[img]https://atbonfire.wordpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/mafia-3-world-3.jpg?w=1024[/img]

[sup][h1][center][/center][b][center][color=black]New Orleans[/color]
[color=#fff600]New Orleans[/color][/center]
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[sup][h2][center][/center][b][center][color=black]Lousiana[/color]
[color=#fff600]Lousiana[/color][/center]
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[color=#ff00ff]“Som’thin’ going down in New York?”[/color]

“Seems it, you thinkin’ they’d have this on if tha’ happin’ here?” The bartender didn’t look up to the screen as he motioned with one cloth-covered hand in its direction as he continued to clean glasses, the small stack of returned drinks steadily diminishing as he worked. Not all of them matched the general design of the other glasses, a sign of New Orleans' unusual laissez-faire attitude towards allowing drinks to be brought in from different establishments. Eventually, they’d get back to their place of origin, the honour among bars.

[color=#ff00ff]“Mon Cher, if you t’ink the ratings care about if a disaster be in the South or the East Coast, I got an ad scheme to sell you.” [/color]Remy laughed, but without any cruelty as he took a sip of his drink, earning a somewhat derisive snort of dismissal from the bartender as he worked.

[color=#00ff00]“This ain’t the South, Sugah, not even close.”[/color] The voice, in typical Southern drawl, sounded from behind him just a moment before Anna Marie slipped onto the stool beside him. Much like Remy she was dressed down from their usual [i]work attire[/i], although still suitable for a more casual night out. The long set of lace gloves adoring Anna’s arms the only hint to the nature of her mutation, while the ever-persistent sunglasses across Remy’s features his own means of hiding the impact of his X-Gene.

[color=#ff00ff]“What are you talkin’ ‘bout now [/color][color=#ff00ff]chérie[/color][color=#ff00ff]? Only thing more south than here is the ocean.”[/color] Remy laughed as Anna waived over for her own drink, Remy wordlessly noting in an amused way just how much faster the service was for her than him. What a kind smile and a tight set of jeans could do in this own.

[color=#00ff00]“That’s south, not [/color][color=#00ff00][i]South[/i][/color][color=#00ff00] Remy. My daddy used to say if the sweat you can smell is the ocean, not off a farmer’s brow, that ain’t the real South.”[/color] She looked over to him with a slight grin, and the deep black of the lipstick on her full smile imprinted into his mind. No wonder she was served so fast.

[color=#ff00ff]“Oh, you a [/color][color=#ff00ff][i]hick[/i][/color][color=#ff00ff], hick, [/color][color=#ff00ff]chérie[/color][color=#ff00ff].”[/color] He laughed, longer this time, especially as she laughed alongside him.

[color=#00ff00]“That’s me Remy, cornrow bred, cornbread fed.” [/color]Her eyes drifted away from him for a few moments, even as she still laughed, and even if they were ‘on the job’ he regretted it, losing the spark of her amused eyes. He didn’t have long to mourn though, as his attention was drawn to the entrance to the bar as an assortment of men entered. Armed men. Headed up by a face he unfortunately recognised.

“Remy LeBeau. I felt the implications of your return were made fairly clear.” The man spoke with the hint of a French accent, not a local, but of the founding naton across the sea. Those who flanked him were unfamiliar to Remy, no doubt newer additions of the Thieves’ Guild he had long left behind. The barman had made himself scarce a moment before, no doubt in on it.

[color=#00ff00]“Friends of yours, darlin’?” [/color]Anna stood from the stool beside him, casually stretching in a manner which belied the obvious hostility from across the room.

“You’re going to want to leave this alone, girl.”

[color=#00ff00]“Well, now I am definitely not going to do that.”[/color]

The tone in her words was suddenly deadly, even as Remy also stood to join her, rolling up his sleeves as he did so.

[color=#ff00ff]“If we’re going to do this, Monsieur, I just have one question for you.”[/color] The roll of his sleeves hid the sudden motion of the deck falling from his concealed place into his outstretched hand, a slight flick of his fingers heralding his next words. [color=#ff00ff]“Is this your card?”[/color]