Speakeasy

(just starting the thread off because I'm so excited, don't mind me)

Inside the bar, time and space has warped yet again. The whole placed is swathed in shadow and full of people standing, moving around, mixing within the red brick walls.

The atmosphere is electric, and yet hushed. Music with a furious, swinging rhythm and high pitches careens across the place, and people careen around to its beat, laughing and joking and twirling in short skirts that float up when they spin, and dapper looking suits.

Their clothing is weird, that much is for sure, but so are the furnishings in the place. The place is full of booths, rich red velvet with studs all over them. Some of the booths are circular and occupy entire corners of the twisted and strangely shaped space.

Some booths are like their own little rooms, with high backs to the plush, padded leather seats and heavy velvet curtains pulled open all around the table, able to be drawn shut at will.

A sort of fog hangs over the whole place- Shand inhales and identifies it as smoke, but more of the cigar variety than fire.

There is a stage near the back center of the establishment, sporting the brightest lights in the place, an ornate glass chandelier hangs over it and unoccupied microphone, the baby grand piano, and the other instruments that sit atop an old, worn Persian rug.

And then there's the bar. The place emanates a smooth, easy, suave class. A sight of true glory. It is a dark, rich wood through and through- and made of a huge hunk of it, at that. The bar stools rotate this way and that, all around, made of brassy looking pipe and rich red leather.

Behind the bar is the most ornate, garish looking mirror Shand has ever seen, with gold accents and ornament all along the edges. Shelves sit across this mirror, holding more alcohol than Shand's ever witnessed all in one place.

Some of the bottles are strange, lacking labels, in funny shapes, and containing liquid of colors so bright, they can't be safe for consumption.

Toward the end of the bar, at the back, is an impossibly showy, lush looking collecting of some type of feather that is taller than Shand is. The feathers are white, ridiculously fluffy, and fan out almost as wide as his arms are held out. The soft, thin fibers of the feathers tremble and sway with the sound of the music, so it looks like the whole display is bopping back and forth silently of its own free will.

Trita is there behind the bar, shaking a mixer behind her head and spinning, and tossing, and doing all kinds of crazy, outlandish things that patrons sitting at the bar are cheering at and calling her a doll for.

He is beyond confused. He can't remember where he is or why, and the shrill pitch of what sounds like a trumpet, along with the raucous cheers of the dancing crowd, aren't making it any better.

Then, he hears a beautiful, sweet sound trickling from the speakers when the trumpets subside. He looks up to the stage to see Luna leaning soulfully over the microphone, humming into it, and obviously preparing to sing.

"You just gonna stand there with your mouth open, or are you gonna make yourself scarce and put some eyes on the place, like you're here to do?" Dolan pokes him on the shoulder as he swings past, dressed in a close-fitting suit that looks like it was made just for him. His hair is slicked back weird, and Shand is a little stunned.

"What's going on?" He yells over the noise.

"You've been dipping into the absinthe again." Dolan makes a clicking noise with his tongue. "If you ever own this place one day, you'll understand how furious that makes me. Now get out of my sight. Literally."

At the risk of earning Dolan's ire, he moves against a wall and takes in the scene further, trying to find anyone else he recognizes.

"Dolan! You've got someone who wants you."

Trita calls, seeing him walk across the room on a mission, but one she doesn't mind interrupting, slamming the shaker down on the bar, some alcohol spraying on the patrons watching her just a little too closely, but they love it, laughing as they push on each other, wiping their faces. She's dressed more masculine than most of the girls wandering around the bar, but it doesn't mean her button-up shirt, classic vest, sheer black tights, suspenders clipping into a nice skirt hide any of her... Assets by any means. In fact, her outfit is tighter than most of the others. She's still dressed for the atmosphere, just more as a professional than a partier.

To show Dolan who she's speaking about, she fills a shot glass of the shaker's contents then slides the glass down the bar where a man at the end who looks like he just arrived catches it.

"She's about to sing! Come on!"

Lied tugs on Lancer's arm from where he stands near the door, guarding it, looking out over the crowd.

"I can't, doll. I've gotta watch the door."

With a pout, she crosses her arm and plops on a chair near him while he makes some promise about the next dance once someone switches with him, but it's hard to hear all the words as Luna begins to sing.

Her voice is smooth as she snaps her fingers to the beat of the band, swaying her hips with the rhythm, her dress flaring with the movements, flowing tassels and all. She's traded her hat for a band with several large ornate feathers, and a line of men nearest the stage seems to be all about her, like a fan club or something. All she gives them is brief eye contact, clearly more uncomfortable with gawkers than Trita, still she sings on.

As the beat picks up, a couple walks hand-in-hand towards the dance floor. Ploy takes position first and Eidolon happily follows, the two of them swinging like it's something they've done all their lives. The profession they were born to do. They easily weave in and out of the rest of the crowd, happily showing several other couples up. Again, over the music, Shand can't hear what they're saying from where he stands but he can see them joking and laughing like this is all completely normal.

