Augustus pulled up at Felix’s ridiculously expensive villa, in a ridiculously expensive car of his own. Namely, a Ferrari Spider. Between the wake and the time of his arrival, Augustus had the opportunity to make a mid-stop at his own villa to drop the blazer and tie and switch to all black — leaving him standing now with a dark dress-shirt halfway unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Dark pants, dark shoes, and the usual accessories. He brought a bottle of vintage Bordeaux  as if the alcohol from the wake wasn’t enough; however, it was more of a must-have thank-you-for-your-invitation gift to him than a suggestion to drink more once he greeted Felix at the doorway. 

Upon being welcomed inside, he took a moment to scan the interior, judging it in silence before coming to the conclusion that it was, in fact, a sight for sore eyes and the result of good taste. His hand trailed the contours of a counter he passed, fingers quietly drumming atop as they slid. A Souls’ lawyer in Titans’ underboss’s lair? Questionable. Good old friends catching up? Plausible. “This really makes me want to reconsider career paths. Do you think I’d last as an underboss?” he asked, his voice taking on the rough pleasure of the hunt when his gaze found Felix’s. That lurking, ruthless darkness of his was vivid without a smile to masquerade it. “They say charisma is the sharpest weapon of them all.”