[H2][Center]☽[color=99004d]Masha [/color]☾[/center][/h2]

[center][b]Day 3[/b]
[i]{One Night in Hell club | 5 - 7 pm }[/i][/center]


After Cortes had led her to the back offices, she had settled down in his seat without giving him a chance to object. After he got out the books out of the safe she  went through all of them that they had on hand, making notes on her tablet as she did so, in Russian, so even if he was looking at what she was writing, the odds of him knowing what she had put down were limited. There was a lot in here. A lot of numbers, and part of her was kinda upset that she’d let herself indulge so much. She was still more than capable of doing this, but it was sometimes a little struggle to focus her thoughts for longer than about five minutes before she wanted to do something not so number oriented. 

But even still, she could tell that these numbers were not fully accurate. Who ever had been fixing them for him wasn’t as smart as they thought they were. They were good for any passing glance. But the look she was taking was more than that. “How’s that list coming?” she asked Cortes, looking at him over the rim of her glasses. He mumbled something she didn’t fully catch as he gave her what she asked for. She couldn’t look at these column of numbers anymore right now. 

She hummed thoughtfully, running her finger down the list and thinking back to where things had gone out for pay role. She had feeling that this wasn’t everything and this wasn’t everyone either. But it could also just be her total distrust of Cortes as well. “It might help if you had some sort of entrainment too,” she said, sounding much more like she was thinking outloud, her accent shifting a little more towards her first language. “And maybe some pretty waitresses too. A few krasivyye muzhchiny...” She laughed when her words came back to her and shook her head. “Good looking guys…” she corrected in English. 

“Well you look pretty fucked right now,” she said after a second, taking her glasses off and tossing them onto the desk next to her tablet. “Like I’m frankly surprised you’ve managed to keep the power on kind of fucked. How did you let this get so bad? Because this is much more than just not getting customers in the doors. This is like...criminal neglect…” 

“It started with one minor complaint that we weren't quick enough to address and things just crumbled. A pretty simple and unlucky case. Also, with Ominar’s ever changing, it's little surprise patrons no longer flock to this place. It's similar to those ancient route sixty-six roads becoming abandon when new and better highways are built.”

She pulled out her cigarettes again, looking longingly at the slim case next to it. But she knew better than to pull that out right then, so the smoke would just have to do. “I’ll make some calls in the morning about having someone come to take a look at how much it’ll cost us to do a remodel. Unless you have some connections there?” She thought she’d asked, but unless the person he knew was actually good, she’d still go with her own.

“I do, but he might be booked. I'll have to check.” 

“I’m going to need you to let everyone know that they need to come in early tomorrow for a meeting,” she said through a breath of smoke, lounging back in the car and crossing one leg over the other without care about how the skirt of her dress rode up as she did so. “Even if it’s their day off, they can spare a few minutes for this.”

“Very well, but I believe Nikki might need to make arrangements for her son. What should I tell them if they don't show up?” Cortes asked politely, but there was hint of seeking something to use to his advantage. 

Masha pursed her lips and looked at him to try and figure out what he was trying to get out of that statement. “Well she can bring the kid in for a meeting,” she said with a shrug after a moment. “I’m willing to forgive an absence if it’s for good reason. The first time at least. I’m not without mercy. But I’m also not to be taken advantage of.” She gave him a little smile that had edge to it despite the sweetness of it.

She stood then, without much warning and grabbed at her bag, her lit cigarette in her other hand. “I’m done with business for now,” wobbling a little on her feet. “Think it’s time for another drink.”