Speakeasy

"Ah. That billboard." Dolan huffs as he leans against the barrel but doesn't sit all the way. He's facing her still, and rests his hand gently on her knee as she speaks. He can't be too miffed. In a lot of ways, he owes this crasher. If not for him, who knows if he and Trita would have found their way back to each other.

"You think he's a threat here? You seemed a little too shaken up for that tidy little explanation to be it. I️ know a line when I'm fed one." He makes intense eye contact with her, the kind that usually gets him what he asks for.

"We better." Shand props his elbows on the table, pulling a pack of ciggys from his pocket and lighting up, dabbing it in the ash tray. Truth be told, he's been going a little stir-crazy himself, confined to little more than glorified guard duty within the walls of the Fox.

He was used to much more before he went inside. Hell, he practically got this family off the ground and was really the one who started diversifying all their interests. And now that he's back out, well, he's got itches that he has no way to scratch, in more ways than one.

He wants out, too. And he's a little jealous of Eidolon and Ploy for coming and going as they please mostly, but he also knows it could have just as easily been one of them caught holding the bag. So for now, he'll lay low like his dad wants. Well, sort of.

"Hey, you wanna hear something ducky?" Lunath leans in ever so slightly, emboldened a little bit at finding out they have this in common. "I️'ve heard the opera rolls into town here sometimes, a weekend or two a year. I️ bet I️ could figure out when. The town hall's only a dimbox jaunt from here. I️ mean, it's not a swanky opera house like across the drink, but."

He wonders if he's gone too far, realizing that he's just accidentally asked her out on the town. For a date. And he doesn't really mind it, but the suspense kills.

Trita stares at him long and hard, no exaggeration to say she gets lost in his eyes. When she realizes what's happening, she pushes his face away from hers, stifling a laugh, trying to not give him the satisfaction.

"Quit given me the eyes, I was going to spill anyways."

The box easily slips from her apron and she holds it out to him, almost like a gift, but her eyes say it's anything but.

"A nice set of bracelets."

In the box, resting on a velvet pillow, are handcuffs with her full name clearly engraved in the overly polished metal.

"Can't tell if he means to show me a good time or not, but I'm pretty sure it's just a jailtime calling card, no need to get jealous."

She attempts to keep the mood light with the joke but it's difficult. If he's got his sights set on her for investigation, she could be well on her way to the big house.

It could be a big hit to the Blind Fox if that's true. She has just as much say running the speakeasy operation as Dolan and she's the only consistent bartender.

"If I can't avoid it, I'd at least like to help you figure out the books before I go."

Eidolon and Ploy stand in unison, very used to these private meetings so their pattern has kind of established itself.

"We'll keep you informed, look for our pigeon."

Ploy winks with a flick of her hair, striding out of the booth, clearly happy to have purpose again as Eidolon follows in tow as he usually does, not offering Shand any further words so he can keep up with her.

"Really?"

Luna's heart skips a few... Several beats at the invitation and she's, again, mad at herself for not being able to hide her excitement.

"Don't you have to still dress up for those things? I don't have a dress. It's definitely not cocktail style."

She motions to her flapper dressed and fo-bob with a small pout, but the idea of a day on the town with Lunath, especially to some sort of opera performance, is a little more than appealing.

“Stop, stop.” Dolan leans back, shaking his head. She’s caught him completely off guard.

“So he’s a scumbag, but he’s the one who gave you the icy mitt. Why’s he have it out for you? He could just as easily send any of us away.”

It’s no secret that it had broken Dolan’s heart thirteen ways from Sunday when they’d pinched Shand. He doesn’t think he can survive seeing another loved one hauled away, and of all people, Trita. He’d misplace his own head if it wasn’t for her.

“We’ll figure this out. Leave the books be.” Dolan commands, hisn protectiveness coming out. He knows it can make him sound gruff sometimes when it comes down to situations like this, which unfortunately in this line of work is a regular deal. He tries to lighten the mood while he can.

He leans back in toward her, close to her, nodding down at the handcuffs before running his thumb gently along her jawline. “In the meantime, how about you and me put these to good use?”

Lunath can’t believe his good luck. She seems excited, and he’s over the moon that he might actually be able to pull this off, show her a good time. If he can get out of the place without a fire extinguisher strapped to him, that is.

“Well...” he muses, scratching his head and nearly knocking his glasses down again.

“We’ve got a bunch of dresses like that in the closet, Dolan bought ‘em for Trita but she hates getting dudded up more than she has to. Bet we could find you one you like.”

Shand puffs away alone for a bit, pausing to blow smoke rings to entertain himself, watching out the booth’s open curtains. He feels like a wild animal that’s been caged too long, just wants to blow off some steam.

Dakara is ambling around the floor, executing full spins, tray in hand, every time the saxophone gives her chills.

And if Shand knows Dakara, the saxophone is never not giving her chills. He’d been a mess when he met her, naturally, and he’s a bit of a mess still now. But she’d been like a savior to him. His first real bit of magic.

He’d barely expected her to wait for him all that time in the clink. But she’d held on, stood by Dolan and kept spinning around the Blind Fox like she was born to serve drinks. Held her own in that quiet, strong way of hers that didn’t scream moxie, it just did it.

He stamps out the cigarette into the ash tray and stands, stretching his neck, striding to her. He takes her tray, setting it on an empty table before taking her in his arms, spinning her and dipping her.

“Baby, you’re the bees knees... and it’s time for you to take a breather.” He whispers with hot breath in her ear.

“After you, Legs.” She giggles up at him.

Shand is practically carrying Dakara by the time they make it to the back room door. He presses her passionately against the wall, leaving trails of kisses down her neck. She grapples for the doorknob, swinging the door wide.

"Dolan."

The response is short but not at all upset, actually far from it, playfully strict, flirtatiously offended.

"Playing with handcuffs is in such poor taste right now."

Clearly not as she presses her mouth to his jawline, not needing much convincing to get her lips to explore his neck to her heart's content, the line seeming more like a dare than a threat. Even though he tries to conceal it, she can still feel it when his muscles tense at her touch, however brief it may be, and it always pulls a happy, twist smile at the corners of her mouth.

It's probably the "brief" part of that thought she likes the most. Some men dance around the floor but that's never been his style and she loves it. Says what he means and what he wants.

Her sensitive ears hear the doorknob rattle and the better part of her tells her that she should probably take her mouth away from him, stop unbuttoning his neatly pressed vest, but he started this and she'll be damned if she's the one that stops it. Wouldn't be the first time someone walked in on them, probably won't be the last.

"U-Uh..."

Luna keeps her thoughts to herself on the matter, mentally noting the differences in body shape between her and Trita.

"Well, I'm sure if Dolan and Trita give me the ok, I can also leave and go shopping for one just for the occasion. Oh."

The thought hushes her for a second. Just a second.

"Don't fellas and dolls match colors to events or important dates? We can wear your favorite since this was your idea."

For being a couple years older than Lunath, her smile is very innocent and sweet, clearly enjoying his dorky, clumsy company.

Dolan doesn't even look over to the door. He just sinks his head down into the space between Trita's neck and shoulder and growls. "Shaaaaaaand."

Shand still has a mess of red curls in one hand and other parts of Dakara in the other, but his mouth is open in disgusted horror.

