bourbon buzz ✬ novak&enzo

[Deleted]

l o r e n z o   e m b e r s t a t t

He and Jimmy had been at the Country Club's bar for a solid night already, four shots deep into a good time. The two had practically evolved into giggling gits, finding every word out their mouths to be utter brilliance. Punchlines of prophecies, Lorenzo could hardly keep his focus on the game of pool he found himself in, losing miserably as he often does.

"Who made this bullshit game anyways?! When I said I was good with some balls-"

"Shut up! Go ahead and shut up for me!" Jimmy cuts him off, striking the cue ball against lavender #6, clearing yet another point. Enzo had gotten used to playin' the classics and losing, he just played for the banter and the drinks at this point. Keeks and her plus one both dipped while the night was young, hardly an hour into it before admitting they weren't up for drinking. Laaame, but he ain't tease 'em too hard, at least they knew to be lame at the house instead of the bar. 

You see, Lorenzo was set out to travel again soon. It'd been a while since he stepped out of District 10, just taking a quick trip to his neighbor 11 back in the days of the County Fair. Back when he was seeing little miss Sofia, cute as a button she was, he wasn't ready to commit to anything like that, not long distance, not again. Instead, Enzo had a booked train ticket shipping him off to 2 at 2 tomorrow afternoon. He'd spent the whole week packing and making phone calls making sure the trip would be put together. 

Truth be told, he didn't care much 'bout the industry changes. That was the whole reason of him going out anyways, listening to some seminar about the changes in Panem - no clue why he of all people was chosen, but it was an excuse to see Eon Renner and he'd surely take it. 

Just as he'd take that 5th shot, smooth with a bitter aftertaste. 

Jimmy scores the last cue and Enzo slow claps for his roommate as they chalk up the score. Sure 'nuff, Enzo got swept, and he got swept hard. "I'm done playin' with you, Jim!" He shouts out, keeping his balance on the pool table, "hey, isn't my fault you got the aim of a toothless mule." 

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Lorenzo scouts and can't believe his eyes at first, looking for his next round and landing on none other than Adrian Novak. Political enemy, the first man to beat out the Emberstatts in an election since the 60's, and he doesn't shy away from a bitter rivalry. "AYE, NOVAK!" Lorenzo shouts out, cupping his hands to make sure his voice travels to the man at the bar. Adrian slow turns towards him, swiveling on the bar stool, letting Enzo get a better look at him. 

That's him alright, no mistaking. 

He waves for him to come over, signaling to meet him at the pool table, "care for an ass kickin'?" 

[MATTIO]

a d r i a n    n o v a k

You dress like an old-fashioned cowboy when it's time to perform the traditional duties of mayor. On very few occasions, usually at the request of the Capitol or your liaison, you dress formally in a suit and without a cowboy hat or leather boots. Dress for the people you're trying to impress, and don't care about anyone else, right? District Ten wants you to be calm and relaxed with flashes of country and denim. The Capitol wants you to be uniform, with a tie like an illusion of the leash they think they have you on. But there's a third part of you that only your most powerful allies, or your greatest enemies, are allowed to see. That, of course, is your mean streak. Long black coat, slim and dark grey pants, and black boots with built-in platforms to boost your height by a couple of inches. Being tall is statistically proven by your aids to have a positive effect on if people believe what you say. And that's the intention: to make people believe you when you tell them that you won't be nice the next time they push your temper. Most people will take your word for it. If they don't, you can roll up your sleeves to show off brass knuckles that'll make them listen.

Tonight, you're prepared for a punch of promise at the saloon for Merritt, one of the gentlemen who has given some of your boots on the ground reason to believe he'll expose you for the stock of guns down in the basement of one of Elio's homes. He's more than welcome to wipe his hands clean of the gang if he really wants to. You're not going to stop him if he wants to miss out on your protecting hand in an increasingly unruly district and country. What he won't do, however, is play the spoiler in your plans. That makes Merritt a threat that needs to be handled. Hopefully, he'll listen and back down. Your single protection detail opens the bar door for you and lets you walk in first, hands behind your back to examine the room. "Go get a drink, Antoine. You can put it on my tab. I'll be in the back speaking to our friend." Antoine takes a seat at the bar, and you move toward the back room.

"AYE, NOVAK!"

Damn it. You stop, just a few steps away from the back when the voice calls out to you. It's frustrating beyond belief when someone disrupts your plans. You're smiling as you turn to greet them, though it's clear to anyone who can see that you're biting your tongue as if frustrated by the disturbance.

