[color=9e0039][b]Don Dominic Omerta - Gomorrah[/b][/color]

[i]	Daniel swallowed, doffing his hat again. "Advice, for certain discreet matters of state."[/i]

	Clarice narrowed her eyes at the caravaner. She still didn't like him, not after the chaos he caused in her well-organized lobby, but…it ultimately wasn't up to her. She'd just have to grin and bear it.

	"As it happens…" she sighed, "Don Dominic was expecting you to come calling. He said that whenever you showed up, I was to send you up. He's currently on the mezzanine…."

	[hr]

	Clarice led Daniel through the main floor debauchery of Gomorrah before climbing a set of stairs and ascending to the mezzanine level. Here she knocked three times on a door, before an Omerta-made man opened it. The well-dressed thug looked cross for a moment as he eyed the pair. 

	“Mr. Floyd to see the Don,” She offered simply in explanation.

	The thug’s face softened and he nodded in understanding, stepping aside and allowing the Daniel in. 

	Dominic was seated at a card table with another dapper-looking gangster seated across from him. An array of playing cards had been splayed out in front of them in two distinct neat ‘fans’. The pair of them were taking turns swapping cards and purposely laying them into their own respective groupings. 

	Behind Dominic, an immaculately dressed and of course white-gloved Marjorie looked down at her now-husband's card playing with a mixture of confusion and interest. A gold ring with a diamond the size of a sugar-cube sat squarely on her finger. 

	“Slow down Domy-dear, I can’t understand what’s happening when you two move so quick,” Marjorie pouted. 

	“Ah honey let us play the game eh? Don’t worry I’ll teach you all the rules later…” Dominic replied as he took a puff on a big cigar clasped between his fingers.

	“He might need some help at the rate he’s losing….” Dominic’s rival player quipped. 

	“Quiet youse…” Dominic chuckled, “I still got a chance here.”

	The Omerta thug that had let Daniel in cleared his throat audibly, drawing attention to himself and the newcomer.

	“Apologies Don….Mr. Floyd to see you.” 

	“Ahhh Mr. Floyd, a pleasure my friend..” Dominic said as he, still seated, offered his hand, “Good to see you in person finally. Mikey why don’t you vamoose and let Mr. Floyd here take your seat. You won anyway…”

	Dominic’s card-playing opponent tipped his hat with a grin, “Better luck next time Dom.”

	“Ah get outta here you cheat,” Dominic fired back with a chuckle. He then ushered Daniel to sit in the open seat. Behind him Marjorie placed her hands on her husband's shoulders and gently began to rub them, 

	“Mr. Floyd,” Marjorie said with a glowing look, “Allow me to say that The White Gloves greatly appreciate the food stocks you sent. It was dreadful what happened with the recent flooding….those poor people. I felt so sorry for them…living in a slum to begin with and then having it all washed away….dreadful…simply dreadful. When my Dominic here suggested our families sent aid…I was all too willing to open our larders. It is the duty of the privileged to help the less fortunate, is it not? And the greater the privilege, the greater the responsibility of course.”

	“Indeed” Dominic added, giving Daniel a wink and a sly grin that said, [i]Just go along with it bud[/i].

	“So Mr. Floyd, or can I call you Daniel?” Dominic continued, leaning in, "What can ol’ Dom do for you?”