Axel leans against the wall nearest Shand, head back and leg propped up against it, tapping his foot, blowing out puff after puff of smoke from the cigar he freely smokes. Hito stands next to him but he appears to be asleep on his feet, his cap covering his face, several stains on his white button-up, quite a few being various shades of lipstick prints.

"You hit your head or something, tiger?" Dakara slides up to him now, her long red hair smoothed into long, undulating curls and her lips smothered in bright red. She's wearing a dress that hangs directly down from her small frame, showing her arms and most of her legs. Her fingers twirl the long strings of pearls around her neck. From the end of one long strand hangs Shand's pearl.

"Uh, yeah, I️ certainly must've." He looks around again with curiosity. There's a felted table hidden in the utmost corner of the room, and Thrandr sits back in a rich brown leather chair, some kind of leather holster straps around each arm. There's a card game of some sort going on, and Aoife sits on the arm of Thrandr's chair, a cigarette in a long, black, skinny holder poised elegantly between her fingers.

Near that, there is a nondescript wooden door partially eclipsed by another heavy velvet curtain. Shand spies Kvanne standing guard by it, peering through a tiny barred window near the top of it here and there. He's in a a suit jacket, vest, and slacks made of all the same nearly black tweed material. He's got to be burning up.

"Where exactly are we, again?"

Dakara sighs and rolls her eyes. "The bar?"

"I'm gonna need more to go off than that."

She looks at him with concern through her heavily lined and lashed eyes. "The Blind Fox? The speakeasy?"

"The what now? What are you even talking about?"

Dakara rolls her eyes. "You dad's been saying you've been dipping extra into the giggle juice, but I️ didn't believe him until now. You sure can be a funny old bird sometimes."

"Yeah okay, sure." Shand shakes his head at her, as if he doesn't have enough to deal with without them all using some weird new language at him. "Where's Nameless? Have you seen him? I️ feel like I️ need to find him for some reason."

"Only VIP's usually ask for me, but I guess since you're on the books I'll spare a cent for ya."

A voice from behind Shand responds but the voice is too deep to be Nameless.

When Shand turns, he sees a man about an inch taller than even him with very familiar fluffy white hair and a dapper white suit, his jacket slung over his shoulder. He has red tattoos clearly visible on his exposed neck and forearms, happily chewing on a toothpick as he grins at Shand. His red eyes hold an air of overwhelming mischief.

Even though it seems impossible... This is Nameless.

No one seems thrown off by the albino man that basically glows in comparison to the scene, in fact, most people seem to walk by him like this is normal, some even stop to exchange a greeting with him.

"Gotta problem?"

"Hey, Nameless!"

Trita calls from the bar as she reaches behind her head to pin her hair up out of her way, multiple glasses and shakers in front of her, clearly prepping for a rather large trick, the patrons attempting to talk her up as she does.

He holds a finger up to ask her to wait, never turning from Shand. It's obvious he's enjoying Shand's confusion.

"You...you...." Shand's eyes narrow and his finger wags a little bit at Nameless, trying to remember something pressing at the very back of his eyelids. "You did something to me...weren't we just in the back room? There was something about... a dragon... a goddess?"

Dakara rolls her eyes Nameless's way now and mutters to him from behind her hand. "If he's not half-seas over, I️ don't know what his deal is."

Shand makes an enraged, high pitched rumble in his throat as Luna's soft, ambling voice starts to fill the place. He stares at her with his head slightly cocked like he's trying to remember a word on the tip of his tongue.

"Did I️ JUST tell you to go lookout for the bulls? What do I️ keep you around here for." Dolan sidles back past Shand, clearly busy but clearly not here for whatever nonsense he thinks his son is into.

"Nameless, please, zap us back or something, this is too much."

"Me? Do something to you? Never."

Nameless feigns innocence and his human face is... Surprisingly expressive, all things considered. He drapes his arm around Shand's shoulder, pulling him close, whispering.

"Hey, I'm helping you, okay? Look at how happy everyone is. Let them have this, yeah? Consider this me taking my babysitting role more seriously now."

As he leans back up, he forcefully claps Shand on the back with enough force to nearly push the poor man down, laughing as if they had just shared an inside joke to pass off the exchange as nothing serious.

"Alright, kid. I got things to do. Why not swing or pull up a chair, huh?"

A quick wave and he's gone, making his way towards the bar.

"Took ya long enough. Need to order more..."

Trita starts reading off a list to Nameless once he's close enough that the conversation stays between them, meaning Shand can no longer hear what's going on.

Luna keeps swaying even as he song changes, rolling right into the next one. The group of men at the front cheers as they recognize the beginning notes and she fights to keep her discomfort off her face, scanning the crowd, looking at everyone but the people staring quite a bit up at her.

This continues on, even without Shand doing his job and it's hard to tell, between Trita shouting orders and Dolan prowling the floor, who is actually running the place between them.

Dakara catches Shand watching Trita and Dolan and nudges him with a wicked grin.

"Isn't your dad just the happiest fella since they got together? Hate to think what this joint would be without 'em."

"Wait, they're a real thing? Like the two of them?"

