[b] Thomas - Alley Behind Tommie's - Demaro/Frank Bertinelli [/b]

Thomas stepped out of the bar, exiting into the Ally right behind. He saw Demaro standing beside a man in a black pinstripe suit and two large men. While large, neither of the men were Demaro's size, and Thomas took a confident guess that whatever firearm was hidden in their jackets weren't as large as Demaro's either. "Mister Swindle... A pleasure to see you, my friend."

"Bertinelli, 'friends' is not how I'd define our relationship... You did, after all, threaten to rat to the cops on me. I think we both remember Mr. Kinner here's mood when he finished handling your boys..." 

"Eh, I fired those losers anyway!" 

"Alright, I'm positive you didn't come to reminisce about old times. What do you want, Frank?" Thomas ordered. Bertinelli was the only man who annoyed him more than Sal Moreno, and that was quite the feat. Thomas hand hovered over his side incase the need arose to draw his weapon. 

"I've come to ask for you help, Thomas." Bertinelli gave him a look, alternating from his former smug look. "I need your help."

"With what?" Thomas replied curtly.

"You're a larsonist, Thomas... You're the king of thieves in Crown City." The man said, smirking at him. "I need your help with a favor... An old friend of mine... he had some important information. He stored it in the Crown City Bank."

"So? Ask him to withdraw it-"

"He's dead. Sal Moreno put a bullet in his chest three weeks ago." Bertinelii said with a healthy amount of poison in his voice. "Now it's locked in the Private Vaults until a family member or relative claims it. And of course, he has no family left." 

"Sal Mor- That means you boys are the idiots who banged up Anna Moreno?" Thomas accused, confirmed by the smug look returning to Frank's face. "Moreno came after me cause he thought I'd screwed his daughter." He shook his head in aggravation. "Alright... So, I'm a larsonist, you need something that's in a PV... How much are you going to pay me to get this?" 

"I think we can agree on something around twenty-five grand?" Bertinelli asked, his eyebrow rising. Thomas shook his head, purely dignant. The man chuckled lightly.

"Thirty-five, you got a deal." 

"Ah, C'mon Swindle." Bertinelli exclaimed. He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "Thirty grand, how bout that?" Thomas looked at Bertinelli for a moment, considering the drop. With a sigh, Thomas shook his head, extending his hand.

"Thirty it is, Bertinelli." The two men shook hands, and one of Frank's boys produced a manilla folder, handing it to Thomas. "I'll call you tonight after we've got everything arranged. Don't screw me over, Francis." As Demaro and Thomas walked back inside the bar, the latter man handed the bouncer the folder. "Make copies of these and get them to Baylen. Tell him I need him to confirm ASAP."