shark in the water

MR. GOVERNOR.

—

“Now you’re just an old man’s flatterer.” Not that Julian’s complaining — what with the smile that accompanies it, it’s underlying ease with the usual serious stance. A man’s to have both, if he’s to succeed — a politician, ever more so. 

As for observance, it’s a pride that lingers as close to Julian’s heart as his legacy does; a milestone in his career, knowing not only himself, but others. Overexposure comes in bouts and holds its benefits, tiny rewards for life-long servitude. 

“Your face,” he nods, “your suit, your… hands. There’s a way lawyers carry themselves — I can’t explain it. Shoulders high, but head low; the way they speak, too. More subtle when you’re off duty, but it all comes alive in court. It’s quite magical to see.” A well-built defense, their very own version of a speech. “I believe, perhaps, I have been around too many in my time — and it stays with you. Just as I’m sure you could spot a politician from a mile away. Or a criminal, depending on your field.” Julian cocks his head to the side then, the liquid swirling inside his glass following the same pattern, as though both he and his liquor stop to ponder on the matter. “Or both.” Isn’t that the catch? It takes one to know one. “Unfortunately, those two terms tend to cross more often than we’d like them to.” 

In his palm, the bourbon is inviting, so Julian sips on it one more time before trying for a guess: “Civil? No— civil is too poised. Civil would never humor me as you have.” For a second longer, then, Julian simply stares at his companion and thinks, and thinks, and thinks. “…Alright. Damn my ego, I suppose I can accept defeat.” 

“I like to believe I’m not a flatterer and more of an honest man,” He winked, though he felt like he was anything but honest at times. 

As the Governor goes on, he displays a smirk on his face. The fact that he can read him like an open book, he feels honored though he hopes that’s not the case when it comes to arguing in court. Anthony knew he had to be as emotionless as possible in the court room. Any sense of showing emotion blew his chances of winning. “I hope that’s not a bad thing. I know people tend to say that lawyers are sharks.” He figured he was a shark as well, biting off anyone that came too close towards him. “Politicians are easy to spot, even more so than criminals. You all carry yourself a certain way as well.” Like they were always having to be on, it must be existing. 

“Correct, I’m not anything to do with civil. I’m a criminal defense attorney.” He had plenty of cards with him but he didn’t want to offend the man by offering him one. Then again, he could be used for any legal advice. “I have a card if you’d like.” 

CLAUDINE.

LOCATION ━ Gentille Fille.

WHO ━ Open to everyone.

For most women, accompanying their husband to a strip club was completely taboo. The perfect way to provoke one’s inner jealousy to make itself known and disrupt the peace within a marriage, but for Claudine, it was her favorite pastime. It gave her the opportunity to flirt, drink, dabble in illicit substances and spend a shit ton of money on the gorgeous women that worked there… what more could she want on a weekday? 

“Another martini, darling. Two olives.” Her request rolled off her tongue as she flashed the bartender a faint smirk before turning her attention back to the hordes of people that filled the casino. It seemed as though the flow of people at Gentille Fille was constant, and she wasn’t surprised in the slightest… being one of the hottest clubs in the city for those who could afford it, there was no wonder some of these dancers made more in a night than the regular joe made in a month.

Icy hues zeroed in on the person at her side, surveying them for a few moments in an attempt to figure out their reason for the night’s visit. “You here for business? Or pleasure?”

He was definitely a face that could blend in without much of a problem, especially around here. Not much was needed to blend in, just a face that looked like he knew what he was doing. Gentille Fille was a good place to do what he wanted, without the repercussions of anything. His fingers tapped on the glass of his drink, “Pleasure, I guess,” Definitely wasn’t business. Not here, at least. “Why are you here?” Though he thought he already knew the answer to the question, just by the martini in front of her. “Because of it’s just to drink, feel free to join me for the rest of the night.” 

MR. GOVERNOR.

—

Off of him, Julian lets out a warm, hearty laugh. “Could you imagine it?” Yes, indeed, he could — seen enough edits in his time, to fear those of his own. “Luckily, the genes Lili,” — his mother — “passed down are enough to keep it black. Though I don’t doubt the internet’s will, and how realistic they could make it.” Julian pauses only to sip his bourbon, that smile still lingering. “In politics, however, I suppose the older, the better. There is a level of trust, on one who looks as though they have been around long enough.” Another pause, licking any remainders of liquor off his lip — thinking, still. “But not too old, so that we don’t know what we’re talking about. A tight rope, if a man ever had to walk on one.” 

“Thank you very much,” Julian nods, widening a grin. “…If you are in the field, I have not seen your face before. May I guess?” Beat. “Law.” 

MR. GOVERNOR. 

Location: Off the Record Open to: All

The best place to be seen but not heard. It was both an uncanny and appealing tagline for a place where people as so notoriously mistrusted as politicians attended so often– Off The Record. The name, too, suggestive. It seemed almost like the perfect trap, this place; and yet, it never ceased to deliver exactly what it promised: privacy.

With this, Julian was there often. Sometimes for the (too many, perhaps) unofficial meetings; sometimes only for the much needed drink between several hours of pretending. Now, that did not exactly mean Julian could be himself here – someone who he was no longer sure he could recognize –, but the hours spent inside still were very much a breath of fresh air.  

It did have a tendency to get quite crowded, however. While he could have made a point to request a table despite there being none available (being Governor did have its perks, and most were as futile as this), Julian simply headed directly to the bar instead, taking the last remaining empty seat.

Bourbon in hand, his eyes wander — down to the counter and to a forgotten copy of today’s New York Times, a full page spread with his very self on it.

