[color=bfbfbf][sub][table= //////= POST DESIGN v1=\\\\\\][row][sub][sub][sub][sub][sub][img]https://i.imgur.com/eXWmsC5.png[/img][/sub][/sub][/sub][/sub][/sub][/row][row][cell][sup][img]https://i.imgur.com/VeALZKX.png[/img][/sup]

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[/cell][cell][color=white][center][sub][sub][sub][sub][sub][img]https://i.imgur.com/DHKvx27.png[/img][/sub][/sub][/sub][/sub][center][color=2e2c2c]Gala·   |@Exit][/color]Gala·   [@Exit][/center][/sub][/center][/color][quote][color=2e2c2c]____________________________________________________________________________.[/color]
[color=9f9f9f]He was dressed like a shadow, black, everything was as dark as night. From the polished shoes to the t-shirt. Staring at himself in the mirror, he slid the blood red dress shirt. A second layer. He was a fan of checking himself out in the mirror, but he was not a fan of galas, especially mission based ones. Buttoning the dress shirt up and adding family crest cufflinks. Snapping his fingers at the thought, events in the upper ring were all about individuals and families flaunting themselves. The whole Soran family was known to be that way, then there is Katakuri Soran. The only and eldest son, a shadow to the family name, but a prominent pawn in the family company. 

The more he was allowed to think, the more he swore that he could hear the anti-social parts of him whispering in his ear. Stay home. Don’t go. He wished he had that option. If he stayed home the LSF would be all over the Soran Estate. Watching. Questioning. Being annoying to what he needed to focus on and do. Putting himself in an out-of-place position would cause Chosah to be in danger, he couldn’t allow that. All the energy from his body felt like it drained at that thought, [i]Chosah[/i]. Why did everything that did not include Chosah keep escaping his mind or disinterested him at the moment? Tying and untying, repeatedly – “[color=9e0039]God dammit[/color]” – he attempted to properly tie his tie once again. This was frustrating for no reason. Pinching the bridge of his nose and shutting his eyes, Katakuri sharply inhaled. 

Holding his breath for a minute, he slowly blew out the co2 that was filling his lungs, “[color=9e0039]Hello it is so good to see you –[/color]” rolling his eyes “[color=9e0039]– we met before but nice to meet you,[/color]” he grabbed the shot on the side table and downed it. 
Shrugging his shoulders, “[color=9e0039]Let’s pretend we like each other…[/color]” staring himself in the eyes as he put the shot glass down. He was preparing himself for the suffocating atmosphere that the Gala would hold throughout the night. 

Approaching his vehicle, his tie was properly tied, and he was layered under a suit coat. Sitting down in the driver seat, he adjusted his mirror. Giving himself a once over before stroking his fingers through his hair. Thinking about everything and what this gala might entail. 
Shortly after getting into the driver seat, Katakuri found himself arriving at the Gala. Looking at the building and all the lights on, the sounds, and the atmosphere. He felt his chest hollow and his stomach drop. Rolling up to the parking area, he left the vehicle to the valet. Giving them a decent tip before heading inside. Going through the doors was like playing eenie-meenie-miney-mo, who was going to approach him. Someone always had something to say to him about the Soran industries or financial side of the family company. Glancing around the room, he noticed that he was one with the earlier crowd. Noticing Zhen and her husband. 

Making his way over to the tables, he noticed he was at a table with some interesting names. Two spots for Cheng, a spot for Xu, Gan-Lan, Varrick, Zolta and Kuem. This was a mixed table when it came to political opinions especially in the topic of benders.  Katakuri decided to take his seat while he began to think about the different surnames at the table.
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