But before Dakara can answer, a man near the front of the crowd reaches an arm up on the stage to touch Luna.

Hell no.

Shand doesn't even know what he's doing, but he strides over in one, long step and decks the man hard across the jaw.

To his surprise, a cheer goes up from the bar, and the family members stationed around the place.

"Well that's typically a Thrandr thing, but at least you're doing something." Dolan mutters to him on the way to the back from the bar.

Shand lift his arms up to Thrandr, across the room, and mouths, "what the hell?"

"Got a live wire!" Thrandr yells to his gambling companions instead of answering Shand. In fact, he ignores them altogether and Aoife leans into Thrandr's side quite obviously.

"They even neck out on the floor sometimes." Dakara adds when she sees Shand staring at them. "They're so stuck on each other it's not even funny."

Shand keeps staring across the room and notices a darkened booth across from the bar, where there is a solitary green-shaded lamp lit and a slender young man with his head down, nose in a book.

"Lunath?" Shand asks, squinting his eyes.

Lunath jumps up, pulls off a pair of round, wire eye glasses.

"God, Shand, you scared the snot out of me. I'm just trying to read, stop razzing me."

"Stop what-ing you?" Shand sighs, turning back to Nameless, who winks at him.

"When do you think we should tell him?" Dolan leans over the bar, obviously enjoying a rare down moment for the both of them. He takes her hand and kisses it.

"You're such a fool, I can see where he gets it from."

She allows him to kiss her hand to his liking, not opposed to the display of affection since it doesn't happen often while on the floor.

"Besides, you're assuming his broad hasn't already told him. Women know everything."

"Hey!"

A customer down at the end of the bar holds up his empty glass.

Releasing a sigh through her nose, she ignores the demand.

"You know, if we weren't surrounded by a bar of boozehounds right now, I'd say we could go check stock in the back room."

"What's it take to get another drink around here?"

"Yeah, breeze off."

Upset their moment is over, she leans over the bar, landing a quick kiss on his cheek then winking and booping his nose as a farewell to go take care of the loud patron, rather intentionally swinging her hips as she walks.

There's a lull in the music, switching to instrumental swing, allowing Luna to hop off stage. She pushes her way through the crowd over towards Shand, Dakara, and Lunath.

"Hey, thanks for handling that old bird. Thrandr is supposed to watch the stage, but we see how well that's going."

She laughs and there's a light layer of sweat on her forehead from the lights. There are two glasses of water on the table and she waves at Lunath with a small smile as she grabs one, taking a few sips before a band members calls her.

"Bluenose."

Mumbling, she excuses herself and heads back up stage again.

Dolan shoots her a promising and amorous look before she sets about her business. “There’s always after closing.”

Shand looks at Dakara again with a blank look. “What it is exactly I’m supposed to be doing, again?”

She releases a groan and waves him off with her hand. “Go get that nap you’ve been yabbering about all day. You clearly need it.”

“Yeah, okay.” Shand rubs the back of his head, retreating to the back room.

In the front, Lunath looks up from behind his glasses to wave back at Luna sheepishly. It takes him a second to realize that it’s their signal for him to join her on the stage. He nearly jumpsnout of the booth and slides over to the baby grand, where he perches on the bench after cracking his knuckles.

He’s never been a fan of Jazz much. It’s chock full of dissonance, and in a family like his, who needs more of that. But it’s good for business, and his dad is all about business.

“Just when I thought he was never gonna peep over those cheaters and put a dame in his sights .” Dolan is shaking his heat to Kvanne, standing by the secret door.

“Think he’s carrying a torch?”

“A torch? That kid’s dancing around a bonfire.” Dolan laughs over his shoulder after passing off Trita’s alcohol order.

He’s not going to say running the Blind Fox always comes easy. But something about it does often come pretty natural, especially with Trita calling shots and holding her own even against the most outlandish cake-eaters, of which their speakeasy serves many.

It also helped that Shand had such great connections with the moonshining world, and was so good at talking out both sides of his mouth to bull and bootlegger alike. Sometimes Dolan gets the feeling that Shand practices that skill on his dear old dad a lot, but it keeps the dough rolling in, so no complaints.

Kvnne grabs him by the back of the shoulder and pulls him back toward the secret door.

“We got a problem?” He asks quietly, and Kvanne nods.

“And how.”

Luna watches Lunath set up and she can see him get incredibly flustered when he notices her stares. It takes him a second to remember why she's watching and he nods. She's waiting for him to count her into the song, though she does have to stifle a laugh to keep it from being broadcasted by the mic, a softy rosy blush on her cheeks.

"No, that's not right."

Trita leans on the bar, arguing with the man across from her, his check laid out between them.

"You definitely had four shots, pal, plus a pack of butts, yeah? So this is your total."

"You tryna cheat me?"

It takes a lot for her to not roll her eyes at him, his arguing getting repetitive and annoying. During the debate, she does notice his eyes wander so she snaps in his face and points to her face.

"Hey, eyes up here, cat. Now just give me the cabbage and you can go."

