Bento calmly rolled up a cigarette and watched as the woman he’d seen spilling Winged blood the other day appear from backstage. The various goons were in a bit of an uproar, but men who fought with intimidation often found themselves terrified by a man without fear. They wouldn’t dare to approach. The windcaller placed his freshly rolled cigarette between his lips and reached for the box of matches on the bar. He struck the match against the box and raised the flame to the end of his cigarette, igniting the loose tobacco and pulling in to form a nice coal. A cloud of smoke passed gently from his lips and hung in the air for a moment. As the swirling grey tendrils dispersed Bento’s eyes caught the red glare of a woman’s scorn; a sight he was not altogether unfamiliar with. She sat down next to him, letting the silence hang in the short distance between them. Bento took an easy drink, perfectly content to wait it out. If this bloody-sleeved girl was any judge of character then they both knew she would speak first.

[i]A theif?[/i] Now that was amusing. [color=92278f][b]“Lucy sent you a killer.”[/b][/color] Bento replied, staring out at the scene around him, emotionless as ever. He took a long drag of his cigarette before continuing, [b][color=92278f]“Poor bastard should count himself lucky. Any other day of the week and he’d have been as dead as he is stupid… Very.”[/color][/b] Pouring the rest of his drink down his throat, Bento signaled for another. [b][color=92278f]“You should invest in a lost and found. I don’t know how they do things in Serenity, but here in Russell City, you come between an Immortal, and the sunglasses he left at your bar… Well… I guess you’ve already seen what happens.”[/color][/b]

"And what is a killer, but a thief of lives?" Lucania mused in reply, finally submitting to eye contact with the man. Lucy's killer was... not quite cadaverous, but he exuded an air of apathy. He was a large man, sculpted roughly by the harness of the Dust he reflected back at the world. In another life he could have been a leader, in this it appeared he had all but given up. He was senior to her-- although not buy as many years as he'd believe. He was a dirty man, a mangy man, and he seemed impartial to drink.

"In Serenity..." She began, following the man's gaze outward, "In Serenity, most Immortals have evolved past the fashion faux pas of wearing sunglasses indoors..." Gently un-clasping her purse, she fished out her own cigarette and lighter, unhealthy as it may have been, she was already breathing in enough second hand smoke to suffocate a small child, "Although, I suppose you already knew that," She set the tobacco alight, "And certainly, if you knew that, you know my of family, our reputation, myself..." She stole a short puff of smoke in the pause, "You must also know, then, that this establishment abides by that norm we've set in Serenity." Another silver stream of smoke added to a room already polluted with gray.

"You needed those sunglasses in the same way a flower needs bright petals..." Breathing out a weak cloud, she ran a hand through her own hair, feeling the daisies laced throughout, "Attention." She stated unflinchingly, "You wanted my undivided attention. Now you've got it." Curiosity filled her voice, "So tell me; for what purpose did Lucy send me a killer?"

Bento received his second drink, sipping at it more slowly than the last. [b][color=92278f]“It must be nice living in a world where all things revolve around a single, fixed point.”[/color][/b] He replied, letting the insult hang in the air as he took a long drag of his cigarette. [color=92278f]“Let me tell you a story… It begins with a man, captured by the Forsaken. They torture this man in ways you can hardly imagine. The beasts in those dungeons are by far the most creative sadists in the known world, and are given free reign upon the flesh of their enemies…”[/color] The Immortal paused, allowing Lucania to linger on the thought.

Bento took a drag at his cigarette and a drink from his glass before continuing, telling the story as if it were a folk tale, rather than an autobiographical one. [color=92278f][b]“One of their favorite things to do was starve a prisoner for about a week or two, and then throw them in a cell with another starved prisoner. The first time it happens, a man tries to resist. He holds out as long as he can, continuing to starve himself. You don’t sleep. You watch your partner, vigilant at all times until one man finally breaks. The second time, you don’t wait. You know that nobody is coming for you. You know that this man will die. Dragging it on for another week will only make it harder…”[/b][/color]

[b][color=92278f]“Well, eventually they throw this man in the mines, opening up the dungeons for new victims… And for the next six years this man sleeps underground, works underground, and by all expectations will die underground. Except he convinces his masters that he is trustworthy; he bares before them a broken soul and they bring him outside. The winds pick up around him, his Immortal powers returning. He slaughters them all, and from the bloody scar that he has carved into the earth, the man retrieves a gun, a vest, and a pair of sunglasses…”[/color][/b] At this, Bento paused again, filling his lungs again with the sweet taste of death. She could connect the dots from there.