"Uh...whatcha doin with the bracelets, there, Pops?" He asks, like he hardly wants to know, but is willing to put himself through any sort of embarrassment- anything to watch Dolan dance.

But, nothing doing. "Things were just about to get hot and heavy in here, so I️ think it's in your best interest to scram."

Shand looks back down at Dakara and sighs. "Who should I️ talk to about putting in an extra back room, in the meantime?"

Dolan reaches over and slams the door in his face, locking it this time.

Shand sighs up at the ceiling outside the closed door, Dakara straightening her dress and trying to collect herself.

She looks up at him, watching his face, watching his eyes dart from the door back onto the floor, to his shoes, to her face. He looks almost paranoid.

Dakara inhales deeply, a little peeved now. "You're into it again, aren't you?" Her hands go immediately to her hips.

"No need to get all lathered up about it," he responds quietly, leaning one arm against the wall on the other side of her.

"Says you!" She scoffs, pushing his chest gently to move out from under his arm. "It scares me when you mess with that dope. You better leave it alone."

She wags a finger in his face before slipping past and back onto the floor. Shand inhales, smooths his hair back, straightens his shirt. Leave it alone? Fat chance.

Lunath can't hide how pleased he is that Luna is suggesting they go matched. His face falls a bit, though, when he realizes what it'll take to get them both out shopping at the same time.

Dolan still thinks of Lunath as a child, as a little bunny still needing watching over. He hardly even lets him mill out town himself, even out of the bad parts. It really had only gotten worse after Shand had gone away.

Lunath gets it, he guesses. You can't be too careful. Shand had told him once that it would be better for him to never get his hands dirty in the business, cause once he did, they'd never come clean again.

But it's not like Lunath wants to step outside the Fox with the chopper Dolan's got hidden away in a barrel in the back room and go bumping off gum-shoes and goons alike. He just wants to take Luna out, find cute matching get-ups for them both and have a nice night at the opera. Hardly a gangster in the making.

"Yah," he turns to her. "You know what? Purple. Deep purple. It's my favorite. Hip to the jive."

"Well, if he didn't know before, he knows now."

Trita laughs low, intentionally close to his ear, nail tapping on the metal impatiently, producing a small clicking noise. He got her back here, probably knowing good and well that she's been eying him walking around the floor all night, so she'll be damned if he doesn't keep his word and show her a good time.

Luna tilts her head, those few strands of purple hair that had fallen sway in the breeze and she uses them as an example, holding them out to their proper length and twirling them around her finger over and over.

"Dark purple... Like my hair?"

Her eyebrow arches with a playful smirk, having to press her lips tightly together at his expression as he pieces the correlation together.

She's been eyeing Lunath for a while, it's true, but she tries to keep things casual between them during most part of the days. Last thing she wants are her adoring fans to catch her glances at him and try something. Try what, she's not sure, but Trita and Shand are always telling her to watch herself, that famous songbirds are often the casualty of most crimes. Neither told her if they meant very popular opera singers because that's what she wants to be or canaries in speakeasy's, so she was left to assume that it's all the same. That said, she would hate to drag Lunath into something because some eager sap couldn't keep to himself. Lunath doesn't really look like the fighting type, not that she minds herself, but for his sake.

The fortunate thing is that they rarely leave the speakeasy or family house, so, even during times she feels uncomfortable speaking with him here, she can find him in a corner of the house reading, mind far away. It's relaxing, quiets her mind.

"If fancy yourself a purple shade, I don't mind finding a dress. I'll try to make sure it doesn't clash with my hair."

The band continues playing jazz without rest, even as the two of them sit and take a break and regardless of whoever is occupying the backroom.

"I️ don't really care what he knows or doesn't know." Dolan smiles wickedly, teasing her bottom lip with his teeth. She can feel his smile on her mouth. "Because what I️ wanna know, is whether or not the key came with those handcuffs."

Shand watches Dakara glide back out on the floor and pick up her tray, heading right back to the bar to grab another round of orders from Axel.

He can't be too upset with her. He had, at a point, promised her he was through. It had been a lie, of course- but in his defense, it can become a little hard after a while to separate which lies are for business and which are for pleasure.

According to the clock on the wall at the far end of the bar, Thrandr has been gone for three hours. If he doesn't get back within the next two, Shand's predetermined that the best response is panic.

Near the clock, Nameless sits at the end of the bar, not drinking and not doing anything of consequence. Just looking. Shand wonders where his free ride like that is. When Nameless realizes Shand's looking at him, he waves him over.

Lunath can't stop blushing, and its hard for him to believe that his secret is finally out. That Luna's agreeing to go somewhere with him, even if he does have to come up with a strategy for getting himself out of the speakeasy during business hours unnoticed. It's all just crossing t's and dotting i's from there.

Luna still sits across from him, twirling a piece of hair in her fingers still, looking lit up and over the moon as Lunath is. He doesn't know what else he can say, so he just tries to wipe the dumb smile off his face as he opens his book and lets his glasses fall on their own back onto the bridge of his nose.

"You would want to know, wouldn't you?"

It's all well rehearsed at this point, his vest if off in a matter of seconds like it was made without buttons to impede their progress in the first, not entirely sure where she discarded it. They'll have to clean the backroom after this, which, again, is not new for them but it does typically lead to more antics and nothing really gets done other than a good time.

And that's really all that matters when they're smiling like idiots throwing clothes around, their own and each others. She wishes she could say she didn't know who was going to win this round but her hand tangled in his hair and other shaking the small key beside his ear tell her that she has a pretty good idea of whose escapade this is. The rest of the speakeasy better be glad there's always swing pouring out of every speaker.

Nameless watches Shand approach him, tapping his finger on the bar, not quite used to the feeling of having hands and still trying to adjust, but he still seems amused, watching this little scene and knowing of several others unseen.

"Blocked by Pops, huh?"

He motions to the stool beside him for Shand to join him, getting another rum, neat of course, from Axel ready so that it's in front of his chair before he even sits down.

"What's shakin? Where'd you send Ploy and Eidolon off to? Not to mention Thrandr."

Luna watches him read, smiling contently, almost like they're not even at the Blind Fox anymore, leaning her head back to close her eyes and get some rest.

It's a little short-lived when a man walks up to the table with shaking hands, looking like a nervous wreck.

"H-Hi, uh, I was... I was just wondering if you'd like to cross the floor since you're on break?"

"Oh..."

Her response and lack of interest in her tone already brings a defeated expression to the stranger's face and it does send a wave of guilt through her for a hot second, eyes darting to Lunath as if to ask for advice on the issue but also to read his reaction.

He seems absorbed in his book but she'd love for some input. Shand had always told her not to accept too many dances from strangers if any, and she always thought that had meant something else entirely until she danced with a man and Shand quickly stepped in. So he meant both options.

Now that she thinks about it, most of the things she knows about the dangerous world come as warnings from Shand and she's not sure how she should handle that new realization in her life.

Dolan has forgotten how many breaks he and Trita have taken in the back room since opening the speakeasy. It's definitely been enough for him to lose count.

They've taken breaks together all over the bar. Inside the curtained off booths, behind the bar itself, behind that ridiculous feather arrangement Trita had to have. He thanked her for her demand of it later.