"Care for an ass kickin?"

Emberstatt. Great. You've done your best to steer clear of them save for official business like big mayoral events or the Reapings. Lorenzo, though, is among those that you fear the least. You turn halfway towards the back room again, where a frail and frightened face pokes out to see if the shouts were true. Merritt, of course, spots you. You give him a look and flash the brass around your hands, don't go anywhere. He pulls himself back in and you let out a chuckle. If he's scared shitless, he'll stay put.

You move toward the pool table where Enzo is leaning, undoing the latches on your knuckles and shuffling the brass into your coat's pockets. "Sure, why not." I grab a stick from the boards on the wall. "It would be rude of me to turn down an invitation from an Emberstatt such as yourself."

You shoot him a lie of a smile. It's just a courtesy match. "I beat one before, I'll do it again."

[Deleted]

l o r e n z o   e m b e r s t a t t

"It would be rude of me to turn down an invite from an Emberstatt such as yourself," Novak says, which pulls a smile out from Lorenzo. He's always been easy to buy out, a compliment or a little recognition going a long way - especially when he's drunk. Flattery will get you everywhere, Enzo'll admit. Perhaps he should expect that from a politician such as Novak, as spineless as he is. There were suspicions floating around this man's election; how on earth did someone no one knew of take down Kieran so adequately? Something like a secret followed Novak, and Enzo needed to know what.

Still, he grinned ear to ear as Adrian teases. "I beat one before, I'll do it again."

He turns to Jimmy, did you hear that? plastered in the way he raises his eyebrow to his roommate. Get a load of this guy, he sucks his spit and swallows, landing his gaze back on Novak. "Fair game then," he'd have to make sure to put half an effort into this round. This wasn't some practice round with Jimmy, he wanted to make Novak eat it. 

"Woah, woah, woah," he says, halting Novak in his advances with a cue stick in hand, "ain't you just get here? You goin' to play sober?" Lorenzo asks without hesitation, sizing up the district mayor. Why's he even here? Not to drink, thought didn't even seem to cross his mind, but Enzo busies himself with the task.

"Here," he says, slinking past the pool table and heading back to the bar counter, banging his fist on its surface twice in a signal. Without missing a beat, the bartender slides another shot of whiskey and slides it into the palm of Lorenzo. He makes his way back to Novak, tipping his hand in his, "drink." Take the shot, Lorenzo challenges, expectedly. That's how you tell a boy from a man: how well they can shoot a whiskey. 

As he brushes past the big guy, Enzo begins setting up for the match of pool, waiting to hear the satisfaction of Novak's empty shot glass clinking on the table's surface. He straightens out all fifteen balls, the pyramid marker shifting them all into shape. When he looks up, Adrian's done drank the shot and he clutches his pool stick in anticipation. "Well, let's get her done then," he says with an accompanying smirk. 

[ pool match ]
QAn5PnW3BD1-20
[ 13: +1 ball ]

[1-9; miss. 10-17; 1 ball. 18-19; 2 balls. 20; 3 balls]

Lorenzo froze after making his first strike, unsure of what he had even aimed for to start. Luckily enough, the ricochet of the white cue sent the red #7 into the hole in front of Novak's hand. His balance waivered, but his grin never did, whiskey probably at the root cause for both. "Lucky shot," he says with jest towards Mayor Novak. 

1-20

[MATTIO]

a d r i a n    n o v a k

You wait for Lorenzo to make the first move. The moment you stepped away from the back room, the expectations of what's presentable and acceptable as your role shifts. You're compliant now, courteous. You push up against the pool table as an older woman tries to squeeze by you to get to the bar. The transition from the man to gentleman requires a whole set of party tricks in different shades. Why, exactly, a mayor needs to be an executive and entertainer at the same time perplexes you. The power is just too enabling to pass up.

Enzo refuses to let you start the game without a drink first. He's already halfway to the tender before you can start to politely refuse. You love Ten's homebrewed drinks, but once you got a bottle of wine from the Capitol as a mayoral welcoming gift, it's been hard to transition back to the twang of Ten. You notice how Lorenzo's comfortable and familiar with this environment, well-connected with the bartender and some of the local patrons of the saloon. Lovely how someone can find a home drowning themselves with a beer. He asks– well, commands– you to drink. Bottoms up, you take the whiskey, tapping on the edge of the barstool to signal to Antoine that you want some water in a short while.

