And just when it started out so pleasant, right?
Kevin Muller already regretted the tossing of the cigarette before he entered, but then again he didn’t expect a character like Nicholas Diagoraz to stumble through the door looking for his next drink. The entire look and feel of the man made Kevin feel uneasy— the odor of cigarette, the antagonistic quips, the grimey gritty look of him, and the whole act he embodied like he owned the damn place. When one of the ladies present asked for a ‘white knight’ to deal with him he almost jumped at the opportunity. However, it was hard for him to figure out if this ossified oaf of an owl was an intruder or another ‘invited guest’ for this whole cockamanie joke of a gathering. Probably the only reason Kevin didn’t do anything when he began starting trouble with another one of the other guests. Considering said guest was the biggest pushover this side of Long Island, it really didn’t help. The detective’s fists balled for a second as the scene went down.
His eyes looked to the younger man as Diagoraz stomped off to another corner. Between his nerves, the lights, and the obscure situation they were in… perhaps some small talk was in order? Straightening up from leaning against the wall he headed to try to initate some conversation with the other guest. Kevin took a light breath as he retrieved his pack of cigarettes and placed one in his mouth as he held out the pack of Lucky Strike Cigarettes as if to offer the guy a smoke.
“That looked rough, you need a smoke?” He asked before he added a quick comment on to the question.
“They’re toasted.”The younger man suddenly looked up at Muller, clearly a bit on the jumpy side. He glanced between him and the cigarettes, letting out a big breath. He was anxious— that much was obvious, though you didn’t need to be a masterful detective to deduce that. Especially so soon after that spat with the Diagoraz character. Most people would be rattled by that situation and well… he tried his best when he was asked to take care of it. Hopefully things would pan out and more spats like that wouldn’t take place throughout the night; though Kevin wasn’t counting his luck on that happening. The night was going to be a disaster; that much he could feel in his bones and in the air.
“Eh, I’m not really a smoker, but I’ll give it a try. Might dry out the sleazeball’s sweat.” The sound of a British accent was rough and coarse on his ears.
“I don’t have a light, though.”Kevin retrieved a lighter from his pocket in what seemed like a hot minute,
“Not a problem.”“Glad to see someone’s prepared.” The British man attempted a chuckle, but it mainly came out as a choppy sigh. He took a cigarette from Kevin’s pack of Lucky Strikes and placed it between his teeth, before he lit it with the lighter that Kevin had kindly passed him. He took a long drag on the cigarette— which was probably a bad idea since it was followed up by a wheezy cough that let the smoke escape from his mouth.
“So,” He paused to take a puff,
“How’ve you been enjoying the ‘party’?”The cigarette really didn’t help with the roughness of his accent, making him harder to understand for those who were more used being surrounded by Americans, but Kevin was used to understanding difficult dialects and accents given his life experiences, particularly the ones overseas.
“About as well as a good case of trenchfoot.” Kevin replied as he lit his own cigarette as he kept an eye on Diagoraz, slipping the tobacco in-between his lips as he did so. He wasn’t fond of the situation and the British man could tell that as if it were plain as day.
The British man’s cigarette eventually ended up being rolled about on his tongue, with the occasional puff being taken.
“Surprising how me and you have the same opinion, eh?” He looked around at all the other guests with angst, tapping his leg impatiently.
“I just want this Mr. Jig fellow to turn up.”Kevin Muller took a slight nod,
“The sooner this is over the better it is for all of us ‘guests’.” He looked back at him. “Don’t we all. Suppose we’re expected to get acquainted, otherwise this Mr. Jig would’ve shown up by now. You got a name to go with the accent?.”The man hesitated, having forgotten his name in the midst of the nerves.
“Uh, Conner. Conner Blackburn.”“Kevin Muller.” Kevin held out his hand, though it was probably more of a second nature than an actual show of manners and respect. He had shook hands with many people in his time as a detective and even more since he had found himself in more motivated employment.
Conner shook his hand, unaware of whether it was gratitude or not.
“Nice to make your acquaintance, Kevin.” He was more comfortable with smalltalk it seemed or perhaps his nerves had evened out?
“Same to you, Conner. I'm hoping this shindig gets started soon.” Kevin stated as he looked over the room one more time.
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