Bento tipped his  drink back and drained it before finally turning to look Lucania in the face. [color=92278f][b]“Russell City ain’t gonna play by your rules just cause you threw up a couple walls in it. So you want to ask why Lucy send you a killer? Because this sure as shit isn’t Serenity, kid, and when the Wings come busting through that door over there? Well... You’d better have a fucking pair of sunglasses…”[/b][/color]

A slave.

On some level, that made sense to Lucania. The man seemed to have that look unique to the Forsaken about him. The Castalia's interactions with those black flag waving brutes had been all but non-existent, how she came to understand it, the small amount of dark-hearted marauders that might have posed a threat to Castalia territory came to understand that starting a battle of 'brain versus brawn' would be fruitless endeavor. Still, Lucania had seen the caravan, and that dreadful, empty look that slaves had about them. 

In another lifetime, back when the Castalia family was just a group of razor blade, penny grabbing hoodlum in the territory that would become Serenity. She may not have shown, or even [i]felt[/i], that tinge of pathos she felt as he talked of his experiences with torture.

[i]Interesting.[/i]

Yes, interesting indeed, that all it took was 30 years in bunkers to completely erase all strides humanity had taken in the Old World to eradicate the institution of human enslavement. Less interesting, more tragic, that her stock, the Castalia's, were not exempt from such barbarism.

Lucania sighed, cigarette hovering near lips just slightly agape. 

[i]Take it all with a grain of salt.[/i]

"Hmmm..." Lucania shifted her weight under the man's intense glare, "Compelling." She didn't break his gaze, and with a calm drag, she calculated each word that followed, "Bravado, too." She blew out a plume of smoke, "You enter my establishment, with the recommendation of my dear sister, I might add, spill the blood of my cousin and openly taunt those who might retaliate," A smirk appeared on her face, a playful golden gleam entered her eyes, "And you appear completely unphased, by the way!" The smirk remained, while her eyes dimmed to a thoughtful, critical brown, "Based on that alone, I'd say you were after my heart, sir!"

"Of course, I can even understand why you might resent me. Perhaps you feel the need to highlight the differences between yourself and I? Remind me of my privileged with a story to pluck at the strings of the heart you're after for employ? I can understand that." Her eyes narrowed slightly, a thin stream of smoke was blown out of her mouth as she leaned in, "What I hope [i]you[/i] can understand, is that I prefer you to keep your personal affairs separate from business... And from this moment forward, we will be discussing business." 

As she extinguished the still burning cigarette butt, levity returned to her eyes, "It just so happens that I might be in the market for a killer." Her grin became coy, "Although, I do sincerely hope you realize that an important part of the position would be my protection from those who might... [i]otherwise persuade[/i] me to wear said sunglasses. I will not hide who I am, be it in Serenity or Russel, Mr...?"

Of course, she had somehow managed to turn it all back on herself. She even constructed a narrative where all his actions were in some way orchestrated with some grand plan in mind. If that was the case she must have thought very highly of him, despite having known him for but a few minutes. Perhaps she was falling for him like her sister had? If there was one thing Bento didn’t need, it was any more Castalia women crawling into his bed…

[color=92278f][b]“Cullen. The Windcaller.”[/b][/color] Bento replied, maintaining his lie. [color=92278f][b]“Do not misunderstand me, I do not hold your birth against you, nor do I desire pity. I share my story with you to show you that I have no interest in bravado. Your cousin has bravado; it is a hollow confidence, and it will get him nowhere. You wonder if I am willing to protect you? I’d walk into a den of thieves and murderers, and kill a man over a pair of sunglasses. I’d insult the bloodiest mafia enforcer in the Dust just to speak my mind. What do you think I’d do for the kind of life someone like you could give?”[/b][/color]

"I should hope you'd do whatever I may ask of you!" She said, laughing at her own joke for an instant. Her composure became more temperate as it became apparent that the Windcaller didn't share her enthusiasm, "I think you'll take the calculated risks." Lucania concluded. 

