The Reformer

The rodeo always brought in a huge crowd to the Cupid's Arrow. Wolfgang was celebrating his third year of working at the bar, and regulars, friends, and co-workers had all turned out to celebrate. While usually a server, floating around the bar, the owners had him stationed behind bar tonight, dishing out the signature drink - the rodeo clown - as a guest tender. Wolf had dressed the part, more or less; he was wearing his brown boots, a pair of dark blue jeans, a matching cowboy hat, and - of course - a brown leather harness across his otherwise bare chest.

The bar was packed, the music was high and energetic, and a large, muscle-bound bartender named Spike was waving from his seat in the dunk tank. Wolf looked up as another patron approached him at the bar. "Why, hello there!" he said with a bright smile. "Happy rodeo days. Can I get you anything? If you get a 'rodeo clown,' you get to ring the bell. But I won't tell you what's in the drink or what happens when you ring the bell."

"Wolfgang? I didn't realize you uhh worked here." Trying not to stare at his chest, he kept his eyes fixated on his mouth. "Come on, give me a hint at least? I am not big on surprises; I get enough of those from work. At least tell me, would one of them get me drunk? Because I am trying to avoid that tonight."

"Finally kicked the bucket? He was sixty-two, he wasn't exactly old, and he was healthy." Adrian didn't let the other get to him; he knew that was what he wanted. Instead, he sighed and rubbed at his forehead. "There are a few, but I don't think discussing that with you will be fruitful at all."

When he was asked what the meeting was about, Adrian produced for him a binder he had been putting together of local children's groups and youth groups.

"I was hoping that you could help with this project.....you have a better understanding of the underbelly of the world. Which one of these do orginizations do not have ties with the Vitelli or Weiss Family? Public, or otherwise."

"I just mean like... say something is knocked over." He indicated the nameplate sitting atop the desk, reading Wolfgang DiMarco, Secretary. With one finger, he pushed it over. "I just don't want... that. To be like. The first thing someone sees, you know?" He reached forward to right the nameplate, but bungled the attempt and ended up pushing it fully off his desk so that it plopped onto the floor at Adrian's feet. A mix of extreme embarrassment and slight terror flashed across his face.

"Ah, shit..." he muttered, quickly springing from his chair. "Just let me- uh - sorry -" Wolf scurried around the desk and dove to retrieve the fallen item.

As if on instinct, he leaned down to pick it up for him, realizing Wolf had scurried around and the two of them were now at eye level near the floor, their hands colliding into one another as they both reached for the nameplate.

"Oh uh...sorry Wolf, I just thought I was closer." Pulling his hand away, he shook it a little. "Very uhhh......realistic example though."

reina + ??? : march 21, midday @ twice sold tales @boneyardstarters

"I....yeah...yeah...I don't really know much about this stuff. Or this type of merchandise. I am new to it...a tourist, you could say. I just...I am looking for something that could maybe bring a peaceful energy, soothing, and help me relax. I guess, into the house, if you have anything like that."

This year had taken off a pretty rocky angle for Tomo. That should have been enough on its own but, somehow, with every ticking hour, his reality seemed to descend further into some great tangled mess of bullshit. And now, on top of all that, his stepbrother had been targeted like that? Death, following after death, one thing after another. It boggled the fucking mind. (And that was without thinking about what was going on with Tomo himself. He really didn't want to think about that, actually.)

Tomo wasn't sure what had brought him to the convenience store this late at night. Wanderlust? Snack cravings? (The urge to buy a pack of cold sliced ham and eat in one sitting?) Either way, it was where he'd wound up, leant against the end of one shelf. His fingers tapped and clicked away at the buttons of his Game Boy Pocket. Being put on an enforced hiatus from work had left him with enough free time to finally pull out that copy of Pocket Monster Red (the boons of being bilingual, he supposed), but even he could admit that fidgeting with the device was an easy means of alleviating his own aimless anxieties.

