#*tbr

“Thank god I got out of their talons,” Jack said, more to his fifth—sixth? glass of champagne than to anyone else at the bar, gesturing the the group of investors behind him, various Wall Street assholes. “They start to leave marks.” This was really all there was left for him to do. The first evening, out of several, for his reintroduction and resurrection to the society he hadn’t quite been cast out of had been quiet, and now, the only thing that mattered was the Brut his mysterious hosts had provided the party with.