You place the empty shot down on the table and start to tap on the glass as Lorenzo begins to make his first shot of the game. It's not hard to see that he's a little out of it as he aims for the cue ball, but nevertheless, his confidence doesn't seem to falter. Straight away, he sinks the red ball into the corner where you rest. "Lucky shot," he says as you both begin to swap places around the table.

"No such thing as luck in a game like this, Lorenzo. Just skill," you rest your chin on the top of your stick as you size up the map. "Success is all by design."

When everything turns into a double life, it can feel more like faking it until you make it. You ready your shot, balancing your stick barely above the green fabric of the table. One… two… Shoot.

6NQQBROtTQ1-20
[+3 balls]

"Yellow and blue." You call out as soon as the point of your stick taps the cue ball. You know what you want and know what it takes to get it. The white ball bounces from wall to wall before splitting the yellow and blue stripes apart. Blue lands in the corner opposite of you while yellow slots into the middle hole across from Enzo. "And green, too, what the hell." Your next shot is easy and clean to slot the green-striped ball down the table and into a corner slot. Without a clear next target in your sights, you play the cue ball into a more difficult spot for Enzo to get anything off of.

Three in one round. You chuckle to yourself, enjoying the lead while it lasts. "All skill, remember?"

1-20

[Deleted]

l o r e n z o   e m b e r s t a t t

"Success is by design" he says, and Enzo just sips his whiskey and watches as Mayor Novak knocks three balls in one go.

"Sonuvabitch!"

He sure was something else, showing Lorenzo how it's done so early. Enzo's always been a cocky son of a gun, but he sure got humbled quick, watching as Novak collects his three from out of the cabinets of the pool table. Really, he should be used to losing by now, he was proud enough to get the one ball in and a sense of defeat washes over him as he realizes what he's up against. He places a hand on his hip and considers the state of the match before taking the pool stick from Novak himself. "All skill, remember?"

"So you're just secretly great at pool? And wasn't gonna tell anyone?" He jests in disbelief, this ass whooping is gonna hurt. If success is by design, Lorenzo's drawing with both hands tied behind his back here. "I'm not giving up though, you hear me?" Enzo says, pointing with the whiskey glass in hand, eye to eye, man to man. He shudders before taking a sip of the liquor, second hand chills from witnessing Novak chug a glass worth. 

They swap spots, Enzo back at the helm of the table and eyeing up what's left of the board. The orange twins sit close enough that he might be able to snag both, though he could just as easily fumble. He looks from the board to Novak and back to the board before briefly sighing. You got this! "You know, I usually lose at this game, but I think the whiskey'll make a difference," he says with a wink. 

Cue stick in hand, he lines up his shot with one eye closed. 

0HBOdm11fV1-20
[ 20: +3 balls ]

[1-9; miss. 10-17; 1 ball. 18-19; 2 balls. 20; 3 balls]

With Lady Luck in his back pocket, Lorenzo strikes the bright orange ball staring up at him. It smacks into its sister, the 3 which lands in the pocket as planned. This part was unexpected, his orange ball ricocheting across the table and taking both itself and a third ball into the back right. For a second he looks at the table in disbelief, rubbing his forehead wondering if he knocked the black ball in on accident - nope, all clear. 

"I don't think I could do that again if I tried," he says to Novak after a second's hesitation. Still in awe of his round, he passes the cue stick on in favor of a sip of his whiskey. Maybe you're my good luck charm, ole whiskey. 

1-20

[MATTIO]

a d r i a n    n o v a k

It's gotta be the buzz that's making Enzo so cheery despite getting his ass beat after the first round. You lean over the table as he takes a sip of his whiskey, declaring that he's not out of it yet. Funny how he talks to you about secrets. You have enough of those to give any citizen in Ten an ulcer. The kid you made, the people you've hurt, the plans you have to do nothing but smile and cut ribbons as if you did.

As Emberstatt gets ready to line up his shot, you take a step back and give him space. The whiskey'll help him, he says, and it sure does as he sticks the tip of his tongue out for precision and takes the shot. It fires off, bouncing from side to side, the perfect storm as ball after ball of his makes its way into the pockets. "I don't think I could do that again if I tried," he says as you're both staring at the balls left on the field. A couple of the other patrons have started to watch your contest with the quell phenom. You clap slowly after his turn concludes, half because it's a spectacle and half because you're actually impressed.