As he begins to make a scene, Axel walks up behind him, tapping him on the shoulder. Just the presence of another person, especially a man as big as Axel, makes the man shut up, slamming the correct money on the bar before storming off elsewhere in the room.

Trita picks up a quarter and flicks it to Axel and he sticks it in his pocket immediately like it's a planned trick of theirs.

As she picks up the rest of the man's cash, her eyes sweep over the place, noticing Dolan and Kvanne. Seeing the nature of their expressions and what they're standing beside, she doesn't openly call out to them but she does arch her eyebrow questioningly at Dolan.

Dolan shakes his head at her. It's not good. They've had their close calls at the Blind Fox, but here lately, the streets have been crawling with cops- all of them real pills, if you ask Dolan.

But then again, what with his brother Aleric being one and all, he tries to keep those personal convictions to himself. Especially outside the joint.

Kvanne leans in and continues. "Juice is drying up out there. Don't know where Shand's mind has been lately, but he's not bringing the goods like he used to and it's starting to hurt us. We can't even fill half the stuff on this list. It'll take weeks."

Dolan sighs. They've been through periods where the liquors dried up here and there, you know supply and demand, but. It's been one of the only things to keep the Blind Fox the most hopping place in town.

"I️ know, I️ know. He's been lit up like the commonwealth almost every day this week. I'll have a talk with him and see what's going on. in the meantime, I️ need Aoife to keep her ear to the ground and start getting the word out to all the fancy eggs. We get a few more high rollers in here, we'll hold out."

Dolan slides away from Kvanne. Business is always booming, but the prospect of losing a huge portion of their main source of income is devastating. Dolan knows it's not all Shand's fault. He's had folks breathing hot and heavy down his neck from all sides lately, and he's normally so good with the pressure. But something has to be done, nonetheless.

Lunath starts plunking away on the baby grand in a style that irritates his ears, but he keeps on mainly because the way Luna sings to it, doesn't. He loves to watch her up there swaying and singing and getting lost in it so much that he hardly looks at his hands when he plays anymore.

Nobody notices mistakes when its jazz, anyway.

Sometimes she wishes Dolan would talk more about the business side of the speakeasy with her. Trita watches him run to and fro as she entertains the bar, keeping the people full, happy, and drunk, and she knows quite a bit of business from having worked at a few other speakeasies before meeting Dolan and coming to the Blind Fox, but he refuses to give her too much detail like his very and overly conscious about it.

All she can do is sigh. It's a topic she'll broach during one of their walks to the back room, even though they've had this conversation before.

In frustration, she picks up a rag and begins to dry some glasses, making sure to keep an eye on everyone's drinks, making sure no one has a chance to notice they're on empty. She tells quite a few eager men to dangle, giving them drinks then pointing them to go sit in a booth across the room. She is, however, unaware of the dark fella sitting at a table not too far away, but far enough away she isn't focused on him, watching her as she goes about her business.

Every now and then, Luna does catch Lunath watching her and it makes her blush grow but she continues on with the show despite her heart beating faster. She will admit that he is rather keen... Admit to no one other than herself, of course.

Nameless passes by Dolan, slipping a note in his pocket wordlessly, not even stopping to do so, continuing like a professional pass-off. The notes just simply reads, "Look-out."

It doesn’t take Shand long to come back from his rest in the back, and when he does, there’s a spring in his step.

When he steps out on the floor, the first thing he does is wink at Nameless, tipping an imaginary hat his way: he’s decided to play nice.

He’s wearing an impeccably tailored steel gray button-up, dark and well fitting slacks, a dark purple bow tie and braces. There’s an over confident air about him, standing in the middle of the floor, smacking his gum, surveying the place like it belongs to him, that naturally attracts people. It’s no wonder they call him the charmer.

It’s not like the Blind Fox doesn’t have its traditional thugs. The ones that’ll sooner knock you sideways than look at you if you’re acting wet or sappy. Birds like Thrandr, Axel, even Kvanne on a higher level.

But then you have your boys like Shand, the thugs that would sooner use charm and intelligence to cripple you than brute strength. Shand has done it many times before too-put other competition out of business after digging up some good dirt or working a bribe or a long con.

So the Blind Fox really does have its bases covered, at least, in some ways.

Dolan scams Nameless’ note and then his head jerks up to survey his establishment. Shand’s back, standing in the middle of the floor, wide stance and shoulders thrown back, hands in pockets like he’s itching to steal the place from under Dolan. Well, he’s got bigger problems currently.

Dolan juts his chin at a suspicious patron he hasn’t seen in the Fox before, taking up a whole corner booth all by himself, sipping slowly and aimlessly on something with far too much condensation on it.

Nameless walks over to shand, leaning an arm on his shoulder, this clearly being his human body's version of riding Shand's shoulder like he does as a fox.

"Well, well, look who decided to show up. Finally realize it's not that bad, huh?"

He snickers, slipping a pen into his pants pocket.