"Call me an optimist-- for perhaps I'm overestimating a stranger's abilities. But I don't think you knew he wouldn't fight back, or that I wouldn't take deadly offense-- I don't think you [i]knew[/i] you could display your strengths to me. I think you were comfortable wagering your own life for the risk of displaying that strength. I appreciate that quality..." She glared at the empty glass near Cullen, "Or, you could be drunk?" Shrugging, she continued, "Though, I doubt someone with zero inhibitions would be so critical of those displaying bravado..."

"So," She clasped her hands together, "A killer, a thief, a Windcaller, and a risk-taker! Seeking not the bravado and hubris that lies in public adoration, but content in his own silent satisfaction... You know, in another life, men like you were the greatest enforcers," 

[i]And, coincidentally, the greatest detectives...[/i]

"Let's say I were to seek your service in this very moment, Cullen. I want you to tell me-- what do you get out of the arrangement?"

Bento took a drag of his cigarette and exhaled to the side as Lucania told her joke. He allowed her the moment to laugh at her own joke. It was fortunate she did in fact; God knew the windcaller wouldn’t have. [b][color=92278f]“I assure you, I am not drunk, and I am indeed confident that you have not overestimated my abilities. And I am equally as confident that in time you will find that I am even more dangerous than you might have initially observed, Ms. Castalia.”[/color][/b] Taking a final drag of his cigarette, the Immortal put out the burning ember in the ashtray. [b][color=92278f]“As for my terms… I will protect you and your interests, and in exchange you will provide for my needs. Food, drink, shelter, and whatever other things I might need to fulfill my job. I will take any life you ask me to in exchange for an agreed upon price, dependent upon the difficulty of the assignment. In addition, I ask for one high grade rifle round for each extra life I take under your employ.”[/color][/b] Bento paused for a moment, contemplating all the things he could ask of the Dust’s most powerful criminal organization. Drugs, women, power…

[color=92278f][b]“Also, I want the idiot to admit the sunglasses were mine. I’m not a fucking thief…”[/b][/color]

Smoke hung still in the air between the two, Cullen let his terms known, Lucania, ignoring the unsure glare Carmela gave the man, let him say his piece. The clank of glass hitting the wood, the unsure steps of waitresses and alcoholics, and the swaggering beat the band played... they all fell behind the man's words, his demands. He was certainly sure of himself, and that quality is what piqued Lucania's interest in the man the most. She couldn't be sure it wasn't all bravado, but frankly, unlike the man, who probably only had the strength of his character to call his own-- she didn't care.

[b][i]'In addition, I ask for one high grade rifle round for each extra life I take under your employ'[/i][/b]

Lucania broke her stoic business face with a bit of mirth. [i]A negotiator![/i] "And what's to stop you from going on a rampage under my employ? What if my cousin bleeds out? Do you think his life would be worth one high grade round?" Lucania paused, letting the question sink in, "He's my blood, and [i]I[/i] hesitate to say he's even worth an arrowhead..." The clank of glass filled the smokey gray air, "I'll pay high grade for any immediate threats neutralized-- I can agree on negotiation for assigned commissions-- extra lives can also be negotiated."

Lucania stood, already envisioning the best way to curve her voice around the room in her mind's eye. She yelled, "[i][b]Tommy![/b][/i]"

Bento watched as Tommy began to eagerly make his way over to the bar, and how the man’s smug grin and confident swagger gradually shifted towards a more puzzled expression. Before him, the outsider that had spilt the blood of the family sat next to it’s most brutal enforcer, looking calm and collected. Far from shaking in his boots as he would have expected, Bento stared back, eyes still concealed behind those damned sunglasses.[color=92278f][b] “Very well, I can agree to those terms.”[/b][/color] He said, signaling for another drink from the bartender.

