fallen from grace

@solismortem

there was an uncomfortably quiet lull in the life of syrus han post handling the immediate results following the catastrophe of the docks. mending the damage had been far too easy—something he had grown wary of during his time being raised in the mob. well, having grown up in the mob and also having studied science. newton’s law stated that every action had an equal and opposite reaction, and at the moment, his reaction didn’t seem to be on par with the action itself. something else was bound to happen, something he wouldn’t like, something that would draw his level of participation upwards to be commensurate with that of the opposing syndicate.

for now, though, he rested in his corner of club nyra. in the white leather circular couch he always found himself in he could easily examine the entirety of the rectangular club. it was loud, per usual, but it the noise was welcome. it signified conviviality and money spent, both of which were highly prized to the businessman. he was determined to not vacate his seat for the night, giving himself a moment to rest, until he spotted a familiar face among the attendees, one that he had not spoken with for a while. thus, he stranded the various, semi-recognizable faces that accompanied him on the couch and were choked by uninteresting conversation and glided his way across the club floor to this person.

“kit,” he spoke strongly before slipping into the bar stool next to him, “can i offer you a drink, though i know you aren’t particularly fond of them? simply as a small ‘welcome back’ to the scene of club nyra, of course.”

Kit isn’t really a fan of clubs.  They're loud, and as fun as casual pick pocketing is, Kit doesn’t like to deal with the amount of drunk people who mistake his thievery for groping, and vice versa depending on his mood.  Nyra is the one exception, and it is that way not because of the atmosphere but because of the owner, Syrus Han.  Syrus had taken a particular interest in Kit when he had first begun doing odd jobs for Olympus when it was whole.  The striking man was clear, calm and collected, and generally everything Kit needed from a confidant and boss after his time on the streets.  

It had been a few months since he’d last been around, laying low after a scare with a camera he had missed in his overview of the place, but now here he was, back in Club Nyra and being approached by Syrus. 

Kit was known to trip and fall right into trouble.  He didn’t find it, it found him.  He was good at getting out of it too, so all was usually well.  But tonight was different.  Tonight, Kit was looking for trouble.  

He’s dressed up, he looks expensive because he figures that selling himself short helps absolutely no one.  It’s simple, a black shirt, rolled up to show his forearms but unbuttoned just enough to tease what is underneath.  His jeans are tailored to fit, and they show off his ass, which really, was the main reason he decided on them tonight.  His hands are freshly manicured, he hasn’t shaved so he’s got a nice sort of stubble going on that seems to be all the rage recently, he’s got everything he needs in his front pocket, and he’s ready to go.  

Once he arrives at Nyra, nodding to the bar tender who recognizes him, knows not to put anything strong in his drinks, Kit relaxes, finds a seat where he can watch, just until he finds someone he thinks looks willing to pay for a good time.  

The mob, as of right now, was absolute chaos.  Mob, singular, may not have been the right word, seeing as everyone from Zeus getting shot by a Titan, to a major drug deal, to Kit seemed to be affected.  Normally, Kit had his ear to the ground, quietly keeping track of what was going on, more for drama’s sake than anything else.  And he had been doing just that, when he ran into Marcus, someone he had only seen a  few times before.  What had interested Kit was that he saw not only Marcus, but a few other familiar faces at the docks that night, and the fact that Marcus was so intense about keeping him away.  

To the point of knocking him out cold, and then Kit waking up the next morning with a black eye and some too interested dock workers standing over him.  Dignity lost, and quite a bit bitter, when he sees Marcus again on this side of town, he can’t help himself as he marches across the street, arms crossed, and eyebrow over his less sore eye raised.  

“You wanna explain to me what the fuck I did to deserve this?” he asks the man in front of him, who looks like he just wants some pizza from the man on the corner who is staring at them, almost as confused as Kit.  

Bas doesn’t tolerate thieves. Maybe it’s because of the generalization that all foster kids are going to end up thieves and criminals (and he’s not going to be that hypocritical of himself), but maybe it’s just because they seem so low to him. Most of them are cowards, quick on their feet and never really doing anything worthwhile. There’s just something about the generally twitchy bastards that rubs him the wrong way. 

