Since the prohibition, Brendon’s parties had become increasingly in demand- and though he used to operate on an open-invite basis, where anybody who knew about the event could attend, these days he was more careful about who he let in through his grand front entrance, and consequently into his expansive garden to enjoy music and hors d'oeuvres with good company (he wouldn’t settle for anything less) in the moonlight under fancy verandas. And, of course, everything was spiced up by the lingering promise of alcohol- and not cheap shit, either, Brendon made sure of that, he spared no expense and expected only the best from whoever he worked with- drinking had been perceived as a nationwide problem before but now it was just the nation’s guilty pleasure and that made the prospect of Brendon’s parties all the more exciting. Still, it was risky business. Though he was somewhat of a star and popular in the wider-than-local music scene, definitely talented and respected for this talent, but he wasn’t some Hollywood untouchable. Even if times had changed and people had become more tolerant, he was still likely to be treated with immense bias if people ever did want to prosecute. Luckily the police force was incompetent and he didn’t waste the valuable time he had in worrying about whether his next party was going to be stormed by a police raid.

Instead, he spent his valuable time doing a multitude of other things- being as rich as he was had his perks, in that he could do absolutely nothing for an entire year and not even come close to drying out his bank account, unless he was feeling particularly indulgent. He spent entire days just sat at his grand piano, composing or just plunking on the keys for inspiration, sitting there all pristine in his silk robe, the very image of obscene luxury as he sipped on champagne from crystal glasses and was effortlessly, effortlessly beautiful. It seemed he went about life like it was just one huge show and even if he had nobody to impress or put on a show for- he put on a show. Other favoured pastimes of his were singing- though he never treated his party guests with a free show- and going out where nobody would recognise him. Funny, considering he was more than inclined to be in the centre of attention. He was born spotlight-ready. But being so subject to that scrutiny made it difficult for Brendon to make real, tangible connections- in fact, the only one he’d come close to making recently was with the bootlegger he’d recently employed, of all people. Really, Brendon, you do chose the best people to take interest in.

Funnily enough, here was this bootlegger, in this place where he wasn’t recognised. Not that it would matter much if he was- it was Dallon’s, so if there were any bigots around anywhere that expressed any of their bigotry towards Brendon, Dallon would deal with it. But the whole bar had an unintentionally fruity vibe, anyway. Dallon was entirely unaware of his accidental pansy club, Brendon was sure of it- but he wasn’t about to let him know. It allowed him to feel comfortable when Ryan bought him a drink and moved along the bar to get closer, at ease rather than like he had to watch his back before he did anything vaguely suggestive, like, make eye contact for too long, or something. He was smirking as he leaned closer, looking at Ryan wondrously, a little offended that he hadn’t been instantly recognised but- oh well. The mask did it’s job, he supposed. [i]Yeah?[/i] Brendon nodded, and then rested his elbow on the bar to bring his finger to his lips, smirk still pulling at the corner of his mouth and only faltering when Ryan reached out to straighten his mask. [i]Some cover.[/i] What- Oh. Shame. Brendon laughed, and drew back slightly though he didn’t particularly want to. [i]Almost didn’t recognise you, Mr. Blake.[/i]

[b]”That’s [i]sir[/i], to you, Mr. Rowe,”[/b] Brendon replied faux-haughtily, raising an eyebrow though he knew Ryan couldn’t see. [b]”And, frankly, I’m offended, old sport, I really am. Here I was thinking I was... well... [i]unmistakeable.[/i]”[/b] He shook his head sadly and took a sip of his drink, looking through his eyelashes and over his glass at Ryan, who he suddenly realised he had [i]definitely[/i] been into from the start. He would’ve done something about that, but- for one he wasn’t a big attendant of his own parties, and for another, he couldn’t just go around flirting with whoever he took a shine to, no matter how [i]fruity[/i] they seemed to him anyway. It was different now, though. Ryan had come onto him. He swallowed and put his glass down, clearing his throat. [b]”I recognised you. Some faces are difficult to forget,”[/b] Grinning, almost mischevious, he winked and then found his eyes gravitating towards Ryan’s hands, as he unwrapped his fingers from around his glass and instead used them to hold his chin as he propped up his head using his elbow. Almost flustered, he reached up to run a hand over his slicked-back hair, making sure it was still pristine. He noticed Ryan was going for a less controlled look, cowlicks sticking up and strands falling over his eyes. Brendon pursed his lips.

[i]Never got to catch up with you, after that soireé. It was just incredible.[/i] Brendon lifted his glass again graciously as if in toast and then took another sip before putting it back down. [b]”I try, Mr. Rowe.”[/b] [i]You were tellin’ me you host every weekend?[/i] He nodded, adjusting his own mask again slightly and looking distantly at Dallon for a second, who was pointedly not paying any attention. [b]”Did you know that [i]he[/i],”[/b]- He then gestured towards the bar owner- [b]”Is invited. He just thinks he’s too good for me.”[/b] Brendon tutted but his tone was easy and carefree. [i]Thinking of keeping me as your supplier?[/i] Brendon figured there was no point in holding back, so he sidled a little closer, tilting his head to one side. [b]”I’m thinkin’ of keeping you, alright,”[/b] He said smoothly. [b]”I like the way you operate.”[/b] He made a show of letting his eyes sweep over Ryan, drinking in this close to six foot of man that he had allowed to get away. [b]”We’ll have to get better acquainted sometime, though.”[/b]