[color=39b54a][b]“Wen weze finished wit you, y-ai’nt gonna look so bored n all, ya stupid fuck.”[/b][/color] Tommy said, mustering up what little courage he had left under a strong façade. [color=39b54a][b]"Wat gives cuz? Why ain’t dis cazzo piece a shit face down in da dirt, eh?”[/b][/color] He continued, his true insecurities beginning to surface.

"Tommy," Lucania placed a hand on the man's shoulder, "This man-- our esteemed guest, our new... no, my new employee would like you to apologize for--" She turned to Cullen, "Just the sunglasses, right?"

[b][color=92278f]“Just the sunglasses.”[/color][/b] Bento confirmed, simultaneously reaching over to retrieve his drink from the bartender.

[b][color=39b54a]“No ways Bawss! Youze really gonna work wit dis jabroni fuck? I ain’t bout ta ‘pologize to no pazzo goner!”[/color][/b] Tommy exclaimed, pausing to spit in Bento’s drink, turning to speak directly to his former assailant. [b][color=39b54a]“I gots a reputation ‘round he-ah, an weze Castalyaz gots honor fa da family, ya hear me? Youze ain’t gettin’ aways wit dis!”[/color][/b] As he spoke, Tommy raised his bloody and roughly bandaged hand, displaying it in testament to the crimes Bento had committed against the family. In response the Immortal grabbed him by the wrist, as he shot a quick look over to the lady with the tommy gun, warning her not to interfere.

[b][color=92278f]“You really want to try your luck with me another time? Pull a gun, motherfucker, I dare you.”[/color][/b] The windcaller shot back, a trace of disdain creeping into his usual wooden demeanor. Tommy took the challenge and reached for the back of his waistband, and wrapped his fingers around a 9mm pistol, pulling it from his pants. In the interest of fairness, Bento had given him a head start, waiting until the gun was exposed before making his move. Drawing his right leg across his body, Bento then swept it back, hard. The motion took Tommy right off his feet, causing him to fall towards the ground, let down by Bento, who had maintained his hold on the other man’s wrist, rising to his feet as Tommy sank.

Tommy cried out in pain as the Immortal poured his drink out on the man’s wound. Pushing through the pain, Tommy raised his other arm, trying to point his gun at Bento’s head. Dropping the empty glass to the floor, he shot out a foot, knocking the gun out of Tommy’s hand, and sending it skidding across the floor. In a flash, Bento dropped a hand to his side, cocking and drawing his own weapon before Tommy could scream out the words, [color=39b54a][b]“I’m sorry!”[/b][/color] Bento released the man’s wounded hand and stood up straight. [b][color=39b54a]“I don’ wanna die! Cuz?! Help! Please! I ain’t know deyz was yer glasses, I’m sorry! Please don’t kill me!”[/color][/b] Tommy sniveled, his true nature finally revealed. He was nothing more than a coward, hiding behind the protection his name had afforded him his entire life.

[b][color=92278f]“Learn to shut your mouth. You’ll live longer.”[/color][/b] Bento eased the hammer down and holstered his weapon. Tommy was astounded by what had just happened. There was no trace of anger in his assailant’s voice, and his attack had been preformed without fear, or even the passionate rage one might have expected. Far more terrifying in fact, it appeared Bento had fought with cold indifference. [b][color=92278f]“I apologize for the scene, Miss Castalia.”[/color][/b] Bento said sincerely, [b][color=92278f]“There will be no further incidents. With these terms met, I am now under your employ. From this point on, my hand is yours."[/color][/b]

"Scene?" Lucania giggled, "He looked as if he might wet himself-- honestly, he still might!" The mirth on her face only served to further Tommy's shame. As he walked away, tail-between-legs, Lucania's laughter continued, un-stifled. If only she could have hired someone to torment that entitled brat before... "No, no Cullen-- you're getting a bonus for that, that was golden..." Gently unclasping her purse, she pulled out an excessively polished .308 bullet-- a sniper round. Snipers were few and far between in The Dust-- allowing for the usage of ornate golden bullets such as those to shine more as currency than as tools of long-range death. 

No, Lucania tossing the bullet the short distance from where she sat to where Cullen was, was quite the opposite of a 'long range death.'

The ever present woman off to the side, Carmela, gave the worlds most silent scoff to signal her disapproval.

