Brendon came to this bar relatively often, funnily enough, considering he could more than afford to frequent more upscale establishments. Such speakeasies were specially tailored towards those of perceived higher class and/or wealth- so, just for Brendon, except. They weren’t. Funnily enough, the richer the folk, the more intolerant they tended to be- so when Brendon has ascended to his certain level of fame (which he was kind of certain had plateaued in a musical sense, but his reputation could only spread further based on his personal and social life and... preferences), and he began trying to fit into classier speakeasies (something of an oxymoron in itself), he found that at the top people were just shittier. Wasn’t like there was a bar somewhere made specifically for rich gay men- usually because openly gay men never had the opportunity to make their fortune due to an unfair society unless they wanted some kind of career in entertainment. So, Brendon had lucked out, in a sense, and quickly learned his place- which was back in these places, smaller buildings with a closer knit pool of customers and a friendly owner he could become fond enough to call a- treasured acquaintance. Hey, Dallon knew he used the place to pick men up, sometimes, and he hadn’t yet said anything. So. Brendon felt comfortable here, safe.

Not that he wasn’t still careful, because being as he was, if he was recognised by some closed-minded individual or he misread the signs and hit on someone who didn’t swing his way, there could be- usually would be- consequences. That was a hard lesson he had learned with time. In the beginning, he had been proud and spiteful and he had felt invincible, starting fights with anyone who dared call him some hateful name or taunt him for how he was. As he grew older and was thrust into a modest spotlight, he didn’t become any less proud, he just learned when and where was a good place to show that pride. When he glanced over at the tall man sat beside him who had offered to buy him a drink, he had been cautious, because who knew if it was just some guy wanting company, and not in the way Brendon hoped- but after he caught his bootlegger in the act of fully letting his eyes drift to his mouth, Brendon relaxed his shoulders and eased himself into charming fluidity. He watched and tilted his head with interested as Ryan straightened up and he not very subtly admired his height. He was taller than Brendon, which meant he was in with a fighting chance. Lucky him.

[i]Almost didn’t recognise you,[/i] sir. Brendon laughed, and stuck his tongue out between his teeth slightly, his eyes crinkling up fondly at the corners, visible through the slightly too-large eye holes of the mask he was still wearing. Then- that wink- Brendon had gone to speak but the words became stuck in his throat and he cleared it by coughing, flustered, holding a hand up to excuse himself and wrapping his fingers around his glass with the other, bringing it to his lips to take a hesitant sip. Pull yourself together, Brendon. You’ve seen him before. You [i]knew already[/i] that he’s gorgeous. But- okay, now you know he plays for the same team. Interesting development in their professional relationship, but- Brendon could live with that. He studied him further, his countenance, and entertained the idea of referring to him by ‘Sir’- sure, Ryan worked for [i]him,[/i] but. He looked like he was... Powerful. In a different way. If he handled all his transactions like he’d handled them with Dallon and then Brendon himself, well. He was now a strong admirer of the man and was intensely interested in getting to know him better, in perhaps more ways than one. [i]I’m flattered.[/i] Brendon raised his eyebrows quickly and took another sip from his glass before setting it back down, readjusting his mask absently. [b]”Should be.”[/b]

[i]You succeed.[/i] Brendon flashed him another enigmatic grin, winking to return Ryan’s from just before. [b]”Grand of you to say, sport,”[/b] He rested his elbows on the counter and then gestured towards Dallon, suddenly distracted once the owner of the speakeasy had drifted into his peripheral vision. [i]I wouldn’t worry too much about his attendance.[/i] Brendon lifted the elbow closest to Ryan from the wood and turned himself bodily to face him more fully, one arm still braced casually on the surface. Even more casually he reached out with his foot, nudging Ryan’s while he made eye contact and pulling it back after a few seconds. [i]He[/i] is [i]known for being the ‘discounted’ bar in town, after all.[/i] Brendon laughed openly, and obviously at Dallon, and Dallon noticed and stared at him suspiciously for a second before he gave up, clearly too patient or not caring enough to bother finding out what was so funny. [b]”He absolutely is,”[/b] Came Brendon’s firm agreement, [b]”And what’s even better is that he doesn’t even know it.”[/b] A sympathetic but amused shake of the head follow and Brendon yet again lifted the half-full glass to his lips, before circling it and setting it decidedly down. After this, Brendon’s interested was swerved away from Dallon and the alcohol and he was instead intent on getting better acquainted with this handsome criminal sat beside him, and close beside him, might he add.

He tried not to let his breath hitch when Ryan moved closer, failed not quite miserably. [i]Appreciate it, Sir.[/i] Brendon really wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to stay sensible for, as much as he managed to keep his head about him these days. He managed to compose himself fairly quickly, though, and simply nodded graciously, waving a hand as if it was nothing. It wasn’t like that was to butter him up, or anything- Brendon did like the way he managed his business affairs. He was clearly intelligent, but from what he’d gathered from the brief two instances that they’d encountered eachother, Ryan hadn’t been originally inclined towards breaking the law habitually as a career. That was true for many bootleggers, honestly, but- Brendon recognised a pianist’s hands anywhere. Interesting. Said hands distracted him as Ryan moved his foot to rest between Brendon’s on the rung of the stool, and it took him a second before he realised they had little distance to speak of between them now. Brendon swallowed. 

[i]I’ve got all night, Mr. Blake, I don’t intend on spending it alone.[/i] Brendon pressed one of his knees against the side of Ryan’s leg, regarded him intently. That was the best news he’d heard all night, and a proposition if he ever heard one. [b]”Wonderful,”[/b] He said huskily, his voice dropping an octave. [i]You don’t have any plans yourself, do you?[/i] Well. Not until about five minutes ago. He shook his head maybe a little too fast. [i]You seem like a busy man.[/i] [b]”I make time.”[/b] A brief pause, and then Brendon suddenly shifted in the stool and turned fully around to face the counter, picking up his glass and downing the rest of the drink before he stood. [b]”Apologies, old sport, I’m just going to the restroom. I won’t keep you waiting long.”[/b] He brushed against Ryan as he walked past but didn’t even look over his shoulder to check they were understood. Brendon could already tell. He pushed through the men’s room door and glanced around. Empty. It was turning out to be Brendon’s lucky day.