You toss the cue stick lightly in the air and catch it higher up. "Slow your roll there, buddy. The quicker we finish, the sooner I'll have to get a move on," you say, playfully of course. It's your hope that you win because the loser has to buy the winner's drinks for the night. Judging by Enzo's attitude on whiskey, he'll probably be here drinking for a lot longer than you have time for. Your eyes click to the back room just before you line your shot toward the corner pocket. Mr. Merritt better not have taken the back exit. More importantly, this better not be some sort of stalling scheme. Retaining focus, you ready your strike, flicking the wrist and sending the cue ball forward.

EFzOf9Vepa1-20
[ 1-5 is 0 balls, 6-11 is 1 ball, 12-18 is 2 balls, 19-20 is 3 balls]

Fuck. Just as you're shooting, the backroom door swings open and grabs your focus. The cue ball bounces just shy of the target. You let out an embarrassed chuckle and scratch the back of your head. You've never been happy losing, even in a meaningless game such as this. It's a sign of failure, something you're not supposed to get a sniff of. "See? I'm all in on savorin' this moment." A nice gesture, a lie, and an excuse all tied into one sentence.

1-20

[Deleted]

l o r e n z o   e m b e r s t a t t

For a second, Novak gives the impression like he's having a good time, and it's nice to know he's not an asshole at least. He could'a easily pulled the mayor card, huff off saying he's got no time for this and the like but he takes the pool stick from Enzo nevertheless. It's hard to build a proper first impression, for as much as he understands politics, all the mudslinging and turf wars made things a little more complicated. There's a glimpse he takes where he tries to see Novak for what he is, and the mayor whiffs the ball entirely as Enzo does so. 

"Nice," he scoffs, grinning at the sight of his opponent stumbles. 

Good for me! That's what matters. No matter what, Enzo'll always prioritize a win where he can get it, competitive by nurture more so nature. The roughest part of living in an orphanage was the other kids, and he still wound up with more siblins than he knows what to do with. Mace and Saff gave him a good life though, he wears his pride on his puffed out chest as he carries himself through life. "See? I'm all in on savorin' this moment," says Novak, met curtly with a scoff from Enzo. 

"Sure thing, boss!" He speaks and the smile follows naturally - whatever you say! Enzo likes to imagine Novak covering his ass, playing off the fumble of a turn before letting him back at the helm of the table. He paces at first, checking a few angles before narrowing his eyes in on the remaining blue ball. The table was thinning out quick, it's a good thing Novak slowed down. 

All the more for me.

YXuOc1F9OP1-20
[ +1 ]

[1-5; miss, 6-11; +1, 12-18; +2, 19-20; +3]

"Hey, I'll take it," as a wise man, Marlboro, once said, any hole is a goal. Lorenzo pockets his one ball with pride before assessing a quick head count. He had the lead, for however long that lasted, but he'd surely let it feed his ego while he held it. "Where do you have to go off to anyways? I think- hmm," he ponders for a second before he decides not to pry in other people's business. He's learned that lesson by now, right? "I think we need a second round of drinks, what do ya think?" He says, holding onto the cue stick as he awaits Novak's response. 

"Up to you!" 

1-20

[MATTIO]

a d r i a n    n o v a k

Tricky fucker. Enzo nods along as you sweat off your struggles, elbows leaning back against the bar's brick accent wall. "Sure thing, boss!" You smile cheekily. That's what Elio taught you to do when you lose, smile n' lie. Success is in your blood. Failure, on the other hand, is like a parasite desperate to latch onto you. You're a good host prospect as mayor. Oh, what will failure do to you if it overstays its welcome? Not over a game of pool per se, but an election, or perhaps when the Capitol tries to interrupt your ventures elsewhere?

It's getting too warm. You undo the buckle on your coat and fold it neatly over your chair. An excited Enzo stands over the shot, knocking a pair of balls in with his turn. He's only got one ball left to sink before the eight ball. You have five to go if you include the eight. "Where do you have to go off to, anyways?" He proposes another round of drinks to keep you around the table. You hold off on responding for a moment. You were taught as a little boy: politicians will never tell a lie, but they also never tell the truth.

