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[sup] The Cross Hotel Manhattan, New York City [/sup][/center][indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][hr][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]
Richard Davis stood at the bar, far away from his family yet close enough to still be in the relative spotlight, though he was nowhere near the abysmal non-alcoholic beer that was reserved for the underage participants. As bored as he was by the whole premise of the party, he knew that there was no way in hell that he was going to resort to inauthentic alcoholism. If he was going to [i]drink[/i] he wasn’t going to settle for second best. For the moment he was good with the sparkling soft drinks and overpriced water; he wasn’t going to waste time debating the merits of considering him an [i]exception[/i] or bribe a wait staff that wasn’t keen to lose their liquor license. His boredom wasn’t worth getting on his father’s last nerve, especially after the heated conversation they had the previous night about where he stood in the inheritance standings. It didn’t help that Richard [i]really[/i] liked the status and wealth that came with not being the family’s black sheep.

So the “New Beginnings” mantra that was being tossed around was something he had to consider despite him thinking it was a bunch of nonsense. But until he had something on his father that he could use as license to go back to his gallivanting escapades, Richard was going to have to look like he was less rowdy and audacious. Fortunately, he was quite good at playing “pretend” and getting people to believe he was [i]reformed[/i]. It would take a lot to make him actually change his ways.

Moving from the bar, he decided to keep his eye out for anything or [i]anyone[/i] interesting. While he was lingering at the bar he had noticed the faces he was supposed to notice, but unlike his father he had no interest in shaking hands and introducing himself twenty-seven times as if they didn’t know who he was or who his father was. A few social groups that were made up of people he would have assumed were his age had converged, though he wasn’t in the mood to flirt and make nice. If he was going to engage with someone it was going to be through his humor and wit. It was a strange thing to want and feel. He never thought he would be cautious about introducing himself, but then again this wasn’t one of [i]his[/i] parties. As he continued to walk around the bustling crowds, it was then that he caught a face in the crowd that he hadn’t seen in two years. A face he was well-accquainted with.

[color=69698f][i]Alexandros Mossos.[/i][/color]

Richard smirked, with a glass in his hand as he took a few steps over to Alexandros. It felt almost like he hadn’t lost a step since their contest in Aspen. 

[color=69698f]“The world doesn’t change much for you, does it? I mean, outside of losing the stupid haircut you used to have.”[/color]