But his most favorite time with Trita is after the whole place shuts down. In the earliest hours of the morning, when the sun is just starting to think about rising. When all the patrons are gone and there is a strange, magical glow of lamps and stage lights and there are empty shot glasses and dead soldiers sitting on the bar and on tables and chairs and even the floor.

When the rest of the family's been sent home, because their day will start sooner than Dolan and Trita's. That's when he likes to take Trita's hand and pull her out onto the empty, silent dance floor. Swing her around him slowly, pull her into his chest, sway with her a bit, the only music playing in their minds. And they're always on the same tune.

That's their version of pillow talk, in a way. They'll recount their day, share stories about dumb and boiled patrons, talk about what needs to be done for that night and what's going on in the outer reaches of the family's grasp.

They do more than that, of course. But it's what Dolan lives for every night.

So she catches him smiling extra widely in the middle of a kiss. He has a bad habit of doing that, smiling in the middle of kisses. He just never thought he'd be lucky enough for this to be his life, this empire they've built side by side.

Shand scoffs at Nameless as he leans against the bar, spreading his arms out across it, scanning the place as he does. "Pops will find out before too long that he needs to reorder cleaning supplies."

He gets a vindictive gleam on his face that makes him look slightly like a small child, also giving off the impression that the cleaning supplies maybe didn't disappear all on their own.

Shand has thrown back the rum almost before it even hits the bar, nodding a thanks to Axel. He turns back to Nameless with that wonderful burn still raw in his throat.

"Eidolon and Ploy are... on a recognizance mission." He takes very little time to twist the words into their most diplomatic form. "And Thrandr is on a personal errand for me."

He looks over at Nameless and holds eye contact, knowing that Nameless knows how to translate his diplomacy rather well.

"We're keeping the personal errand on the down low, though. Kind of a sensitive topic at the moment." He watches Dakara sashay around the tables, steps a little heavier than before, and with less twirling. It cuts him to his core that he can hurt her so badly with just opening his mouth.

But that's something he's accepted about himself for a long time and he knows she's accepted, too. They've had their spats since jumping into the family business together, but Shand's never before had a relationship like this where he knows that it's rock solid. The storms will pass.

Well, not never. His eyes drift over to the stage-side lounge area, where Lunath's nose is stuck in a book and Luna looks lost at the young man standing in front of her. Shand sighs.

"Time to go see a dog about getting streeted." He parts from Nameless with a fakely cheery smile.

"Beat it, belle. She's not interested." Shand stands behind the young man at the booth, hands resting on his hips. There's a moment when he grazes the chest of his jacket to reveal that there's a little more in there than just him.

"What's going on?" Lunath's head jerks upwards in alarm, eyes going from Luna to Shand. "What did I️ do?"

"Nothing." Shand laughs. "Sometimes for better and sometimes for worse."

Dolan's stupidly smooth lips curl up, not in the seductive, suggestive way he has just been whispering against her neck, but open and happy. Feeling it against her own pulls her mouth in the same way like they're directly connected by invisible strings. In a way, they are.

They were children together, batting eyes and kicking their shoes in the dirt, but they were always together, holding hands running down dirty city streets. Not a day goes by that she doesn't regret accepting Kynton's invitation to that stupid dance, it's what tore the two apart for several long years, long years of pining after a man who would never love her back, who was content to see her waste away in a house cooking, cleaning, eventually raising children when the time would come even though that was very much against her own hopes and dreams.

But she did it for him because "love" then watched as his love ran after someone else and took every possession she owned, leaving her homeless on the street, no money, no food, not an item to her name other than the frilly dress he sent her packing with.

She's grateful for her first speakeasy job, but it wasn't easy and she barely talks about it with even Dolan for multiple reasons. The list of things she did to survive are not things she's proud of. Thinking back on it all, it's hard to smile, but that's what it took to make their paths cross again, to get him to beg for her help starting his own speakeasy, to this moment in the back room and all the ones before and the ones still to come. A lifetime of irritatingly beautiful eyes, soft hair, and hopelessly adorable smiles.

"You're such a sap of a cat."

Of course, she doesn't take her lips from his, even with the brief shift in atmosphere.

Nameless sighs, leaning on his palm awkwardly like it's the most unnatural action, because it is for him, watching Shand walk away. It does bother him that, since creating this world, no one spares him any time like they used to but he can chalk that up to his incredible dimension creating skills.

Doesn't mean he isn't getting bored waiting around for something to do, even if he's sure things are going to shake up soon.

Luna watches the man quickly walk away like a bat out of dodge then turns to look up at Shand defensively but not upset, in fact he's grateful for his intervention.

"I promise I wasn't going to dance, just like you told me not to."

Her eyes drift to the crowd on the dance floor, suddenly feeling a different longing.

"I know you said not to dance but you also said all of those 'Class A' women go to parties and dance the night away, so shouldn't I practice in case... You know..."

She can't finish the sentence, afraid she'll earn another lecture on how dangerous it is to leave the house or Blind Fox. No parties in upper society. No outside parties at all. "We don't belong there" is what they always say but what she hears is "you don't belong there."

Dolan curls Trita's fingers in his own, watching them intertwine with his perfectly, long and graceful. He wants to be lazy in this back room with her forever.

He presses his forehead to hers until the tips of their noses are almost touching, too.

"How many high-hats you think Axel's run off by now?" He asks after a pause, with a self-conscious laugh.

He always feels the need to deflect attention from himself after moments like these, as if he'll wake- or worse, she will- and it'll all just have been a dream.

He sighs. There's more to it, of course. He hadn't missed the look on Shand's face before, how he's been skulking around the Fox, restless these last few weeks he's been back. Something's off, more than just the regular getting readjusted.

But Dolan doesn't want to ruin their moment, or steal away Trita's moment of peace with business- family or otherwise.

So he just kisses her again. "You know, you're pretty air tight yourself."

Shand sighs at Luna's blatant plea. He's used to them, of course. Ones to go to parties, ones to see every inch of the city, ones to travel with him and meet important people like he does.

There's always a bit of guilt involved every time he hears a new one, but that's just the nature of business in this family. Nothing as it seems.

"We have parties here, Angel. Roaring ones. Ones people come from all around to, just to hear that keen little voice of yours."

Shand touches the back of her head gently, affectionately. "The only sorry rags that dance are the ones that can't make music for themselves. It's their consolation prize."

He sees her sigh and nod, always so accepting of his guidance, his rules. How is he supposed to tell a sweet young thing like her about a world that'll eat her alive, just like it did him? She's after in these walls, making everything here, Shand's life here, more beautiful just by opening her mouth and letting songs out.

Lunath looks a little down in the mouth, too, and Shand reaches over and ruffles his hair for good measure.

"You two look like someone's just bumped off your best pal. Cheer up. Thing'll pick up around here soon, you have my word." Shand winks at the two before rejoining Nameless at the bar.

Those two- the only sweet, innocent, unspoiled ones left out of all of them. Ones without their hands stuck in the laundering and the fixing and the moving and shaking and even the popping.

If Shand has his way, and it's very seldom that he doesn't, they never will.

Axel plunks another glass down for shand, who nearly drinks it, but once it gets to his lips he slams it back down on the bar indignantly.

"Neat, Axel, what are you, thick? Trying to kill me. I️ drank better in the big house." Shand swears under his breath until he's received his rum without ice, and Nameless cocks his head at him judgmentally.