You twirl the cue stick, trying to piece together enough of an answer that it won't leave people prying. So, a nonanswer. You shrug. "Not anywhere important, bud. I was thinking of visiting a friend, but I don't see them around tonight." There's something scandalous about the way you speak to Enzo. Elio might scold you for fraternizing with the enemy. But he's not your master, he's not even your real uncle. You hold the dollar bills above his head now, not the other way around. Who needs to be the head of a faction when you're head of the district? Whether it's an Emberstatt or the newly strengthened Searley line, you feel emboldened. Novak is a scrappy legacy, new money in the field. It's the old guns that make your spirit fire up and your heart beat faster.

You send the white ball flying, and the color in your eyes flickers past your opponent all the while. Maybe it's in healthy faith to take a loss.

lYXFHcmtt01-20
[ 1-5 is 0 balls, 6-11 is 1 ball, 12-18 is 2 balls, 19-20 is 3 balls]
[ +2 ]

"Well, well, well!" You say, cutting your deficit in half. Despite the distraction across the table, you slot a pair of balls in two turns, both on either side of where Enzo's standing. "Back in it."

You drag the stick around the table, your other hand glossing over the green fabric of the game. You stop beside Enzo. "And yes, to another round of drinks. It would be rude to say no to such an offer."

1-20

[Deleted]

l o r e n z o   e m b e r s t a t t

"Not anywhere important, bud."

Bud.

That's funny. Enzo watches as Mayor Novak nails another two down, tightening his lead. Not entirely, but close enough to make Enzo's confidence waiver; that's alright, he didn't go into this thinking he'd really win. It's all in good fun, and to test out what Novak is made of. He had to introduce himself eventually, surely this works better for him than something formal. He was so tired of the formalities, he'd much rather make a tipsy first impression and get away with it. 

And sure enough, it seemed he would. Bud, he half expected Novak to dislike him for some reason, but as the game continues the more enjoyable it gets. Talking to a politician is always one trick after another, a match of words and Enzo wonder's if he's already lost by liking this. "Oh? Who are you waiting for? Maybe I know 'em," he knows half the locals and the other half at least know of him. It'd be interesting to see what company a man like Novak keeps too. 

If only Jimmy stuck around, then they'd be able to get up to some fun. Enzo collects both balls from the pocket to his left and his right, sucking the spit out of his teeth as he looks over what's left of the pool match. He can knock this out in two turns, three with the 8ball - it's all a matter of skill. 

"Sweet!" He pipes up after Novak agrees to another round of drinks, grabbing the cue stick from him before going, "quick intermission after this, be back in five or I win by default." 

wXpUFz6FWJ1-20
[ +2 ]

[1-5; miss, 6-11; +1, 12-18; +2, 19-20; +3]

Perfect, another two to his tally. Slowly the stripes were leaving the field, all left being the single orange 13. He always tried to save it for last if he's got it, that unlucky number. He beams a grin at Novak that says haha, I'm doing better than you, before leaving to the bar once more. The bartender's always the same, an old man with a missing bottom tooth to the left, "two whiskeys," he asks first. 

He sits and waits for the glasses to clink on the counter before he motions Alfred back over, closer, "so what do you think of ole Novak?" 

1-20

[MATTIO]

a d r i a n    n o v a k

"Oh? Who are you waiting for? Maybe I know 'em." You shrug his off as if you never even heard it. It's hard to gather whether Enzo is tipsy or if he's trying to line you up hook line and sinker for some information. What a toxic trait you have, to assume that everyone who breathes in your vicinity is out to get you. That's paranoia. It leaves your eyes darting to windows and the cracks beneath your door at night, wondering when someone's going to decide your power trip should come to an end. He's not sinister enough for that, surely. You keep a smile as he agrees to get the drinks after his shot. Lo and behold, he downs the final two balls he needs, with just the 8 left for him on the board. You're so far behind, you debate not even trying with your next shot.

Enzo's got a mischievous grin on his face like he just won the whole potluck to himself. You want to teach him a lesson, warn him not to cross you even if your relationship seems amicable at the moment. He wanders off to Albert behind the bar to grab a few more whiskeys to share. You drag your stick around the table, trying to decide upon the best angle. You have three balls left, plus the eight. That's a much taller mountain to climb.

You hover over the eight ball. Let's just get this over with, shall we? You watch Enzo mouth off something with Albert as he waits at the stool for the bottles. Temptations of knocking in the remaining balls with your fingers crosses your mind. Heh. You're not a cheater, Novak. Never in a million years would you do such a thing to win a silly game. Albert's staring at you, close to Enzo's ear. They're whispering about you, obviously. Either Enzo's talking about how sexy you are or he's plotting your assassination. Not sure which is more likely, though.

