[center][h2]The Family Businesses? (Katya Voss cont.)[/h2][/center] [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/ZLfVeJT.png[/img] [/center] [i]There’s a father,[/i] Dorian mused as Katya moved to carry out her decision. Whether the patriarch was at hand, not to mention [i]handy[/i], might be a consideration. Then again, the apparent ages of his adult children offered the possibility of his incapacitation by any number of maladies. Here on the outer rim, a man was considered long lived if he accumulated sixty good years. What he’d seen of Katya’s mettle was admirable, but the presence of a father might force her to stand her ground, a frequently unwise tactic. Still, the little knowledge he had wasn’t worthy of a course of action. He had to know more. “Fahgive mah interruption,” Adler spoke as a deliberate hand pulled a second revolver from within his coat. The barrel dipped, pointing between his knees toward the floor planking as he popped the cylinder open. “Ah might be mistaken,” he continued as one by one, bullets were loaded, “but past experience tells me that yah friend shall return, doubtless with numbahs tah back his play.” He gave the cylinder a quick spin, followed by a fluid snap of his wrist to flip it into place. “Grady,” he said. In the blink of an eye his arm extended, the gun scan emitting a near inaudible whine as he targeted his own reflection. “You were asked a question,” he swiveled on his barstool as the pistol slipped into its’ holster. “At this juncture, tha right move fah yah family’s well being is tah answer.” Dorian’s eyes lay casually upon Grady, his shooting hand once more wrapped around the drink glass.