It's not like Trita doesn't notice the staring from the corner booth, but he hasn't done anything to warrant action other than creep her out, but men at the bar do that on a daily.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she sees him stand and walk to the bar, trying just a little too hard to act like he belongs, taking a seat at the bar itself, leaving his drink behind. He lifts his hand to order another one.

Definitely weird. Who wastes good alcohol these days? Still, she walks over to him with all the customer service grace in the world.

"What can I getcha?"

He keeps his hat over his eyes but there's something vaguely familiar about his build and posture. She's seen him before, but where?

"Gin and tonic, two lime wedges."

His voice is extremely familiar. She mumbles then goes to fix the drink, trying to place the man but coming up blank and she still doesn't have an answer by the time she walks back over to him.

"Here ya go-"

"Not your first speakeasy gig, huh?"

Red eyes narrow at the question and her ears perk at the question. Does he recognize her from a different establishment? She doesn't have to respond to the question and she doesn't plan to, but, when he looks at her, her heart stops fast. She knows those gold eyes and black hair, stupid lopsided smirk.

"Kynton."

She hisses, keeping her voice down to not draw attention.

"What the ever loving hell do you think you're doing here?"

"Am I not allowed to have a good time?"

Her voice transitions to a dangerous, low, threatening whisper, locking her narrowed eyes on his.

"Not if you're the fuzz."

Shand is at home in the middle of the dance floor, standing stock still, with Nameless over his shoulder.

The two are a sight to see, covered with their tattoos and mischievous demeanors- perfectly terrifying gentlemen.

"Well, I've certainly got no beef with these pants. Pretty nifty, huh?" Shand flashes a charming grin that says he really doesn't need an answer.

He catches Dakara's eyes as she glides past with a tray of drinks held above her head, a box of cigars pressed to her hip. She looks him up and down, bites her bottom lip, and gives her shoulders a little shake to the swing rhythm.

"Legs." As she moves past and brushes purposefully against him, she addresses him briefly and sends a grin of her own.

“Lips,” he replies with a wink.

The Blind Fox is the best kept secret, the place to be for anyone who's anyone. As such, it tends to inspire a lot of gossip. Really, its proprietors are something like legend in this town. How the family and their companions turned adopted family came to run the night scene, and subsequently most of the under the radar operations of the city. The stories all ooze charm and sex and liquor and money and most of them are somewhat, only half true.

Take Dakara, for instance. Word on the street is that Dolan's son plucked her straight out of one of those circus side shows, with her headful of thick red ringlets, her rich and creamy and exotic skin, the ink all over any of it that's exposed and probably some that isn't.

The truth is that Shand met Dakara on accident late one night when she'd been performing at a hole in the wall burlesque club he had no business at- competitors, really. But the two had gotten hopelessly stuck on each other, and he'd poached her and all of a sudden the ladies' man had settled himself down a bit.

She dances around freely to the music now as she slides glasses onto tables, leans over to light cigars seductively. She'll tell you in a heartbeat, this place suits her much better.

Dolan had brought Trita in on the ground floor for similar reasons but under different circumstances. He'd carried a torch for her for the longest time, even as kids. But it was her ability to hold her own and absolutely command the place that had really done it in for him. She'd left another lucrative position after lots of begging on Dolan's end and things had turned serious between them. They thrived off the pressure and the pace now and more or less ran the place together, king and queen of the underground.

Trita had pulled a lot of her close and trusted friends into the joint with her, and it had become a family affair. Were they the royalty of the night- the shot callers of the bootleg scene and the darn best place for dancing in town? Maybe. But only to people who had the password, or dreamed of having it someday.

Dolan's ears are sharp and they prick up from across the room at Trita's conversation with this shady looking patron. She can always take care of herself, but this kind of talk he doesn't like anywhere near his place. Or looking like that at his girl.

"Hate to tell you, pal, but this bearcat's spoken for. You better go prowling somewhere else." Dolan puts his hand on the man's shoulder with a seldom-used possessive gleam in his eye that alerts Trita that there may be some soon upcoming he-man display she'll have to clean up after.

Shand watches the scene at the bar, eyes darting from that, to Lunath on stage pretending not to stare at Luna, to Thrandr playing craps and Aoife shamelessly petting him, to Kvanne standing guard at the secret door- and of course Shand knows how many pieces each member sports and where they're carried. He should know, he practically orchestrated it all.

"Time for a rum and coke?" He mutters over at Nameless, eyes falling back on Trita and Dolan and the heel at the bar. "Hold the coke, of course."

Nameless sighs with a grimace at the suggestion and it's suddenly very obvious for the briefest of seconds that, in a lot of regards, he still is a child.

"Disgusting. I think I'll get the coke in mine, yeah?"

His eyes flick back to the bar with a gleam. He clearly knows what's going on, with all of it. The speakeasy, the character backgrounds... It's called the Blind Fox for a reason. It's all of his creation. He set everything in motion and is now more than pleased to let go of the reigns and watch how this world plays out.

"Oh, so you found yourself a mac, huh? Didn't think you had it in you."