"Oh, am I?"

She shifts the two of them around to sit on his lap facing him, keeping her forehead to his with a sweet smile, leaning against him like he's the only thing keeping her sitting tall. In a lot of ways, he is.

Trita allows her red eyes to drop almost bashfully, or as close to bashful as she will allow herself to get knowing there are people around, even if they're clear in the other room separated by a door. Her free hand fiddles with his tie, noting how askew it is even from just there few minutes of dancing their hands and mouths along each other.

"You make it so hard to do anything but... Well, you."

Her soft smile easily switches back to a tempting smirk, allowing a second to pass so her comment can sink in. He's hiding something and she wants so desperately to pull it from his soft lips, but forcing information from him is something she promised she would never do. She could con the entire world into spilling details about people they didn't know they had, but she would never take that sort of freedom from Dolan.

All Luna can do is agree to the rules Shand sets before her. What does she know about the world to argue them? All she knows is what he tells her and she admits that limits her view of things, she's no idiot.

But everything he says, everywhere he goes, all the small nic nac's he brings back for her that line every flat surface of her room, seem so fantastical and regal, alluring and inviting, that she has to wonder if she's missing out on something more? Stuck in these walls, putting on a show, is there something more she could be doing with her life?

She's mentioned the opera casually to a select few but no one knows how much she longs to be on the stage, wowing audiences of thousands, capturing the heart of a population, feeling... Well, important.

Her eye trail along, watching Shand go back to Nameless and her heart feels heavy. On the way back to the house tonight, she'll talk to him about it again, see if a few drinks can't loosen his rules and tongue.

"Well, I guess there goes that, huh? Have a feeling they're not going to like us jumping across the street for a night of dresses and feathers."

Nameless takes Shand's glass away from him before he can break it.

"Don't get blood on the counter. Trita'll tan you."

Axel shoots Shand a glare, turning his back with his warning to go make another.

"So, had to put the hammer down on the little birdies, did you?"

The fox- well, human- sets the glass back down, flicking the glass to send a soft chime into the air, judging Shand's "parenting" tactics.

Dolan lets his finger graze her collarbone, tracing it tenderly and lightly. He teases at her lips with his again, a slow, gentle, lingering play between teeth and tongues.

"Let's not talk about what's hard." He squinches his face up at her and playfully licks the tip of her nose. "Why did I️ want to run a speakeasy, again? All I️ need in life is a good back room and you."

His wandering fingers find her thighs now, tapping and dancing and walking his pointer and index fingers up her leg.

"You know I'd be hopelessly lost without you. I'd be the bunny," he grins.

That's what makes it so hard to hold things back from her. And he can tell she's been waiting.

He groans. "Okay, okay, Shand is on my mind. Not the whole time we've been in here, of course, but I'm just...I'm worried about him. Don't tell him I️ said that, though."

Shand rolls his eyes at Nameless. "Won't be the first time the bar gets bloody." He drinks his corrected drink in one, quick swallow, glancing with preoccupied eyes up at the clock.

"They're green. And they're gonna stay that way." When he doesn't say more, Nameless arches an eyebrow at him.

"I️ think if I️ can keep Lunath out of prison, my father might eventually forgive me for going." It's not the whole truth, but it's part of it. Thank God Dolan'd had Trita then, in Shand's absence, or the whole operation run out of the Blind Fox would have fallen down around his head. And all he'd ever really cared about was his speakeasy.

Dakara swings up to the Lunath and Luna's booth after observing Shand's visit. She sets down a couple glasses of water and a small bowl of lemon and lime wedges.

Lunath grabs up a lemon wedge to chew on and Luna makes a face, but he keeps eating it.

"Shand being a wet blanket?" Dakara asks, trying to be diplomatic, but knowing that he's the Fox King of charm and double talk, not her.

"He's... making sure we all stick to ground rules." Lunath shrugs, discarding the lemon rind and sticking a paper straw in his glass of water. He wanted to get out and see the world beyond the Blind Fox and their little empire, but not as bad as Luna did.

There's a fear behind her eyes when she talks to Shand about leaving, like she's scared of getting her hand slapped, but even more scared of missing out on something great. Like she wants to be high on life, but doesn't know how.

Lunath wishes he knew how, so he could be the one to teach her.

"Well," Dakara smiles with her cherry red lips, draping some of her long red curls back behind her shoulder. "I️ don't see the harm in taking a night out on the town. What's a harmless little shopping trip between us girls?"

Not even five minutes ago Dolan was the one that groaned in irritation when she teased him with a quick kiss. Looks like it's payback as he starts to get rather into the moment, his actions becoming more and more unbearable.

She's already completely undone his tie and has worked on the first few buttons of his shirt to give her easy access to his smooth chest and broad shoulders, feeling his muscles and how hot he is under her touch.

The playing of their lips and bodies so close has nearly made her forget for a split moment of everything outside of this room. If he keeps playing at her leg, he's going to rip her tights and there's no way she can explain that to Kvanne when they inevitably have to go back out to the floor. Not that she cares, but Kvanne will care about image.

His sudden seriousness and delay in moving forward causes her to groan in ever so slight annoyance and she smacks her long ears against the top of his head.

"I love you but you need to decide if you want to barber or dance. I'm okay with either but I really can't do both at the same time. Can't juggle like you."

And she's right, all of her attention is completely absorbed in everything about him, so if he wants to change the topic he would be better off buttoning his shirt back up. He'd have to fight her as she's gotten halfway down now to allow her hands more freedom of exploration, but she would stop if he decided he really needed to talk. She's no animal, regardless of physical characteristics.

Nameless rolls his eyes at Shand's childishness, sipping on the drink Shand discarded but still making a face at the taste of alcohol, nose completely scrunched.

"You can't protect them forever, Shand. They'll have to leave eventually. You know Luna is going to try to talk to you again about it, anyways. May as well come to some sort of understanding?"

Luna's eyes light up at the proposition and she looks years younger than she actually is. She's older than Lunath or even Shand, but she still has an innocence to her untouched by the world... Despite everything she has previously been through, what Trita took her away from.

"You serious? You'll really take me shopping to get a proper dress?"

Pausing, she carefully thinks over her words.

"You'll take me out on the town to get a dress? Not just order one to be dropped off here?"

Dolan lets out a soft, slow chuckle that is more air than voice. She's trailing her hands all along his upper body now, and the further she gets, he more thinks it rather a shame to let Shand, of all people, interject on this.

He waits a few moments though, staring into her eyes and suppressing a smile. Instead of an answer, he hoists her up close to him with aggressive force and turns them, so that she sits on top of the barrel and he can stand leaning down over her, mouth at her neck right where it meets her jaw.

"Everything but this can wait." He nudges her knees further apart so he can move in closer to her, bodies pressed tight together like they want to absorb into each other, right here in the back room.

He lets his hands squeeze all the way down the sides of her body and then up her thigh, completely careless of her dress and her tights. Part of him doesn't mind if they end up ripped. Kvanne's annoyance will only be that much more gratifying.

Shand sighs in exasperation at Nameless. Yes, Nameless knows stuff. Nameless was here before any of them, practically came with the place. When he'd first laid eyes on it, when he'd gone out scouting for good locations when his father had decided to pull the trigger finally on his speakeasy dream, Nameless had been here lounging at the empty bar much as he is now, and he'd just never left.

