The Cajun Gator

"Ey, Boss. There somethin' goin' on in town I dunno about? The club's quieta' t'night." Nico stood in Roman's office, guarding him as always. He was alert at all times, even when it didn't seem like it. Since working for Roman, he'd pushed Roman out of the line of fire at least once, and caught someone trying to stab him. Even now, as he put Roman's favorite drink down on a coaster on Sionis's desk, he was fully alert. "Got any plans t'night?" Nico asked, wondering if most of his shift would be spent in the office, or elsewhere.

Nico Savoy had worked up a bit of a name for himself recently. He'd been doing part time work with Roman Sionis, and seen in the company of a few capos from the Falcone's. A minor celebrity for his status as a professional boxer, his name carried as many rumors as it did praise for his skills.

He decided to pay the Iceberg Lounge a visit. Albeit, possibly underdressed. The Cajun rogue strut inside, a hand tucked into his pocket while the other smoothed down the front of his emerald green vest. A red bandana was in place of a proper tie, and the sleeves of the white button up dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows to bare his muscled arms, giving Nico an overall casual aura. He was fiddling with a toothpick between his lips, pulling it out to flirt with a bartender and order some top shelf whiskey. He tipped well, and went looking for the real reason he came; to meet Oswald Cobblepot.