The main seems less than friendly but he's obviously quite familiar with Trita and, by the way he sits and mocks her in front of Dolan, he isn't threatened by the man's presence.

Her eyes snap up to Dolan, giving the ever so slightest shake of her head to warn him to back off... For now. No telling where this could potentially be going.

"What brings a copper into a speakeasy other than trouble?"

The man, Kynton, shrugs, playing more with the glass in front of him than actually seeming interested in drinking it. Even though her voice is low, she wishes someone would turn the speakers up so Luna's voice could drown out their conversation from everyone but the three right there in that spot.

Things get bad enough, she could get Ploy to hypnotize everyone with some illusion, distract them from whatever is going on but the woman appears to wrapped up in her dance with Eidolon to notice the group at the bar.

"I came to see you, of course. I make sure to keep tabs on old fiances, but especially the one that turned out to be a punk in the underground. How did you manage to stay out of the law's peepers?"

"I don't have to sing to you."

Trita taps her finger impatiently on the bar, happily keeping the tense staredown up with the cocky, rude man.

"'Pose that's true. Well, I actually have something for you. Get a slant at this when you're not busy getting smoked or necking with this sap."

He shoves a small square box her way as he stands from his chair, straightening his jacket. Gold eyes scan Dolan up at down, trying to figure something out, something he can't quite place from seeing Dolan's mug in passing.

"Go figure it takes flowing alcohol and crime for a little rabbit to find herself a sheik. I'd keep feeding him the good stuff if you wanna keep bein' his squeeze."

Over his investigation of Dolan, he easily makes his way in the crowd, getting lost then exiting the room before anyone can do anything.

With almost too little deliberation, Trita snatches the box and opens the little blue lid. Metal rattles with the movement and there are surprise and confusion on her face that are quickly replaced with dread. With a slip of her hand, the box is in a pocket on her apron, not wanting to bring up the contents here.

Luna and Lunath continue like nothing has happened over at the bar, thankfully keeping the crowd easily distracted.

Dolan stares after the man for a good long while after he's gone. It's not long before Shand is there with the two, leaning over on the bar with an easy grin on his face that would make anyone think he was completely oblivious. Well, anyone but these two.

"You want eyes on the old boy, or what?" Shand asks Dolan, eyes still glittering with that smile.

Dolan sure has missed having his son around here. Not that he'll ever tell him that. Taking a moment to judge Trita's reaction, Dolan shakes his head, although his eyes are still on Trita.

"Everything's Jake. Just a little off time jive."

Shand sighs restlessly. "I️ gotta get back out there sometime, Pops. I'm good for more than our sweet little beat sessions, and you know it. Although I️ do treasure them dearly in my heart."

Dolan claps him on the back in a final, dismissing manner. "Be patient. I️ don't need you landing yourself back in stir, not on my account, anyway."

Shand huffs and settles into one of the bar stools a bit forlornly. Trita slides him a rum, neat, without him even having to ask.

"You," Shand points at her. "Are a peach."

Dolan continues to watch Trita as she busies herself behind the bar. There's something she's not telling him for sure.

At the craps table, Thrandr holds the dice up for Aoife to blow on. He sees Shand throwing back rum at the bar and holds his stare until Shand's caught his eye.

A wordless conversation goes on there, with Thrandr nodding, passing his seat off to Aoife- who continues on like she's just at home without him- and slipping out the secret door with Kvanne's approval.

As the music fades and the piano transitions out for some instrumental music, Lunath starts to move from his stool, his booth and his book in his sights.

But Luna starts toward him, swaying in a graceful walk like she's still crooning in the microphone to the swing rhythm.

Shand's dumb little comment and stupid happiness when she handed him a drink does bring a smile to Trita's face but it's short-lived the longer she takes not of Dolan watching her rather expectantly.

All she wants is to tell him, to explain the situation and show him what's in the box Kynton handed off, but she can't. Not right now. There are too many people around, she needs to tell him alone, and their alone time seems to be the last thing on people's mind as they belly-up to the bar demanding next rounds.

"Well talk, yeah?"

All she can do is spare a glance at him with an apologetic smile. She's not sure if the bead of sweat dripping down her face is from the temperature at the bar or because she's been shaken with sudden panic that she's having to suppress to save face. Honestly, she almost wishes that he would just close the entire place down, but that would be bad business and, regardless of how popular their establishment is, they need the business. She's not stupid enough to let her own fear and emotions to get in the way of what's best for the Blind fox and everything Dolan has built it to be.

On the opposite side of everything, things are much more light-hearted. Luna spots Lunath slipping away to his booth but the last thing she wants is for him to get away before they can discuss their performance.

As he's sitting down, reaching for his book like it's his lifeline, she leans on the table with a warm smile, looking down at him, trying to take note of the book clutched tightly in his hands.

"Hey, wise-head! Have time to chin?"

She teases him but waits patiently for his answer. He could absolutely tell her he just wants to sit around and look spiffy. It would hurt a little, but she'd understand. When she's done performing, most times, she just wants some space. She gets it.