But that doesn't mean that Shand takes his word as gold, like some of the folks around here. Shand knows the saying is father knows best, but in this family, he considers that to be more of his role.

"Luna can talk all she wants." Shand shakes his head and waves at Axel to quit playing around and just give him the bottle. "She didn't have a home or a family or someone to look out for her before, and now she does. And I'll be damned if that's all for nothing."

And yes, Shand knows that if neither Lunath nor Luna ever get embroiled in the family business, they'll become irrelevant here at some point. It's probably for the better. He can see Lunath heading off to school, or to even be some sort of teacher himself. And Luna, she's always been destined for a bigger stage, regardless of her insecurities.

But for now, Shand refuses to imagine any future but this one- the present going on perpetually as it is and no one leaving. He'll be here forever, he knows. There is no easy sliding out of this for him, and even if there was, he wouldn't want to. He doesn't know anything else- this is what he's best at. So if he's going to be here for the long haul, why wouldn't he want to imagine that everyone he loves and cares about will be, too?

Even if it is a fantasy. It's a harmless one, for now. "The only understanding we're going to come to," Shand points his finger at Nameless before taking a swig straight from the bottle. "Is them understanding that things are complicated, and all I'm doing is protecting them."

Dakara laughs a bright, airy, breezy smile and Lunath can see what it is that makes Shand and Dakara so good together. She's like the inside out version of him.

"Oh, sweetheart." Dakara twirls a strand of Luna's long hair around her finger, clearly admiring the color and the smoothness, which is highly contrasted with her own hair. "It's a big sprawling desert of sidewalks and shiny cars and people in a hurry out there, but the department stores."

She closes her eyes in reverie like she's savoring the richest of memories. "Mmmm. Take it from a girl who used to get around. There's nothing in this world like 'em. Sixteen stories of the best and the prettiest and the sparkliest." She tenses her shoulders up in a self-made shiver and then pauses in her reminiscing to cast a curious look down at at Luna

"Have you ever been to one? Hudson's? Marshall Field?"

Lunath has no clue what they're talking about. When he dreams of getting out, he sees visions of rooftop gardens and the Eiffel Tower, desert sands and the ocean. He wants to see the world, not a bunch of pretty dresses.

But then again, if it would make Luna happy to go on a shopping spree all day, he'd volunteer to leave the Fox just to be the one to tote all her bags behind her.

That thought makes him blush a little bit down into his glass of water, straw still dangling from his lips.

Nameless laughs, elbowing Shand, clearly disagreeing but not bothered. He's never bothered. Even when Shand broke into the boarded up building to waltz around and scout it out, he wasn't bothered, just greeted the criminal like an hold friend and offered to pour him a drink.

"Well, why don't you try to explain that lil'fresh tad bit of perspective with her when she inevitably comes to you bright-eyed and talking about her dream tonight on the way back to the house, hm?"

Oh, Nameless knows the dream in detail and Shand probably has an idea, but no one will know like Nameless does.

"You are young and stupid, I'm sure you can relate on some level."

Luna shakes her head quickly, allowing Dakara to play with her hair without complaint. She always watches the other woman waltz around like she owns the place, owns Shand, the one person she looks up to the most... Because she does. If anyone could own that idiotic druggie, then that girl's gotta be the absolute bee's knees, no doubt about it.

Even her fiery hair is something to admire with how it bouncing like a flame in the breeze. They're not far off in age but still there's such a huge difference in how the two act and carry themselves. If she could spend time with Dakara maybe she could start acting like her, becoming the strong woman of society she loves to admire. From what she understands, they do have things in their pasts in common, so why are they so different? Why couldn't she turn out to be someone like the dame in front of her? Could she ever? There's a way to find out.

And that could all start with shopping.

"I don't ever get to go shopping. Trita and Shand buy everything for me when they go out so I don't think I've ever seen a department store. The most they take me to is a market to buy food but that's boring."

Laughing into a shrug, she tries to play off her irritation with that bit of information she shares, pushing her annoyance with the two deep down, like she always does.

Shand snorts into the rum bottle. "Young and stupid, sure. But also  rolling in dough with this whole city eating out of my hand, so."

And Luna can talk about her dream til she's blue in the face. Because if there's anything Shand knows, it's that dreams take. Sure, goals are attainable, but in this world, you've always got to be willing to sell a part of yourself to get to where you want to go. She could make it, but Shand's not willing to let her go down that road on his watch.

Shand's still working shamelessly on the bottle when Kvanne opens the barred wooden door, slips it open just a crack, and Thrandr slides in, face tight and ashen. Just like when he's trying to disguise a good poker hand. Unfortunately, Shand hasn't found many times that life imitates poker.

He sighs loudly, pushing himself off the bar, bottle in hand. He know's he's being a tinge dramatic, letting the unhinged part of him show just a bit. After all, it's still business hours and he has an image to maintain- one that belongs to all of them, really. But the rum bottle dangling from his hand gives off a clear air of not giving a rat's ass.

He lets Thrandr come to him, ignoring Nameless' face when Thrandr leans his head in to speak quietly. Shand doesn't let him.

"You got it?" He asks matter of factly.

Thrandr pats his breast pocket. "We got a little situation to talk about first, though. A Wolf issue."

Shand makes no visible response at first, then only a slight flaring of his nostril, a higher grip on his half-empty bottle before he pats Thrandr's shoulder and nods him forward.

There is a room in the Blind fox, past the back room, way out of the path of patrons, or really anyone who doesn't know it's there.

Before Dolan had seen this place, even agreed to it, Shand had already locked it down and had this room put in- back when the place was still destined to be an above board operation, as per Dolan's specifications.

But when it'd had to go under the radar, and Dolan had struggled, having left the dirty underground behind in his son's hands, he'd brought in Trita and Shand had found a partner to tango with at last. He'd made her promise that this room stay a secret from his father, if only to keep Pop's hands clean after he'd struggled so long and hard to scrub away all the dirt and blood.

Because this is where Shand, with Trita's help, runs the Foxes. The whole shebang, everything going on just below the surface of the Blind Fox. It's a rectangular room with brick walls that are lined with chalkboard betting grids, strong boxes and money safes, carefully hidden away cracking equipment and wooden pallet boxes of artillery. Lots of money, lots of bets, lots of bootleg, and more.

Shand eases back into a worn, plush leather highback chair that he regards like a throne and discards the rum for a bottle already waiting for him on the mahogany sideboard directly behind him. He hides all the good absinthe away before Trita can get her hands on it.

Thrandr pulls the curtain along the outer wall that hides this place, closes the heavy double doors, bars them inside. This room has no windows- covered or otherwise. The dark green betting boards sprawled with barely legible horses' names are the closest it gets to windows in here.

"So what are our Wolves up to now, huh?" Shand asks after a long swallow that makes him grimace and grit his teeth.

"Word is they've gone beyond putting coppers on payroll to enforce. They've got 'em running for 'em now, too."

Shand huffs out a long breath, chin in his hand, lost in thought. No wonder they'd pulled off that frame up job on him for as long as they had. He'd lost two of the most prime years of his life to those bastards, all over a hit he'd been a little too late to pull.

Not to mention the time he'd lost inside, but now that he's out and stuck piddling around the Blind Fox, the streets are changing and he's being held out of the game. If there's anything he can't abide, it's that.

