Most Serene Key Republic Delegation- Bartholomew Hemingway
 
“Wonderful, I’ll work on making proper reservations for all of us. Does 8 p.m. sound agreeable? I would like to take some time to visit my quarters and contact Key West about recent developments. It would be an absolute pleasure to see all of you there.”
 
Bartholomew smiled broadly at both delegations before moving to shake all of their hands. Alexander followed suit, though his smile seemed slightly more… off.  With the niceties concluded, Bartholomew took another long drag from his lit pipe and moved away from the group, pondering the upcoming discussions. His Serenity had very grand plans for the East and Key West’s role in it. The outbreak of War in the West, however, was an unforeseen development, and Bartholomew was curious as to how this would impact His Serenity’s plan. Once more, the Bear and the Bull fought, threatening to drag an entire continent into their pissing match once more.
 
Since Bartholomew had broken off to speak to the Texans, a few more delegations had settled in and made their rounds. Among them Bartholomew spotted representatives from the small Free State of Franklin, along with those from the northern Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. He’d kept his eyes peeled throughout the introductory day of the convention in an attempt to locate important players and developing trends amongst the assembled delegations. It appeared that young Kimball’s NCR was already being isolated, with their delegate having done little more than cause trouble and spout rhetoric. Still, Bartholomew had to respect His Serenity’s wishes to support the Bear in the West, as he recognized the importance of propping up friendly and like-minded states. Just like the Key Republic, however, Bartholomew was more focussed on the East for the time being, and his feet brought him towards his friends from Franklin.
 
Bartholomew moved into the small screen of cigar smoke surrounding the pair of Franklinites, appreciating the familiar aroma and taking a small puff off of his own pipe. He quite appreciated the folks from Franklin. Their culture was refreshingly genuine, and while it had strong parallels with Conch culture, it lacked the showy opulence and haughtiness of the Keys. Bartholomew reached out to shake both of the Southron’s hands, his six skinny fingers firmly grasping each of their hands.
 
“Gentlemen, it is a pleasure to see you made it. I pray your trip was a pleasant and shaded one. Mr. Connor, I am currently in the process of making dinner plans at the Tops Casino for 8 p.m. tonight, and it would be a pleasure to have you along- my treat. His Serenity sees a bright future for both of our nations, and I hope to speak on this topic tonight, if you can make it.”
 
After Bartholomew finished explaining pleasantries with the inland Southerners, he excused himself from the convention hall, making his way to their assigned suite to prepare for dinner tonight. Meanwhile, across the room, Alexander was attending to other, albeit similar, business. He had finally accepted some food and drink, having already nibbled on a bit of cranberry scone which lay on the plate before him, and was currently nursing an inviting cup of black coffee. Peeking at his diver’s watch, he decided to attend his final bit of official business for the night and make his way towards the oddly-dressed man from the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. He had had experience dealing with these northern folk, as they were some of his primary trading partners outside of the Republic. They were a peculiar folk, and were blind to the whispered truths of this world, but he did not harbor any hate for their kind.
 
Within moments, the sharply dressed, mustachioed man made his way towards to traditionally clothed northerner. He extended a hand towards him, as was customary in the Keys, but delivered a much softer and somehow more unnerving shake of the hand than Bartholomew would have offered.
 
“Mr. Smith, isn’t it? I’m Alexander Suttbray, of House Suttbray,” he paused with a slight smile, waiting for recognition. For better or worse, he assumed this man had heard of him in the past. 
 
“I would like to extend to you a dinner invitation, as it seems you long for food and drink” he gestured towards the man’s beer. “My fellow delegate, Mr. Hemingway, would love to have you at his table at the Tops at eight tonight. He wishes to discuss with you matters of a certain import, and perhaps share a drink or two.”
 
Alexander settled into the barstool beside Sherman, prepared to make small talk if need be. He would not be attending the dinner tonight. His business would only begin when the sun was firmly beneath the horizon and the stars smiled cruelly above. Only then would he be prepared to speak with the fair young woman from earlier.
 
 
7:50 p.m., The Tops- Bartholomew Hemingway
 
Bartholomew sat straight in his chair, looking over the nearby balcony onto the gambling floor beneath. New Vegas certainly had its own sort of charm to it. It was a city where dreams were either fulfilled or shattered, hazy with smoke and neon and smelling of cheap perfume and expensive booze. He watched as each of the invited delegates entered the building, their demeanours standing out starkly against this Western air of Old World opulence. These were all men of the East- above such base temptations and more concerned with the well being and prosperity of man in this new world. It was for this reason why His Serenity had orchestrated this dinner from Key West, after all.
 
After each of the invited delegates had been greeted and orders were placed, Bartholomew took a stand and clinked his glass of gin and tonic lightly. What he was about to present to those assembled before him was the main purpose of the Key delegation in Vegas. In recent years, both the Texans and his own people had been tied to the bloated corpse that was California. The West had overshadowed the growing peoples of the East with their warmongering and refusal to change, and all were left in a dark age of sorts because of it. No longer.
 
“Gentlemen, I’m sure you all have at least some inkling as to why I organized this dinner. This continent we call home has yet to pull itself out of the slump our ancestors in the United States put us in, and we are, frankly, all to blame. Five years ago, most of us fought in some capacity to put an end to tyranny in the Americas by making war with the Bull of the West. While it was a noble and just cause, we failed- and not just because of the Treaty of Goodsprings and its preservation of the Legion. We failed because we proceeded to do next to nothing to improve the state of humanity afterwards. Liberty, freedom, democracy- these are all ideals which we hold dear, yet the West and Northeast harbor tyrants and extremists which would undo all of the fragile progress humanity has made since the Great War.”
 
“In the West, the fate of millions lies in the hands of dictators like Barnaky, Lucius, and, dare I say, Mr. House himself. Even the former paragon of western democracy, the New California Republic, has shown its true face today with its disruption of the peace talks and blatant expansionist attack on the Legion. No effort was made to let diplomacy solve their problems. We cannot let this become the norm for America, lest we repeat the mistakes of our ancestors. His Serenity has provided a starting draft for an alliance of sorts which would bring our enlightened nations closer culturally, economically, and militarily. The American Co-Prosperity Sphere would be an axis of nations dedicated to the spread and perseverance of liberty throughout the Americas. While a lofty goal, it is one which we must pursue if we are to bring humanity out of its dark age. The agreement brings along with it more practical applications as well. Closer trading ties, mutual protection, the return of international law. We hope to use this alliance as a way to create and support democratic regimes for and of the people of America. In addition, we have an interest in hiring the Angels of War as a possible multinational military force to support this alliance and ensure the dictators of the West cannot stomp us out.”
 
Bartholomew moved a briefcase onto the table before continuing.
 
“I’m sure you all have many questions about the exact details, but does anyone have any input before the reveal of the actual document?”