A nearby presence, the scuffing of feet against the floor, pulled his attention from the screen for just a moment but he kept his gaze fixed, disinterest feigned. "Can't answer any sensitive questions about recent events right now," he said, flatly. "I'm busy trying to catch this weird duck." Tomo knew the Vitelli situation was running laps around the rumour mill at this point and, as an actor, he was a recognisable face. Then, with a short laugh, he finally turned to face his company. "Ew, never mind. That serious shit is so not me. Do you, like, need help or something, or am I the one crossing boundaries now?"

"Dude....I don't care about anything you're dealing with right now." Rubbing the back of his neck, he paused when they asked if he needed help. "Do you work here? Or are you just trying to be friendly right now?" His tone was more confused then, not sure that they realized who he was or what he was dealing with.

emmeline's eyebrows raised with intrigue as the other mentioned working for the city council - something that he most likely would regret mentioning the way her mind jumped to her own cause so quickly. there was less time being spent at the boutique as she was tiring herself out with conspiracy theory upon conspiracy theory about them, reading about them so much that they were now plaguing her dreams... there was now no escape. granted, many other terrible things were happening and she'd come to the conclusion that cities in deserts should not exist with the rate it was happening but then it would further explain why so many would gravitate here.

"Them?" His tone was sincere and free from judgment. "If I'm going to help you, I need to see things from your perspective. A disguise I get, it would be clever, I just need....I would like if you....if you shared more of your thoughts with me. Maybe you've seen things I haven't....that my staff haven't. I mean, they're more likely to play it safe around me, aren't they?" She was right, though, in Las Vegas, things always seemed to be less conventional. Maybe she'd turn out to be right, so better to treat this seriously than scoff and move along too quickly. Also, Adrian just wanted to make sure she felt seen and heard. Everyone deserved that at the very least.

Wolf clasped his hands in front of himself and rested them on the desk. "I uh -- oh." A slightly embarrassed chuckle fell out of his mouth. "That's uh. Kind of you. But no I just..." He glanced around his desk. "Mostly just help Zakir with whatever he needs. And of course whatever you all need. Keep the place tidy. I guess part of it is making sure everything looks neat. Gotta make a good first impression on folks." He smiled again. "Or second. Or third. Or, I guess, whatever number impression."

"Wait, they make you clean the office? Don't we have people for that exact thing? Why would they have a secretary who is supposed to be doing clerical work, you know, take time out of their schedule to tidy up the office? Was that in the job description when you applied for it?" Adrian really hoped that the city wasn't taking advantage of Wolf and his eagerness to please by making him do menial labor, that would fall outside of his actual position.

He shuffled a few papers on his desk, attempting to appear organized. The effort was mostly undercut by the fact that the papers refused to settle into any sort of logical formation, so he promptly set the pile down and slid it out of sight. "Ah, yes. That's right, Mr. Diaz." He paused. "Councilman Diaz." His brow furrowed for a moment before he chose to quickly move on. He spun around in his chair and snatched a post it note before turning again to slide it across the desk to Adrian. It stuck for a second before popping over to him.

"I wrote down all the businesses I could think of," he said, indicating the (perhaps surprisingly neat) handwritten notes on it. "I wasn't sure what counted as 'locally-owned,' though. I wrote down the Home Depot because Gerald is the franchise manager there. Like, he doesn't own the whole chain, but he's the one who started it up. And he's a buddy of mine, so he's local." Wolf leaned forward to look at the list. "And also it's been a while since I've been in your ward, so I couldn't really remember a ton of businesses. But I do like the Monet Cafe -- they make a great latte." He pointed out the coffee shop with a bright smile on his face.

"Thank you, Wolf, really, you went....went above and beyond on this for me." It took everything in him not roll his eyes at the other, "So what do you do all day while you're working? Or is your job just you know to look good to get more people to come back in?" He wouldn't put it past the city to hire a nepo baby just to be their disarming pretty boy. He sighed a little. it was hard to remain actually annoyed at Wolf, because of the whole...disarming pretty boy thing, he had an innoncene about him that you would find in.....a golden retriever.....or Beanie Baby.