"What?" Lucania said with some effort, residual laughter still managing to surface from within. "You've [i]never[/i] made him run off like that."

The woman shrugged in response.

"Threatening to castrate him isn't the same thing, Carmela!" Lucania sighed, a sigh filled with a repeated exasperation, "Not only do [i]La Cosa Nostra[/i] tennants forbid it, but honestly, I think it's starting to become a little bit tacky for us. Don't you think?"

Carmela crossed her arms.

And it became Lucania's turn to shrug in response, "Cullen's my associate-- he isn't blood, same rules don't apply to him." She waved as if the topic was as physical as the smoke that hung in the air, something she could dissipate with a wave of her hand, "And [i]technically[/i], he wasn't even my associate then, you know..." As her giggles returned to her, that signified the death of that conversation, and the birth of another, "He probably needed to stop using that hand so much anyway," She looked to Cullen, "If anything, you did him a favor. Maybe now he won't go blind!"

As she said the word 'blind' a sax player struck a discordant note causing momentary lapse in Lucania's joy, causing her to look to the stage. Observing the band, her mind still on business, even as she laughed at her own jokes.

[i]Perhaps we should hire a few comedians for the bar...?[/i]

How very girlish Lucania was acting. Was it an act? She actually couldn't be sure. She certainly hadn't been this... expressive... in quite a while. Either way-- It was certainly in  heavy contrast, or perhaps in direct opposition, to her surroundings and company. Despite being open to the public for less than 24 hours, the golden gleam of the bar was already becoming a smokey, subdued brass. Carmela the stoic stood to her left, and sitting to her left was a man, who despite being capable, was very clearly not cashing in on any talents he may posses.

They sat, as equals in immortality and employee and employer; like some socially conscious 20th century painting they contrasted each other. [i]'The rich aristocrat and her dour companions'[/i] would be titled, water colored, most likely. Perhaps the rich aristocrat could even be sitting, giggling, showering in her excess unconsciously, while planted firmly on horse. To further highlight differences in class.

"So, Mr. Cullen..." She began, a few drinks later, a few songs later, "Are you at all familiar with Aqueon crime?"

Bento swung his leg over Tommy’s flattened body, allowing him to hobble off in peace. Lucania’s pleasure was unexpected, but certainly spared the windcaller any sort of verbal concessions and apologies he might have been compelled to make himself. The question remained however, was she a true sadist, or merely unaware of the brutal realities of violence and pain. Wealth has long proved an effective shield. [b][color=92278f]“I aim to please.”[/color][/b] Bento joked dryly, easily raising a hand and capturing the valuable currency tossed his way. The Immortal remained standing for a moment, watching the interaction between Lucania and her silent guardian, Carmela. Their exchange was interesting in both its one-sidedness, and the familiarity and ease with which Lucania spoke. The subtext within the wordless communication between employer and employee suggested a closeness and depth to their relationship uncommon in others of a similar dynamic.

Bento locked eyes with the solemn protector. Between the stoic bodyguard and the stone-faced champion an understanding passed unspoken. Bento’s had no intention to step on anyone’s toes. He understood that he was an outsider, and as Lucania so expertly noted, his greatest value hinged upon his remaining that way. 

The bartender begrudgingly came over with a dustpan to clean up the broken glass on the floor. [b][color=92278f]“I apologize for the mess.”[/color][/b] Bento said. As casually as it had been passed to him, Bento discarded the golden bullet into pile of glass in the dustpan as the bartender stood to take it away. [color=92278f][b]“And if you could bring a bottle over, that would be appreciated.”[/b][/color] The poor man probably deserved it far more than Bento did. Besides, wealth was of no object to a man like him.

[color=00aeef][b]“Thank you, sir!”[/b][/color] The bartender replied, picking out the bullet and moving on to take care of his duties. Bento returned to his seat by Lucania and enjoyed a few more quality drinks as they sat in silence listening to the band on stage. Lucania broke the silence with her question, introducing a new topic to be discussed, presumably in regards to their future business.