Thrandr pulls a small brown paper wrapped packet and throws it onto the long table running down the middle of the room.

"And you'll never guess who I️ ran into getting this."

Shand's eyes flick up from his absinthe, not giving a response. Thrandr continues anyway.

"The Wolves' second, Hadrian- hand in hand with the coppers now, and from what I️ hear, he's got a few personally in his pocket. Took over running their dope now, too."

Shand leans back against he chair, hard, his eyes cold.

"Alright. Thanks. Go cheat at cards." He forces a sideways grin and Thrandr leaves, closing the door behind him as Shand stands and lights another cigarette.

Dolan forgets exactly how Trita ended up back in his lap with the two of them sprawled across three barrel-tops, but he's quite pleased with the way her hair is barely wisped around her temples, held there with the smallest bit of sweat around her hairline.

He leans and retrieves his tie off the floor, dabbing her temple with the back of it, laughing softly.

"I️ think we should hold onto those handcuffs a little longer. From where I️ sit, getting hauled in isn't so bad after all."

His breaths are deep and even, his lungs trying to get back to a normal rhythm. But he still wants to kiss her. He wants to kiss her all day long and all night long and for forever.

But a violent banging on the door stops that idea in its tracks.

"Trita." Shand's voice outside is impatient, but unnervingly even in that way it gets when his mind is stuck on business. "We need a talk."

"Well screw Shand." Dakara leans in and gives Luna a wink, then covers Lunath's ears before continuing. "Well, not tonight cause you and me, Luna, we're going out." Her smile is huge and infectious, and she cuts her eyes over to the bar to see if Shand's watching, but he's nowhere to be seen.

"You just make a list of everything you're gonna need, and we'll wander the floors to your sweet little heart's content." Dakara flips her hair over her shoulder as she walks away with a smile, although her eyes, with intense heat, scan the bar and the floor for Shand.

Trita sighs, leaning over him.

“For not even being my actual son, he sure does demand to speak with me a lot.”

But she’s not upset. This is just another aspect of her job, an aspect she absolutely adores that she tries to keep a safe distance from Dolan. Aside from illegal selling of alcohol, he’s washed his hands of this life and she can’t blame him. Sometimes, mostly when she’s pressed close to him staring into his eyes and allowing herself to get lost, she thinks about how much she wants out to live a more honest life by his side.

But she can’t. This is her sacrifice in love. Between Trita and Shand, they keep the speakeasy safe, the Foxes flourishing, and Dolan’s dream alive, and she’d give up her body for the last reason alone. Being the leader and controller of information in the underground is a small cost all things considered.

She snatches his tie from him and pats down her neck and chest with it, making intentional eye contact with him the full time. She knows what she’s doing, even when she ever so gently folds it on his bare chest and slowly rolls off of him.

Quick twist of her skirt, roll of her sleeves, pinning of her hair and she’s back in mostly working order, though the runs in her tights and several obvious marks on her exposed neck are going to give Kvanne a heart attack. Fanning herself, she leans over to pick up his shirt from the floor and toss it on him for modesty but also to keep up the flirtations. Pure or heavy, they never stop flirting much to their joy.

“Be good and run the floor while I’m gone.”

Blow of a kiss and she’s out the door, keeping it closed enough that no one can see in. There’s a split second where she makes eye contact with Shand as she straightens the short fur on her tall ears and she’s more worried about a racist rabbit comment than about what happened in the room. She’d be more than happy to discuss the event in detail if he really wants to try to go there and her eyes say as much.

“Well, lead on.”

Luna watched after Dakara in awe. It’s decided: She’s going to be more like the redhead. She’s going to command attention more and get her way, get Dakara to give her fashion pointers while at the store since she’s never had the privilege of picking her own style.

Eidolon and Ploy slip back into the bar like normal patrons, making their way to the dance floor to blend in yet again, smiling like drunk idiots, all the perfect act. It always has been, ever since they joined the Foxes.

“Lookie there. Lunath’s got himself the songbird.”

His gold eyes watch Lunath and Luna over Ploy’s shoulder with a sense of satisfaction and amusement but she just sighs, swinging them around so Eidolon can’t spy.

“You’re usually so smart that it hurts me how clueless you are at very random moments. They’ve had the hots for each other for years now.”

Now she watches the two, the turn clearly being more for her benefit as she now spies on them, eyeing Lunath in particular with a proud, happy smile.

Sent from Topic'it App

"You smell like old man sex." Shand scoffs at her as he beckons her into the secret room and closes the door tight behind her.

It's just the nature of their relationship, to rib each other back and forth. He's known she and Pops have been sneaking around, even as kids, but she's his business partner too, in a way with potentially far more consequences.

"So I'm assuming you two stayed locked in the backroom the whole time I️ was in stir? Cause the streets are rumbling and now we look weak and I️ look like an idiot."

Shand's hands are on his hips, but she knows he's not threatening her. He's just too upset to not let his reaction spill over a bit.

"The Wolves are coming up on our heels. Overstepping bounds. We're not letting that slide."

He picks right back up where he left off with his absinthe bottle, not caring whether Trita sees that he's poached part of her stash for himself.

"So I️ need to know what you know. And I'm assuming there's a lot you know."

Dakara stands with her ear to the door of the secret room. She's not supposed to know where it is, and Shand has sworn her to the utmost secrecy, but the back room has been in use a few too many times to just let the secret room stay totally off limits.

Besides, the secret room is like Shand's throne room, and if there's anyone who would protect those secrets with her life, it's Dakara.

Even though he lets her into his secret room on occasion, Shand seldom lets her in on the details of what he does in it. Just enough to let her know when things are going well and when things aren't.

When things are going well, there's money to throw around left and right. When things aren't going well, Shand drinks and is always sending Thrandr out for dope and makes a habit of breaking glass against walls until he's collected himself again.

She hasn't seen any glass breaking yet, but just the sight of his face at the bar earlier tells her that something bad is brewing. And now she knows it involves the Wolves, which makes it even worse.

The Wolves and the Foxes are at war. It's been a lopsided war for a long time, the Foxes running the city and the Wolves nipping back here and there, always second. But ever since they'd set Shand up, the tide had started to turn and now it seems the Foxes can barely turn around without the Wolves poisoning one of their wells.

It really happened while Shand was in prison, so it's not something he's fully aware of yet. Trita had held her own so well running the family alone while Dolan threw himself into the speakeasy in his grief, but Trita had her reasons for not wanting to launch an all-out war against the Wolves. But more or less, they'd done it for her.

Dakara knows Shand's not going to stand for that long. He's the type to cut down enemies when they're weak, long before they've built up energy and resources to strike. His strategy involves weeding the garden regularly, not giving anyone the chance to even grow into half a threat.

There hasn't been much weeding while he was away. And Dakara's afraid that he's about to find it out.

Lunath watches Luna's face as she admires Dakara, and he closes his book, focuses again on sipping through his straw. He wishes he were more outgoing, more confident himself, so that he could tell Luna to stay the way she is.

He's been stuck on her ever since she came to the Foxes, one of Trita's people who came over with her when she signed on to help run the growing empire. She'd been even quieter then, and was even a little timid to step up on the stage.