"Why don't I️ have someone else take over and we go ahead on that little trip to the back room." Dolan says it with a mischievous, lopsided smile playing at his lips, but his eyes are much more serious than romantic.

Shand takes that as his cue and he slides down off the barstool, leaving the empty glass behind without so much as a drop of condensation on the bar.

He moves through the speakeasy like he's a jaguar and it's his jungle. He nods his head in a chummy way to most of the patrons gathered in booths, to a lot of the dames on the dance floor, and really mostly everyone that looks at him.

A few people actually stop him, tell him how glad they are that he finally beat that rap and he's this side of the can again. He just smiles and shrugs and snaps his gum and does all the things that makes people feel listened to and leaves them thinking what a stand-up guy he is.

But in reality, he hates when people bring up prison to him. It wasn't easy going in such a young fish, despite coming out better at this than he'd ever been. He's used it to his advantage, just like everything else in life. To his father's advantage, too. But he seldom talks about it.

He finally makes his way across the dance floor and to the other side of the speakeasy, typically where it's more quiet and the shadows fall the longest, where the curtained-off booths are for a reason. He slides into one, and juts his chin up in the air at Eidolon and Ploy, who are still swinging away like they've got no cares in the world.

He pulls the curtains closed and waits for them.

Lunath swallows hard and pushes his glasses on top of his head, blinking a few times as his vision adjusts.

"Uh, you know me. I'm always good to punch the bag."

He closes his book but doesn't put it down, like he needs it as a security blanket. He's sure she just wants to go over rocky places in the performance for next time, but he can barely think straight around her, and he's sure she can tell how goofy he is for her whenever she looks at him.

"Who, exactly, do you plan on taking over the bar while I'm gone? I know you don't mean Axel? Aren't you the one that caught him drinking the stock while on clock? I nearly sent him to the caboose myself."

Trita returns the flirtatious smirk easily. They've been doing this since they were kids, it's not hard to speak a little too casually in public, and the thought of going to the backroom does nearly get a laugh from here as she remembers the time Kvanne had caught them necking in the back. She had never seen his face so red, both from embarrassment and rage. Probably a top ten favorite memory.

But her eyes do hold a secret message, just like his, a begging for him to do exactly that. To make someone else cover the bar for a few minutes while she explains the situation. He deserves at least that much.

Eidolon clicks his teeth when he spots Shand watching them then ducking into a private booth, enjoying the dance far more than he's going to enjoy whatever is about to happen in there, that's for sure.

"Oh, looks like I'll be having two men tonight, huh? My lucky day."

Ploy's casual demeanor and low, seductive tone easily dispel any suspicion those around them may have from seeing the exchange.

"I don't think I'd like him to be our third but beggars can't be choosers."

A wink and a nod then the two are off, slipping into the booth, taking their seats across from Shand, both eyeing him with slight annoyance but there's an air of excitement. They know this means there's a mission on the table.

"Oh good!"

Lunath's adorable nature invites her to slide in right beside him, taking up her glass of water from before, having to tell herself not to chug it all at once.

"We really gave them something to swing to, didn't we? You hear how they cheered? You sure do tickle those keys."

A few strands of her plum hair fall from being pinned up in the fake bob as she faces him with a sweet smile, but they don't bother her, she'll just fix it before she goes back up on stage.

"Let Axel hit the hooch to his heart's content. He wouldn't be the only one. Besides, we've got a lot to discuss." Dolan bobs his head back and forth flirtatiously to lighten the mood, thanking his lucky starts that if there's anything this family is good at, it's reading between the lines.

Dolan waves him over and throws a handtowel square in the middle of his chest. "Mind the belligerent ones. They're used to a baby vamp behind bar with much sweeter gams than you've got on you."

With a smirk to Axel, Dolan puts his hand over the small of Trita's back and follows her toward the back room, scanning the floor one more time before they disappear.

"What a gay old time, huh?" Shand sits on one side of the booth, a small crystal chandelier hanging over them.

"You two dew-droppers got a free night on your hands, or you tired out from all that flailing around? Cause I️ got a couple things going. But Pops has really put me behind the eight ball, and I️ could use a few feet on the ground. Eyes and ears, you know the drill."

Lunath has to remind himself to breathe, especially after getting a compliment from a choice bit of calico like Luna.

"Uh, well, they really come to hear you. Ivory alone for swinging..." Lunath doesn't finish his statement but grimaces in place of the words.

"Classical stuff is really the cat's pajamas. If Dolan would let me play that stuff, you wouldn't be able to pull me down off that stage."

Lunath blushes a little bit, knowing that he either holds his tongue and like nobody's home, or spews a bunch of dumb hooey and and comes off like a wet blanket around her.

He's clearly flustered, and he looks down at his hands, worrying at his book, and his glasses fall off his head and catch at his chin.

"I think some of the sheba's here would beg to differ."

Axel, begrudgingly, begins to wipe the bar down.