Bento pulled out a rolled cigarette from the case in his vest, [b][color=92278f]“Aqueon crime?”[/color][/b] He repeated? Placing the cigarette between his lips. Striking a match from the bar, the Immortal lit the tobacco, [b][color=92278f]“Territory split between the Yakuza holed up in the main city centers, and the Traids controling the periphery. Both bound by their silly criminal honor code? I used to work for the Yakuza part time up in Gate’s Pass. Feels like another life, but it’s barely been a month since I left. Mostly just bounced for one of their brothels, their code is very particular about outsiders, but it wasn’t too hard to pick up enough of what was going on.”[/color][/b] Bento paused and took a drag, [b][color=92278f]“But I’m sure you don’t need a lesson on the subject, I’ve no doubt you’ve already done your homework… The question is: what is it that the Castalias are after in Aqeuon territory? Taking on the Triads, or betraying the Yakuza?”[/color][/b]

Lucania's lips parted as the spoke, the experience with which the man spoke was impressive, and useful, knowledge, even bare bones of the constantly changing complexities of Aqueous traditions. Most Motum Diversum citizens seemed too content with the relative comforts of the Wing patrolled streets to ever acquire any knowledge of Aqueon culture beyond '[i]they give us water, they have a weird honor religion!?!?!?[/i]' It was always a pleasant surprise to find people who were more than just a trigger finger and a gun-- even moreso when those people came to [i]her[/i], an even better bonus when the man stabs the sniveling cousin she'd wanted to do the same too for years. A fitting parting gesture from Lucy to somehow find the man. He was very clearly no ordinary citizen-- if his Immortality wasn't proof, his combat prowess and knowledge were ample evidence.

The dream she had last night came to mind, again. She had held a conversation with her mother, where they spoke, in esoteric terms, about change, about surprise. 

[i]It was almost as if she knew...[/i]

"Honestly..." Lucania leaned back in her chair, contemplating the question. A question she had been avoiding, a question the Immortal Windcaller didn't even hesitate to ask. "I don't know yet." She answered honestly, her eyes aimlessly surveyed the room, wandering thoughts laced her voice, "I suppose I'm still looking for other options." Shaking her head, she continued, "The Yakuza, honorbound by an agreement with the Triads, have enlisted our family to do what they want, but can't.  Neutralize the threat. All with the promise of discounted water, greater profits and swaths of Southern Aqueon land." Signaling for a waiter, Lucania requested a cup of coffee, two sugars... and a Bloody Mary, "My father, a very likely candidate for the most incompetent [i]Sottocapo[/i] in the history of the Cosa Nostra, obliviously relayed the news to [i]yesterday[/i]. It comes from his father--" She raised her hand, waving away both smoke and the details of her family's... [i]complicated[/i] situation, "I'm sure you already know the situation. Our Capo parrots the orders of a dreadful snake of a man, who himself isn't even of Castalia blood," Lucania looked at the drying bloodstains Tommy had left on Cullen, "Not to imply that that's worth much..." She gave a heaving sigh, "It's just..."

[color=00aeef][b]“Here you are, ma'am.”[/b][/color] A bartender, the same as before, returned from the kitchen with Lucania's [i]interesting[/i] beverages. Her attention never shifted from her conversation with Cullen, but she did pause she mumble a 'thanks Scotty' and obliviously toss the man a shiny bullet of some caliber or another. [color=00aeef][b]“Thanks Miss Castalia!”[/b][/color]

At least he was having a good morning.

"Mmm.." Lucania's body shuddered from the first sip of the coffee, "Damn fine..." She whispered, the steam of the cup wafted around her face, melding with the smokey atmosphere. A warmth traveled through her body as she drank of the dark garmanbozic nectar, speeding her thoughts, life, an awareness of her heart's beat-- [b]NOW[/b] she was awake.. She continued, now with caffeine fueled vigor, "You might not care about any of this-- but it's context for what we'll be doing over the next few days. I think context is important to keep in mind when you consider doing a job, and doing that job right." She took another slow, appreciative sip, "You're right, in that Aqueous honor traditions can be silly. Needlessly silly. And so is my family-- I could give you a million anecdotes about the inefficiency of my family following the traditional mafia rules, to this day and age. It was something to provide a sense of identity in the beginning, sure. But now it's being exploited by a rat to kill us off and take control for himself." She blew on the cup, "Paolo the rat..." She muttered between sips, "That can work for us though. All of it. I just need to keep it in mind when I consider our options..."