He'd only joined the musical performances a few years ago, when Shand had okayed it. He remembers back when the Blind Fox was set to become a respectable place, above board, before Prohibition had struck. Lunath had hopes of Juilliard and empty sheet music scrawled through his sleeping dreams before that.

But then the family had gotten too deep for all that, and the burden of his last name meant Lunath would never be bound for any reputable, swanky place like that. Money could buy it, sure, but his blood meant he didn't belong there.

He knows that, in a roundabout way, this is something Luna understands. He wishes there was a more delicate way to talk about it, to really lay out all the things they had in common. To be there for each other.

But he's just a boy with his nose stuck in a book, with glasses on his head and she's a dream.

The trumpet player waves them up for one more number before the place closes down and sends everyone home in the wee hours of the morning, and Lunath tries to let it all go.

Trita sits at a table, crossing her legs like they're in the most casual and typical business meeting, discussing the budget for some new bank teller project. She keeps her cool in situations where she really shouldn't and she makes no indication of being worried by the name drop Shand gives her, her poker face a product of years of a variety of experiences that only she could ever truly know.

Her hand extends out towards him as soon as she seats herself, reaching for the bottle, and the expectant gesture is not a request. It's a command. If he wants more, all he has to do is ask and she could keep her ears perked for a new shipment, but she saves these with patience, something he clearly doesn't have. Something about her posture and stare tells him she won't continue until he hands it over, which he, reluctantly, is forced to do.

"Of course I know a lot. I could sit here and brag on myself prove a point, but something tells me we don't have time for that."

Not even wanting to drink the absinthe, just wanting to take it from him, she sets the bottle on the floor next to her chair just so he can't easily reach it.

"I was busy while you found yourself caged, don't you dare for a second think I sat around on my ass like some love-struck sad puppy... Bunny. Whatever. You have no clue how much investigating I did, but you forget how much you left me to do."

She shoots the accusation back at him without a hint of regret.

"I was trying to keep your father from alcoholism and depression while taking on major responsibilities at Blind Fox and I was also trying to keep our little family afloat alone. Our average patron couldn't even tell anything had happened because I kept the ship going so well. So, yes, I had to scale back on our little adventures and just let the information come to me most of the time, but it was the only way I could keep everyone here and safe. Didn't need any more people walking to the big house."

The memory of that time makes her tired just to think about. Running the bar, keeping tabs on Dolan, taking on a security type role, gathering information, caring for everyone... Budgets, stock, information runs solo just so no one else would have to go out and get caught, this behind Dolan's back of course otherwise he wouldn't have let her, it was a hell of a time for her. And it's not like she hates Shand, not at all. She cares for him so she was also personally trying to keep a constant flow of information on how he was during his stunt in jail, make sure everything was okay. Other than Dolan becoming an almost unbearable workaholic walking the floor, she was the only one running both operations and she'll be damned if anyone mocks her for how she ran it. She did the best with what she had, which felt like just herself most days.

"Don't tell Dolan, but on nights when he tired himself out and slept for hours upset over your sorry state, I would make my runs alone. I knew and know what the Wolves were up to. You've heard that they've got the police, yeah? Well, they got them because one of them became chief of police through some dubious connections within the dirty management of the opera house on 5th, Olvreign. Sure you recognize that name, she's only been the leading actress for every opera the past six years. Which means, yes, they even have the high-class elite celebrities scratching checks with them."

Pause. He listens but something tells her it's not all entirely clicking for him. She can't blame him, he's been cut off from this world for a while.

"You know what that means, right? All the police, all of them, are under Wolves control whether they know it or not. Aleric is, by association, a Wolf now. The police are running investigations in all kinds of places they shouldn't stick their noses, and all are connected to the different members of us Foxes one way or another. So, the rich pay for their speakeasy and 'personal' funds while the taxpayer, doing their 'duty' and all that jazz, pays for their oblivious workforce. Not just that but I heard they got one running for some political office here soon. Young guy, Lev, going for a city council role. Public adores him. Smooth talker even for a politician. And these people being placed everywhere, they're not just grunts. These are big name Wolves. aren't playing chess anymore, this is a warzone now. This goes far beyond getting a steady flow of booze for Blind Fox now. Their generals are on the field."

And to be honest, she wanted to get on the field too, as the remaining general for the Foxes, but she couldn't afford it with the other general being gone like he was.

Luna looks over at the trumpet players and her shoulders fall. Another night without a dance. Another night getting up, singing, sitting down, then singing again like the Blind Fox's personal music box.

She's not ungrateful for everything she has and she loves seeing everyone sway to the songs she sings, but this pattern, this limited freedom kills her each day. There's a whole world she's never seen and stages she's never stood on, all just waiting. Honestly, she wanted to dance when she was asked, but she could only imagine Shand's reaction to that.

Besides, she was so hoping it would have been Lunath that asked but he was too preoccupied with his book. If she were like Dakara, would he finally notice her more? Would he talk more and would she not bore him after five minutes of conversation?

Gracefully, she slides from the booth and takes herself on the small crowded stage. The mic gives a little feedback, but it always does. It has since her first performance, it's basically a good luck sign at this point, like the wires are telling her to break a leg.

She manages a small smile at Lunath, waiting for her countdown before her voice rings out soft and low through the building, the song slow and sweet to wind people down for the night, like this is her own personal goodnight kiss to them all, wishing them the sweetest dreams.

Stay safe, live your lives, wake up in the morning and kiss your partner, hug your friend, explore your world then come see us all again, we'll be waiting. That's what the final song always meant to her and every night, this one being no different, she tries to get that across to all that hear, even the Foxes who have heard her voice a million times by now.

Something visibly breaks in Shand's eyes as Trita talks about how Dolan had fared over the last two years.

"I️ didn't asked to get slapped in bracelets and tossed in the clink, Trita." His voice is devoid of the emotion from before, stone cold to the point of ice hot fury. He leans over, pulls another bottle of absinthe from the bottom cabinet of the sideboard, pulls the cap off with his teeth, and starts in on it defiantly.

"The Wolves orchestrated every bit of that nightmare on purpose, and now here we are, them thinking they've won."

He shakes his head as if he's running his own mental dialogue with many cursewords.

"And I'm not completely deaf. I️ know they've got the opera house under their thumb and I️ know they've weaseled into high society. I️ also know that they've got a low-level runner who just moved up to Keiron's second. Hadrian, pulling weight with all the coppers. And I'm thinking if they're shifting around their people that much, I️ wanna know where your fella's falling in the mix nowadays. Your buddy from the bar today."

He doesn't mean to be biting and bitter and vindictive back at her, but she has cut him deeply, whether she knows it or not. The sacrifices he'd made for this family, the hell he'd lived through. None of them would ever know if he had anything to do with it. But now it all made him the blackest of the black sheep.

But his eyes are burning nonetheless. It's not hate for Trita, or the family, but it's certainly hate.

Once the last song is over, the patrons start clearing out and the bar really starts to feel like a home. Luna and Lunath start helping break down the stage, checking lights and cleaning instruments and making sure all the other musicians have their drinks.

Thrandr cleans up the craps table, pulls the night's earning from his breast pocket, counts them up on the bar. When Eidolon and Ploy come into view, he nods them over and says under his breath, "He's in there with Trita now. When they're done."