Trita pays him little mind, winding through the crowd with so much grace and direction that it looks like an elegant dance. As Dolan scans, she unlocks the door, snagging his collar in her hand when she makes her way in. Of course, she doesn't allow the sexual tension to go to waste. How could she? A quick close of the door with her foot and her lips are quickly on his. She's wanted to do this all night but they both run the joint tirelessly so most fun has to kept to off-hours.

Lingering in the kiss, her hands slide down the sides of his neck but stop at his tie, straightening it then pushing away from him like a tease. But there's a reason: They came back here with a serious topic on the table, not to discard their rags.

A large barrel serves as a good seat which she gladly takes her place on with a sigh, taking the pin out of her hair to let the white locks fall during the quick break.

"Well, I've personally had better days. Didn't expect an old fling to show up here."

Ploy leans forward on the table, eyeing Shand to get a good reading.

"You smoked? Had some good reefers?"

Her eyes begin to glow, very close to casting some sort of illusion for him but she stops herself short, seeing that he isn't intoxicated in any way, which definitely takes the fun out of it.

"Your old man hasn't given us a job in weeks cuz of all the rappers lately. What's changed now?"

Eidolon leans back, resting his arm on the back of the booth which Ploy happily leans back into.

"You never told me you played classical!"

Luna's eyes light up as if he had just given her the greatest gift but it quickly fades into a laughing fit where all she can do is point at his fallen glasses. It takes a second, about as long as it does for him to reposition his spectacles, but she calms down.

"Shand told me all the great famous singers sing on the opera stage, but they're all classically trained. Don't really have that upbringing myself so those bluenosers won't even let me in the dumb opera building to dream."

She sighs, slumping her shoulders but then quickly remembers they weren't talking about her.

"You could go play with the great canaries though! You've got a skill."

Dolan groans a little in frustration as she pulls away from him, but he's still smiling when she sits herself down. He adjusts his stance slightly, thumbing at his bottom lip to remove a bit of her lipstick. Then he folds his arms.

"What's this about an old fling? He seems more than that. Whose payroll is he on?" Dolan asks earnestly, trying to push down his jealousy. Besides, this dish isn't one to be owned by any man, and that's one of the things he loves most about her.

Shand laughs a little bit and lets it hang in the air. Its one of those intentional, slow laughs that is more chilling than funny- something calculated and controlled about it.

"This jobs not from my old man. He's too wrapped up in that looker and running this old drum. No. This one's for me. Either one of you see that big six hanging over Trita just now? I️ need him followed, no questions asked. Come back, we'll bump guns over it, I'll ultimately want you to clam him up. So you might as well just give him the business right off."

Shand throws both arms over the backs of the booth seat like he's pretty pleased with himself, which he always is. Between sending Eidolon and Ploy out after that troublemaker and sending Thrandr on his more delicate mission, he's starting to feel right at home again.

"You like opera?" Lunath asks, startled and ignoring her last comment. It's not that she doesn't look like the type of Jane who would enjoy that sort of thing. She has an elegance, a timeless class that goes beyond all the wild flapper trends that she tries and, inevitably, still look good on her.

"I️ think Dolan went once, when he was out of the country during..." Lunath trails off, because they don't talk about that in the family. "Well, he said it was swell. It was all in another language so he didn't understand it, but. That's how all the eggs live, I️ guess."

"Name's Kynton. Runs with the buttons but I wouldn't be surprised if he's working with another group too. He plays dirty and has no loyalties."

The last statement rolls off her tongue with all the venom she can manage.

"I'm sure you'd remember him if you thought back hard enough. We were affianced back when I was a teen. He's the guy that took me to that dance you asked me to just a tad too late."

She teases him to try to keep the mood light but she's obviously bothered by the man showing his face around their speakeasy. Her finger taps the space on the barrel next to her to signal him to sit down.

"Jerk cut the ties quick when a new chick came prancing by in the right light, took all the bucks I had and left me on the street. Would've found my way to a whorehouse if I didn't learn about some local speakeasy. I believe that's the one you and I met back up at."

It's obvious she's putting off the box and rest of the story for as long as she can, Dolan knows most of this, she doesn't need to repeat it.

"Oh, you mean Kynton."

Ploy taps her finger, eyes closed, mulling something over, having heard the tense discussion despite appearing to be too absorbed with dancing.

"Well, we'll see what we can do about, won't we?"

A grin stretches across Eidolon's face and his shadow flickers like a flame. Keeping these two bottled in the speakeasy too long seems to have made them itching for a fight and it would probably benefit Shand and everyone else to not keep them caged like birds.

"I love opera! There was a singer at the house I used to work at, she owned me. Real looker, sung like an angel, but didn't really pay to much mind to teach me anything other than how to win a sap's favor. Of course, if you're born in a house, no one is ever going to look at you like you're anything other than dirt, so I guess that's the real reason the opera won't let me visit."

Luna kicks her legs against the booth, staring down long and hard at her drink, upset she told him that much when in reality she didn't really tell him much at all.

"Anyways, if you ever go to an opera, you should take notes on how they sing and bring them back so I can practice!"

It's a sudden change in tone but she feels like it's necessary. She didn't want to drag him from his book just to listen to her mope.