“…Is that what my hair looks like?” Not good nor bad — just unexpected. For someone whose face is so often plastered across screens and cemented in print, Julian hardly spared any time to analyze his own image. Not that kind of image, anyway. And that image shows the same as it does in real life, now: black strands brushed presentably into place but not obnoxiously so; no gel, or anything that battles his man of the people slogan appeal. He laughs, “Hopefully that’s not a deal-breaker for the millennials.”

This wasn’t a place that Anthony frequented, knowing of its reputation to accommodate people off the record. There wasn’t much of that happening for him in his line of work. He didn’t want to know if his client actually did what they were accused of or not, so there wasn’t much to speak off the record about. 

He was looking at his glass of scotch as the governor spoke. A man with so much power and yet Anthony knew better than to try hit as if he wasn’t an average guy. People around here could get complexes pretty easily, he didn’t need Julian to think that he was geeking out.  He gave the other man a nod, "I guess so, though that’s not to say it’s a bad ‘do. Sometimes pictures don’t completely capture everything however,” He couldn’t tell if the governor thought the picture was good or bad. The last thing he wanted to do was insult the man. “At least they didn’t photoshop your hair gray. I think you look handsome in it, sir.” 

TATIANA.

Tatiana was one of the many people that missed the warm days, she was more of a spring person. Though after spending years in the dessert the New York summer heat wasn’t bad. She simply prefered the light cool breeze. She hummed softly as she nodded in understanding, “specially after months of limited exposure.” Snow was totally something she didn’t look forward to it wasn’t much because of the cold that she didn’t enjoy winter but mostly because of the snow. “Especially after that cold spell we just had. I’m just happy to see the snow ending.” She nodded as she hummed softly, “They do tend to be louder during the warmer days, specially when spring break is just around the corner for them.”

MERCY.

location: the cancun time: late at night.  open to anyone.

          ONLY a week into this new job and the brunette felt like she’d already been getting the swing of everything. Being able to match the drinks to the plenty of familiar faces that wandered through those doors throughout the night, putting on her best smile to win over those she’d been lucky enough to serve for the evening. Hoping theend of the night tips would show for it.

“ —And what are you havin’ tonight? ” she questioned over the loud music, those light eyes slowly giving the person that sat before her a slow once over,  “ Let me guess, you’re havin’.. whiskey? Somethin’ ‘bout you gives off dark liquor kinda vibes.” But even as the assumption came pouring from Mercy’s lips, she couldn’t help the grin that immediately spread across her features. One that should’ve made it fairly obvious that she was merely bullshitting. 

It was nice sometimes being a civilian and so called natural in the gang territorial wars. It gave him a swift advantage of entering into places without fear that he was going to be asked to leave or get shot or something, whatever those imbeciles did. 

As he approached the bar, Anthony had his eye on a certain liquor that was behind the bar. Highland Park Whisky. It was his favorite scotch that he ever had the pleasure of drinking.  He figured the glass would be expensive but he could afford it. And he wasn’t planning on drinking a whole lot tonight anyways. His thoughts were interrupted after he sat down. “Why do you assume that? Is it because I look broody? Some people might be offended by that, ma’am.” 

ANGELA KING. 

Starter for: @anthonyadamsesq​

Location: Off the Record

“You know, one day I’m gonna make you take me somewhere nice.” Angela’s words were clearly in jest as she watched Anthony slide into the booth across from her. The bar wasn’t anything to turn your nose up at, as bars went - and privacy was the most important part, which this place offered more of than most of its kind. The high-backed booth seemed to hide them from any prying eyes, which made it entirely perfect. It wasn’t that anything about being seen with him particularly bothered her, but it would certainly raise questions - something something conflict of interest or something to that effect.

“Maybe at least somewhere that serves real food,” she continued, leaning on one arm as she watched him getting comfortable. “Long day? That’s usually what you say when you call.”

"This is nice,” Maybe not as nice of a place as he’d like to take her out to. He could afford something a bit more fancy, but this was just easier. He knew there would be a somewhat private booth that the two of them could get away with. It wasn’t like this was a Romeo and Juliet story. They weren’t forbidden from seeing each other but it was a lot easier to keep things hush hush between him and the older woman. 

TATIANA.

Time: Noon Where: Central Park Who: Anyone

Tatiana looked at the order as she grinned lightly at the other. She was drained from work but that was never a good excuse for her to be completely rude or take it out on someone that wasn’t at cause for her exhaustion. “I swear it just gets a little warm outside and people don’t know how to act.” She said with a soft grin. “I had to deal with a lot more don’t do that, it’s technically not a crime but your pissing your neighbors off kind of thing than actual crime but then again it’s just noon.” She said with a soft shrug as she sipped her red bull.

DAHLIA.

𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧    /   faux folie 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞    /   evening 

             “   might  i  suggest  whatever  you  have  to  say ,  you  make  it  quick .  “   despite  the  implication  hiding  behind  each  syllable  dropping  from  painted  lips ,   the  woman’s  tone  is  light ,   soft .  falsely  docile .  many  masks  were  worn  by  the  femme ,   though  that  has  finger  prints  etched  into  its  corners  from  over  use .   head  tilts ,   slanting  to  intrigue  in  their  presence .   “  a  friend  of  mine  is  waiting  behind  curtain  number  three   ―  “  coyly  referring  to  the  lower  ,  bloodier  level  of  the  building .  never  would  she  participate  in  such  brawls ,  she’s  seen  enough  violence  in  her  young  span  than  ever  needed .   it  considered  sport  nauseating  her ,   but  still  she  would  stand  by  the  side  of  the  men  who  accompany  her  in  business  and  dealings .  a  black  widow ,   a  praying  mantis ,   she  is  more  a  fan  of  the  subtle  art  vengeance .  and  it  can  be  done  spotlessly .   “   ―  i’d  hate  to  keep  him  waiting .  “