"I'm not sure the game he's play in having me sent alone to conduct his underhanded diplomacy, but I know there's a way to play the cards to my favor..." Another type of shudder shook her body as she exchanged the coffee for the Bloody Mary, "That's where you come in. The River Dragon Triad of Tas is strong, 30,000 strong, last I checked, full of Immortals, known for their collective strength, unique battle techniques, and connections to Old World Hong Kong. Honestly, the Castalia's couldn't take them head on if we wanted-- you've seen the states of most of our members, men like Tommy, my Father-- if we had 1,000 truly competent men like Leo, then maybe..." She clenched the bridge of her nose, the Bloody Mary hitting her system, "It can't be helped..." She muttered, switching back to her coffee, "What [i]does[/i] matter is that the Yakuza knows we couldn't take them directly, [i]WE[/i] know we can't. Our specialty has always been our sneakiness... our scheming, certainly not our strength. Buying our enemies. You already know this."

"So then, why send easily identified Bloody Sleeves, polylingual heiress, known publicly throughout Aqueous, with no instructions besides..." Her voice became an amalgamation between he father's and Paolo's, "'[i]Figure it out, Princess![/i]'" A sip of coffee, followed by Bloody Mary, followed by another stutter, "Alone, into potentially hostile territory, to broker... something?" She exhaled, her tendency to be needlessly wordy was beginning to show, "Either the Yakuza wants the Castalias to fail, Paolo wants [i]me[/i] to fail, perhaps both, or... something more... sinister is going on."

Bloody Mary. How appropriate, Bento mused. He would probably do well to switch to something lighter than straight whiskey himself, as he had started to feel a little more than loose. Signaling for a coffee as well, the Immortal continued to listen to Lucania explain the situation she found herself in. The situation he had been hired to fix. Bento took a long drag of his cigarette, tapping off the end into the ashtray as he released a thick plume of smoke from his lips. When the coffee quickly arrived Bento kept quiet, watching the potent, physical response spreading through Lucania’s face as she drank. A brief pang of subdued envy struck the Immortal; it had been a long time since he had felt something that way. The windcaller raised the dark liquid to his lips and drank deeply. He felt nothing. It was the simple things that hung heaviest in a weary heart. Bento poured the rest of his whiskey into the coffee.

Casting aside the few remnants of emotion he had left, Bento returned to the issue at hand. Lucania had been right, the former special operator indeed knew far more about the Castalia family than he let on. He had no personal interactions with them, but he’d read the files once upon a time. Much had changed in the past six years however, and with his newly updated perspective, Bento began to run the options in his head. Exchanging the hard coffee for his cigarette, he continued to listen intently. Another plume escaped his lips, [color=92278f][b]“The Yakuza are bloodthirsty and brutal… It doesn’t surprise me that they would try to break their agreement with the Triads.”[/b][/color] Bento stopped a moment, not wanting to push against his new boundaries, but he found himself determined to be more than just another gun. Cautiously he proceeded, [b][color=92278f]“Forgive me if I speak out of place, but according to your own estimations, this rat of yours does not have the necessary power to hold the Yakuza in check, should they take over the Aqueous territory. A pack of bloodhounds is only useful so long as they remain on their leashes, and I fear that this is not their intention. I do not mean to overstep my bounds in saying so, but I suggest you broker a deal with the Triads instead. By informing them of the Yakuza’s treachery, you free them from their agreement, and allow them to assault the Yakuza a full strength. From there, I can easily take care of your little rat problem. Unless of course, you’d prefer to do it yourself, in which case I can easily drag him before you for judgment…”[/color][/b]

As Cullen spoke, Lucanaia alternated between partaking the spicy kick of the Bloody Mary and the unenervating liquid silk that was the coffee, she found that she consumed the latter with far more gumption than the former. Lucanaia watched the plume of smoke leave his lips, her own obscured by a slowly draining glass of red liquid. He spoke from experience, but something else... regret? contemplation? He knew the Triads and Yakuza-- more intimately than he let on-- but she couldn't tell where it all comae from. His tells were either well hidden, or completely worn away. Both...? It was moments like this that she wished everyone, or at least other immortals, shared her ocular condition... [i]or[/i] that they were playing poker. 