His voice is lowered, and anyone who's talking about business is doing the same because Dolan is behind the bar, double checking the inventory on the floor by the list Trita's made for filling a new order.

He's also running it by Kvanne's list of stock that's off limits for them currently. There's a dangerously large overlap. He sighs, rubbing the back of his head, running his tongue along his teeth. He's never anticipated having to run a speakeasy, but it's the closest thing to his dream available to him now.

When his father had died and unexpectedly left all that money, there was almost no choice. Well, for him. He and Shand had bickered- naturally. In the end, fate had decided Shand the winner. But over time, Dolan had come to see it as much more of a draw than he had originally.

This speakeasy, the Blind Fox, is everything. His lifeblood. The legitimization of his name, finally. Well, that part may still take a little longer. But he's come a long way from his days of staring down chopper squads in midnight back alleys.

As much as those days had made him who he is, he's glad to have gotten out. Now, he just worries about his son. Dolan hadn't gotten out early enough to prevent that lifestyle from rolling by proxy over onto Shand, but things were still different now.

The Foxes are a dynasty, an empire. A certain protection, an untouchable quality, had attached itself to their name. For that, he was thankful. He didn't have to know everything that happened behind the curtain, but he did know that they were doing well, making money, building business. As long as his family is safe and his speakeasy is alive, well, that was the dream. Nothing else mattered.

Trita didn't mean to cut him the way she had and he isn't good at hiding the fact she did. He needs to work on that, it's always been one of his biggest flaws... Just like knowing too much and flaunting it is hers.

One day she'll work on opening up to more than just Dolan. Well, Dolan and Dakara. She's spent many nights sharing a drink and a smoke with the other women, chitting, chatting, the whole nine-yards. The girl came from a hellish background and now walks around the joint getting whatever she wants from whoever and Trita has to admire that. If anything, she's been the best mole she's had sauntering around Blind Fox, and that's enough reason to earn some well-deserved respect. Her fiery personality and well-placed smiles were just bonuses.

"Kynton is an ex, I'm sure that's not difficult to figure out. He knew your father and I back when we were younger, proposed to me, we were engaged then we weren't. You could say he was less than a good guy, really. Works with the fuzz and, if I had to place bets, is knowingly working with the Wolves."

She grimaces as a few memories come back and it hurts enough that she reaches back down for the bottle she took from Shand, taking a swig herself, knowing she shouldn't rely so heavily on this stuff but sometimes it's a nice out.

“So we need to worry about his little visit here today.” Shand says it like a statement, but searches Trita’s face like its a question.

“Because I’m not taking for granted everything you did for this place, on your own, while I️ wasn’t here. But now I’m back, and I️ can see certain things crumbling that need some shoring up. So we need to get back on the same page about how we’re going to do that.”

Shand thinks for a moment, takes another swig. “And I️ also need you to get Pops off my back. I️ don’t know how I’m supposed to help you run this family again if I’m stuck in this place. Just sweet talk him a little. And congrats on being madly in love.”

He rolls his eyes at the end, moving away from the biting and back to the ribbing.

"Obviously. Really, Shand, that's all I wanted. You needed to acknowledge that I kept things running while you were gone. That's all. I love seeing you have to bite back your pride."

Trita grins at his confession, allowing herself another long sip on her bottle. Yeah, he still technically said she wasn't doing perfect on her own without him, but it does take the two of them to run this place like it needs. She's sure she'd be frustrated at what she saw if she came back after being gone for a while. So, the general idea that he admits she did everything she could and he's grateful is enough. She's not going to be a diva about it.

"Oh, I could think of several ways to get him off you're back. Would you like to talk about them?"

Something in her smirk tells Shand he really rather wouldn't hear about their past... Adventures and any future ones she could think up and plan.

"But I see your point. I'll see what I can do about Dolan for you, but you may have to give it a few days for this thing with Kynton to blow over. I'll give you our usual signal once things are set to go. Just don't do anything stupid with the freedom I get you."

Their usual signal: Dark'N'Stormy. Any time Trita slides one to him at the bar, they both are caught up, on the same page, a silent message passed between them, a green light for something. It's gotten to the point that Dolan thinks it's one of Shand's favorite drinks and Trita knows so she has it ready every now and then... Or he's aware it's a signal but is playing dumb. Could be either or both, but neither plans to question him. No need to drag him into this.

"I think what we need is to get people back out on the streets and listening for a bit, see if there's any new information. I refuse to send an attack squad without better knowledge of situations. I saw you sent Eidolon and Ploy out, but I think we should give them a list of targets that will keep them busy for a bit. If anything major arises, send Axel and Hito whenever he's here. I'll send him back to some of the local houses to listen in to what the ladies have heard. Not that he'll complain about that of course..."

Her brain is in full planning and tactician mode now. She's missed it, hasn't been able to think like this since Shand was carted off, everything being on the defensive for so long now.

"We could also talk to Yvaine. Believe the fortunes she tells or not, she's still very connected with the information channels. Last I heard her old shop was closed down but she's taken up residence in The Colonial on third. Love to see how those big horns of hers are holding up in a hotel room."

Shand nods slowly, considering, letting the absinthe bottle sit beside him, leaning forward with his elbow propped up on his knee and his chin in his hand. Outside, he can hear the final song fading and the speakers dying and the speakeasy transitioning into daytime mode.

"Okay. I️ hear what you're saying about intelligence before attack. But I️ still don't want our every resource on digging up dirt and putting ears to the ground. I️ want more people back on regular operations, too."

Shand juts his chin up at the betting boards, the chalk writing over them faded as if they haven't been touched, to be cleaned or written on or otherwise, for months.

"The Wolves think they have us because we've eased off the racing scene, we're not striking back against them, the lot of it. I️ want us striking back. Hits they have planned, bang up jobs and snatches. I️ want us there first. Not necessarily to attack, but I️ want them to have to come through us to do any business at all. Remind them that the only way they survive in this town is if we give them permission to."

He leans back with a deep breath. God, he's missed this, too. Him and Trita in this room, setting up the proverbial chessboard and not leaving until they have a coordinated, sudden, vicious attack on the king. Throwing back some absinthe together.

"They've been everywhere I️ turn since I️ got out. Now I️ want us to be everywhere they turn, too."

In a lot of ways, the time and the effort spent in this room is motivated by protecting their own king. But it's become more than that over the years. Shand and Trita both know they thrive off this, off this life. Shand had felt slightly guilty for perpetuating it all those years ago when his father had decided to go clean, but here they were. So apparently he'd made the right choice.

"I️ didn't go to jail for nothing. I️ want them to know there's a reckoning coming. Retribution. See it a long ways off, like a storm moving in. For enough time that they know what's coming and know they can't escape it. And then, out of nowhere," Shand snaps his fingers. "Rain. And the thunder."

He pulls from his cigarette, holding in the smoke for a while before blowing it out slowly. He lets the thing dangle between his lips. There is a haze of smoke that hangs over this portion of the room that makes him nostalgic for the days that he and Trita spent most of the closing shift in here, strategizing about how to rule their world.

"Let's go and see Yvaine tomorrow? I'll make up some excuse about bootleg business and Axel can cover the bar again. Since he's getting so good at it and all."

Shand holds back a laugh, always reveling in an opportunity to poke at her. She may be doing his dad, but in his mind, she's like an older sister.