Bastien didn’t spend too much time in Tartarus. He remembered how much his second foster mother had loved places like this and it made his upper lip curl, but if he could find the bar it wasn’t too bad. The short man was used to being run into, but it was the sudden sensation of his pocket being just a little lighter that caught his attention. His head snapped up, and almost immediately his lips were pulling into a too-friendly smile and his fingers had wrapped around Kit’s wrist in a painful grip. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Kit feels like he can’t breathe the second that he feels the pressure around his wrist.  He hadn’t done anything, not yet at least, had planned on going the charming and distracting route today, see if he could make a little more than normal.  Sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn’t, and now is a great example of what happened if it didn’t.  

“Nothing, nothing, can’t a guy come to a bar?” Kit chokes out the excuse, the grip painful around his wrist but it might as well have been around his neck.  his eyes glance to where Bas’s wallet is sitting half out of his pocket, what had tempted him in the first place, but now he wouldn’t even dream of following through with.  

“Y-you come here often?” he tries with a forced grin.

“Oh sure—that’s what you say… but then there’s that—that undercurrent that sweeps people out,” she retorted with a sagacious nod. Patty lingered on the tangent of teasing Kit, but the voice of reason and authority didn’t suit her at all. Truly a mother, but only when she cooed and spoke softly. Patty decidedly dropped it as she shrugged off her cover and left it with the rest of their clothes.

“Hmm,” she paused for a moment, forcing herself to take in the view. Was it aweing or underwhelming? Patty, always enchanted, felt the former—“It’s so pretty, Kit. Especially with the sunset and all…”

“If you think it’s underwhelming I’d like to hear what kind of view could top this one,” she remarked, throwing a playful elbow into Kit.

Kit laughs, a genuine sound that rarely makes an appearance.  He decides she’s right, the view is rather awe inspiring, and he feels like it would truly be appreciated if they were a little closer to it.  

He grabs her elbow, pulling her closer and then taking her hand in order to take her a little further.  He feels at ease in a way completely different from the still slightly drunk Patty, but in a way that fills him with contentment.  

“Cmon, before I decide to find out if sea water will sober you up,” he teases, not stopping till the waves hit their thighs.  

“Me neither,” Freddie replied, taking a set next to him and leaning back. He scanned the party again, his arms crossed, before glancing back at Kit. “I don’t really go to anything very hoity toity like…ever. At least, not with an invite,” he added with a cheeky grin.

“Feeling’s mutual.” Kit isn’t too sure how to continue this conversation in a ay that isn’t totally obvious, but he figures this guy doesn’t catch on to much too quickly anyways.  

“So who’d you come with?  Assuming you’re a plus one, or an invite directly from one of the big guns.”

Real smooth there, Kit.  

things you said with clenched fists

“I don’t fucking know!” Kit yells into the otherwise empty warehouse.  Every time he runs into this man he can’t help the fear, the panic, and the indignation that rushes through his system all at the same time.  

things you said under your breath (nsfw)

✖ - a repressed memory -- tw sexual abuse/underage , drugs, nsfw.  

things you said after you kissed me

“I hope that was okay, I know it’s only our second date...” Kit trails off, and he’s caught up in how her eyes are still slightly closed, and her skin feels so soft under his touch.  She’s beautiful, and she looks so much less dangerous right now which is so different but such a good look on her.  He’s rushing this moment, and he knows maybe he shouldn’t but he can’t help but think that this is the beginning of something beautiful.  

things you said that I wasn’t meant to hear

Kit doesn’t gamble, and he doesn’t have a contract with anyone here so he really has no reason to be wandering into Tartarus like this.  He recognizes a few faces, and this pleases him in a self important kind of way.  The main room is loud, just like the gaming rooms and the bar, the whole place is loud in a way different from either of the other HQs are.  It doesn’t bother him, but it is distracting enough that he doesn’t notice who he bumps into, their wallet already in his hand.

“Oh, scuse me,” he says, rare panic filling his gut at the sight of Bas in front of him.