[i]Christ, that's strong.[/i]

Back to the coffee; As she finished the mug, Cullen too, finished with a piece of advice. He was right, about a lot of it-- but not all. The sweet aroma of freshly roasted beans was already beginning to be replaced with the dull smoke again. She clicked her tongue, an annoyance expressed less at Cullen-- he proposed a very likely scenario-- and more at the situation.

"If only this were a rat we could snuff with an exterminator..." With a shrug, she broke into an easy smile, "Is it ever that simple though? Traditionally, a man in his role serves as an advisory figure to the Capo, otherwise detached from the Mafia... But our rat..." She cast an amused glare to Cullen, "Paolo Rivera? Senator, Serenity's power mogul? You partied with his wife last night?" She took a giggling swig of the drink, "He's done a good job keeping his relationship to us quiet publicly... But he's fostered a relationship with our men, shown them a lazy excess our ancestors fought to change."

[i]The same ancestors whose traditions made all this silly infighting and corruption possible.[/i]

"[i]Were[/i] I to oust him so simply, I'd wager we'd loose half the manpower he's won over in a about a week." She found her gaze wandering back to the band, "He's cultivated for us a gang of hedonists-- For over 200 years, the Castalias maintained a comfortable control of Serenity. That man begins advising my grandfather around the time I'm born, and we expand from Parkland to Wolfwater to Russel. Most of it was needless expansion, what wasn't was overseen personally by me. Now, we're going to be facing a full assault from the Wings, and we've nowhere left to expand-- it's suicide to approach Aqueon and Forsaken cities. In-fighting is going to be inevitable, soon, and he knows it. I want to avoid that for as long as possible."

"Don't mistake that as making exceptions," She added quickly, an edge to her voice, "I have every intention of killing him. I'd just like to minimize the inevitable fallout. He's got a materialistic love among some in the family-- killing him out in the open would make him some kind of martyr-- whereas killing 'Bloody Sleeves' would be like... putting down an emotionally rabid dog..." She sighed, letting a particularly soulful bass solo play out before she continued, "We need to be smart about it."

"Right now, though-- that's neither here nor there!" She clasped her hands together, a golden mirth returning to her irises, "I agree completely with your assessment of the situation at hand. Allying with the Triads could put us in a position of power against the Yakuza and serve as a powerful ally against the rat." She stood, "Of course, they'd see Bloody Sleeves coming from a thousand miles away atop their Kowloon skyscrapers, and I imagine the Wings are frothing at their mouths about now..." With a chuckle, she gave another shrug, "I suppose it's time to re-brand." Pausing after the statement, she stared into space, as if processing the contents of an entire library. 

When she spoke again, it was in a different, smokier voice.

"And you, Windcaller? I mean no offense, but your outfit is... Umm... rather [i]threadbare[/i].."

Bento drank his dirty coffee and reflected on the situation Lucania had laid out before him. She was right, of course. Bento had little taste for politics, but even he had to admit the situation warranted a little more finesse than his usual bull-in-the-china-shop routine. It should have been obvious of course, that in his attempts at navigating the criminal underworld, the Immortal would be a playing a very different game than before. His entire life Bento had been working to destroy empires; it would be interesting to be a part of building one. He had to admit he was a little surprised to hear that Lucy was married. Guilt played no part in it, she just really didn’t really seem like the type thinking about settling down. Perhaps it was more politics. Poor girl.

By the time Lucania finished explaining the situation and their path forward, Bento had finished his coffee. The comment about his clothes provoked little more than an amused grunt as the windcaller finished his cigarette and discarded the butt into his empty cup on the bar. [b][color=92278f]“That’s sounds like a rather fair assessment. Not only of the present situation, but-”[/color][/b] He began, pausing for a look down at ragged shirt and dusty vest. The whole ensemble had been greyed significantly since he came into possession of it, not to mention the numerous bloodstains, both new and old. “[color=92278f][b]The slums certainly can take hold of a man…” [/b][/color]