kill you on the spot. "May I ask a question?" She looked at him again eying his scar.

She was brave or naive, he'd say that for her character. Without missing a beat, he took a sip and nodded, as if he had all the control in the world. No surprize, nor anger if there was any, showed.

"How did you get that scar?" She asked softly. She looked at him like a little girl would look at her father if he was hurt. She kind of felt sorry for him, a scar like that meant he was often in dangerous situations. She wanted to learn more about him, just out of her own curiosity, nothing more.

"I was young, and foolish, and played with fire."

The answer was incredibly open ended, and while the scar did look like a burn, something in his tone suggested that the fire he spoke of was of a different kind.

"May I ask a question in turn, Signora?" The slight smile across his lips said that asking permission was simply to humor her initial game - he would demand and receive without permission, if it came down to it.

"Ouch, that's not fun." She said and nodded to his question. "Of course." She looked at the way he grinned, something told her that he would beat information out of anyone. She wouldn't want to get on this guys bad side. She shuddered slightly.

Eyes locking on hers, he said "Would you be so kind as to place your gun on the bar?" No fear, no anger, no question of his authority being undermined.

She blinked at him, How could he have known that? She sighed and slowly reached behind her and placed her gun on the counter. "How did you know that?" She asked him. shocked.

"I didn't. May I?" Without waiting for her permission, he took the magazine out of the pistol and opened the chamber. Removing the bullets from both, he placed the now empty gun on the table, and pocketed the bullets.

Whether he had known, or if, as he claimed, he was bluffing, it was impossible to tell. Either way, he was good at hiding his thoughts and emotions - if he had any of the latter - and at adapting. However, seeing as they were leaning towards the bar, there was a good chance the weapon had bulged slightly.

Ever the gentlemen, or perhaps, ever the con man, he was polite enough or motivated enough to explain. "House rules, Signora, I'm sure you understand. You will be reimbursed for the bullets by your escort."

She looked at her gun and nodded. She decided it was best that she took it out because if he found out she was lying, you knows what he would have done. She was also going to be reimbursed so everything was alright. She chugged down her beer and stood up, "Well, I am finished. I should be off." She said, reassembling her gun and putting it back in her belt.

Standing as she did, out of respect or caution, he said "A pleasure I trust you'll forget." The emphasis on the word trust was slight but intended. As if trust could be broken, and as if broken trust held unpleasant connotations quite aside from the norm.

Nodding to a pair of men who were somehow professionally casual, a pathway cleared to the door, and they prepared to follow her home safely.

She raised an eyebrow, "If you say so...sir.." She saluted and walked around him towards the door. She turned around, "Thank you for the drink and I hope I won't be seeing you anytime soon." She turned back towards the men that would escort her. She shuddered, she didn't feel entirely safe with these guys. "Really, do I need escorts? This is a bit ridiculous don't you think?"

Demetrios didn't batt an eyelid at her salute, nor the almost-insult, nor the implication the guard was absurd.

"Perhaps. But it is a necessary farce, and seeing as you won't have bullets until you're at your doorstep, more so. Of course, you might have more ammunition, but if you attempted to load your firearm, I do believe these gentlemen would be rather insistent that you change your mind. They will escort you."