Gemma exited the cafe with a flourish, placing the heavily tinted sunglasses on her nose and giving her long trenchcoat a sweep. She did not smile externally, but she lived to create an image, and she knew she looked like she could stab someone and look absolutely beautiful doing it. There was an edge to her that she carried everywhere she went, because she knew some might recognise her for who she was, and she dared them to try their luck. She wanted them to try.

Sadly, most of the time, nobody did.

She even went all the places where she could easily be cornered: dark alleys, empty parks, stuffy bars.

The Weiss capo brought the steaming cup of coffee to her lips and started walking back towards the centre. She fell in line with another at the traffic light and stared at their bag. "Your bag is open," she commented. "Might want to check if you haven't fallen victim to the city's lowlives."

"Oh, please, if they can read my jumbled-up thoughts, then by all means, they deserve to have it. Oftentimes, I just write down a word, and have a whole paragraph behind it." Chuckling, he snapped it shut, just to be safe. "Thank you, though, I really appreciate it."

"I completely understand. It feels like the city is a dry piece of wood just waiting for a spark. Don't worry, though, I promise we at City Hall are doing everything we can to keep that wood damp. The city will be undergoing changes, and I promise I will be pushing bold and brave initiatives to push back on the crime families. We can't give up on making the world a better place. I also plan on pushing.....serious change in the makeup of city council."

It was a simple game. A pencil holder sat on the far side of Wolfgang's desk. With one eye shut, he would simply fling a pen at it. If he got it in? Three points. If he hit it? One. If he missed? Minus one point, unless he forgot. Wolf was currently on fifteen points. Or, at least, he thought he was. It was hard to write down his score when his pen was regularly on the other side of the desk.

Wolf closed one eye, lined up his shot and -- damn. Fourteen points. He went to mark down the loss only to realize his pen was on the floor on the far side of his desk. With an annoyed tsk, he stood up from his chair and circled around to retrieve it. He scooped down, picked up the projectile, and paused, trying to remember what his score was now. It didn't come to him - and no bother. It was written down on a sticky note on his desk.

He stood back up and, as he turned, caught sight of someone just entering the office door. He popped up with a bright smile. "Oh, heya. Is there something I can help you with?" Wolf moved back to behind his desk, taking a quick glance at his notes. Fifteen points. Nice. "Or - wait. I was supposed to have something ready for you, I think. It's probably almost done. Just, uh... what was it?"

When he was finally acknowledged, it took everything in him not to audibly groan at what he was told. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he did sigh. Of course, the job he had asked Wolfgang to complete for him was too hard, and he should have asked anyone else to complete it for him. Pushing off of the doorframe, he moved a little closer to the desk, almost leaning on it.

"Mr. DiMarco....I...." Smiling at him, trying to be patient...and friendly with him, he was somehow the only person who managed to get under his skin. "I asked if you could put together that list of all the locally owned businesses in my council ward.... Please tell me you managed to get that finished."

Sunny was leaning his head on the counter at the old-school cafe, a judebox playing music from the sixties in the back, a lady walking around with long legs refilling coffee mugs, and the smell of freshly baked apple pie wafting from the kitchen.

He tried not to notice all those things, he was beat, exhausted. He'd followed Doctor Eric's orders and not worked for six weeks until the caste could come off. And now he was doing extra work to make up for it. Just a few more nights, he promised himself. Until he felt stable enough.

He opened his eyes, and noticed a pair of legs on the seat beside him. He quickly straightened, ran a hand through his hair, and slapped his own cheeks. He'd grown up on the Mehra mantra, never to be caught looking anything but picture perfect. Luckily, he had the face for it.

"Did you see if someone already came by to refill the mugs?" he asked, smiling brightly. He could see his mug was empty, no steam coming off it.

"I fear they did already did. But I imagine someone will be coming by soon, I just put my order in, when they bring that over I imagine they'll ask you if you want anymore. Welcome back to the land of the living though, was wondering if you'd wake up before I left or not."