#apollo 01

@apvlllo​

Less than ideal, when things turn out this way, Apollo swanning into the hall in a cloud of awe, conversations stumbling in his wake. Even among the wealthy, the powerful, you get responses like this sometimes, when it comes to the celebs– maybe because most of the bastards have less artistic ability in their whole bodies than Artemis has in her tiniest ear bones. Maybe because they aren’t used to being around beautiful people they aren’t paying for their attention. Either way, the result is the same: Apollo walks in, and the whispers travel through the crowd like skipping stones.

Whatever it is it’s not what Zeus needs, necessarily, at this moment, caught between two conversations as it is, plucking and playing at the subtext like a harp. Someone isn’t doing their job (Prometheus, probably) because this damn monorail bigwig has been hanging off him for the better part of half an hour, ignoring every polite attempt to brush him off. The Rheas haven’t needed extra influence in the monorail sector since the early days of his reign; the travel industry was one of the first to buy into the Nemean promise of greatness, particularly after they’d bought out half the industry’s magnesium mining debts. Yet the man has him trapped here, treading water, and all while the real object of Zeus’ interest looks to be fading into boredom in the corner, their eyes gone glassy like the walking dead. 

What he needs is to shake the magnate off, and get back to the work that actually matters. What he gets instead is a surprise Apollo appearance; a scene.

“Son! What a pleasant surprise.” Zeus claps a hand on the back of Apollo’s head, then his shoulder. Spares a glance to his target in the corner, who has incrementally perked up, but still looks unimpressed. Directs his next thought back to the damn magnate again. “We don’t see him around Nemean Hall often, not for these sorts of events. To be honest, I didn’t even knew he knew the way in.”

A new truce. Samir couldn't help but wonder how long this one would last. War, obviously, tended to thrive in conflict by definition. For the most part, he couldn't argue that the gangs in conflict was a bad thing. Even if he selfishly wanted to be able to freely meet with those he'd developed relationships with in other factions. The government intelligence side of him was happy to watch the four gangs destroy each other. Which also meant civilian casualties more than likely and possibly losing those he has grown to care about. That sparked the pit of conflict that twisted a knot in his stomach. The desire to keep the relationships he built, something he didn't have in his other life. More than anything, in War, it was the feeling of being needed, seen, and the hint of a promise to move up. All of which he wasnt feeling in his other position. Government was a thankless industry.

He positioned himself at the side of the room, shadowed in the dim light. Only emerged, finally, to get champagne from the bar. Something to help loosen his regular silent lips and rigid posture. "Nice mask." He started the attempt to mingle with the rather tall person near him. One he didn't recognize by sight, especially with the mask. Nor did he know their affiliation. Events like that one were good opportunities to gather information, however. For both War and M15. "Is it just me or does it feel a bit strange having us all in one room when we were at each other's throats less than a month ago?" If Samir was the more extroverted, boisterous type he'd consider starting a betting pool on how long it would all last. Bonus for who would be the one to break it and if Death was actually going to hold up their end of the agreement. But the thought of talking to that many people or how to even start that conversation made him want to throw up. He reached for his glass of champagne and took a sip from the glass. “I wonder how long it will last. Suppose we should all cheers while we still can.” Sam tilted his glass forward as an offer to do just that.

Where: The Sandwich Shop

During a break in calls, Mack and the rest of the truck she rode on at the Fire station took a quick detour to pick up some lunch for the house. As they all hopped out of the truck, Mack saw a familiar face walk into the shop. As a firefighter, she had been on a number of calls involving so many different types of people. That unfortunately sometimes involved being called to the addiction center to help out. But on the plus side, it meant Mack getting to know the staff. Seeing one of the counselors from the center had just walked, Mack sped up and tapped on the shoulder, "Apollo right? Hi I think we've met a few times back at the center."