Tom placed the cigar in his teeth and held it for a minute, allowing his hands to find a place in his pants' pockets. He looked around the room with the same unimpressed look that had become synonymous with the man. Jon, his son, would have loved it. Loud music, free drinks, and a place to crash after the night came to a close? Paradise for the boy. Sure, he would have loved it, but Tom had already decided it wasn't the place for his son - for anyone's son - and so Jon would stay home with his nanny.

One familiar face after another smiled and nodded at Tom as he slowly made his way to the bar. Celebrities, politicians, and gangsters alike all showed due respect to a man who made a life in a sea of death. Nobody caught his attention in particular as he lazily acknowledged each greeting - nobody except for the youngest Adler. [i]Chasity,[/i] he thought, [i]the cheeky girl.[/i] He pulled the cigar from his teeth and shifted his attention to the barman as he got closer. After ashing the cigar, he flicked his chin up at the server. "Rye."

Tom felt a hand brush his, and so he slowly turned to see who it was. Chasity Adler, the minx, who else? "Mr. Flowers," she said as she attempted to mask some sort of conflicting emotion, "how lovely to see you here as well. Do you know Mr. Levin?"

[i]Which one is he, again?[/i] he thought as he called upon his very short-lived rant in the car, [i]oh, yeah. The kyke. Not just any kyke. [b]The[/b] kyke.[/i] He nodded once as he attempted to make eye contact with Isidor. "Aye, I know the man." He tried not to address him by name. He was due his respect, it's true, but personal prejudices stopped Tom from addressing him as "Mr. Levin" and lack of familiarity stopped him from addressing him as "Isidor."

By now the bartender had placed a glass with two thumbs of rye on a napkin beside Tom's hand, calling for his attention. He nodded and sipped the rye.