Hey– play nice. Embers and the Lowes may not hold the mayorship, but they're powerful as hell in District Ten still. You're the first to remind people of that. It's why you gave one of 'em a spot in your cabinet. Make them feel good.

You do just that again, marking your shot a little to the left. Miss on purpose and let Enzo win the game. You shoot the cue ball at an angle that blasts the walls and eventually pokes the eight ball at just the right angle that it slides down the wall and into the corner pocket. "Well, shit." You facepalm, perhaps a bit too dramatically, at your purposeful loss. Adrian Novak does not lose on accident. Only on purpose. To reel people like Enzo Emberstatt in. "Guess you won there, Enzo."

You join him and Albert at the front of the bar, flicking an extra one of your balls into the slot on your way. "I got a little too aggressive there and sunk the eight. Congrats on your win," you pat him on the back and take the stool beside Enzo. You pull a twenty out of your back pocket and hand it over to the bartender. "I enjoyed that, bud. I'm a big fan of games like pool." You're a fan of mind games. You play them on everyone, including yourself, every second of every day.

You give Antoine a thumbs up, his cue that he can leave if he wants. Safe and comfortable, dealing with a fucker like Merritt can wait a few more days. The whiskey won't make you any more rational tonight. "Are you big on games, Enzo?"

[Deleted]

l o r e n z o   e m b e r s t a t t

There's a pep to his step as Lorenzo returns back to the pool table, two whiskeys in hand. One for himself, one for the opposition - truthfully, he's got Novak right where he wants him. All that's left is the 8ball and the straight shot it'll take to win. He wasn't expecting to clutch it at all; in fact, he expected his mayor would demolish the match with ease. Goes to show luck and skill go hand and hand, and Lorenzo's always been a favorite of Lady Luck's. 

It's with surprise that Novak sinks it, the 8ball, right as Lorenzo finds himself back at the table. Mayor Novak's "well shit," is met with a chuckle and a shit eating grin. "Guess you won there, Enzo," he says, and it feels so nice to hear it come out his mouth. +1 Emberstatt, a small victory compared to the loss of the office last election, but he'll take it. "I guess I did!" Half as shocked that as won as he is that Novak blundered right at the end, perhaps it's just the whiskey getting to him. Still, Enzo passes the second round, outstretched over the pool table. 

Novak congratulates Enzo on the victory, explaining his strategy enough to convince the both of them. "Hey that's okay, we can't all win," Lorenzo with his greed goes for it every time. "I'm in here often enough, I'm sure there'll be a next time," what's better than beating Novak once than beating him twice? A bit of him takes pride in the fact that he had the mayor backed into a corner - with all them politician smarts he has, Lorenzo was still able to force a fatal misplay. Nice,

I've still got it! 

Stuck in his ego, Lorenzo's none the wiser to his surroundings. He sips his whiskey and looks to the bartender, wiggling his eyebrows before side eyeing Mr. Novak. That's right, I won, The mayor mentions his love for bar games, and Lorenzo can't agree more, "I love 'em too, especially when I'm winning." Honest as a fool, he looks back to him, a man he can't quite figure out. He's interesting for sure, are you big on games? Now why does that feel like a loaded question? 

"Well, I'm great at strip poker," he says, hiding his smirk behind the whiskey glass but he doesn't look away. If there's anything he's after, it's a reaction. "Don't suppose you play, huh?" He offers as an easy out. Poker's a different beast entirely; by great, it's to be understood that he's only good at taking his clothes off. Lorenzo's always been a terrible, terrible liar. 

[MATTIO]

a d r i a n    n o v a k

One of your favorite tricks is making people feel like they were the ones who caused something good to happen. It was because of their hard work and determination that the operation was a success. Their letter convinced the cabinet to agree to do public maintenance somewhere in the district. And Enzo, he feels that his skill was what brought him to victory. Some of the patrons clap and cheer each time he mentions his victory. That must make Enzo feel good. For you, that's mostly the post. Having people feel like they're effective, skillful, and most importantly, in control, is the best way you've learned to keep them at bay. You'd be lying if part of you didn't find some joy in Enzo's positive demeanor, though.

Enzo leans down behind his whiskey glass as if the volume of his voice can be hidden by the discreteness of a shot glass. "Well, I'm great at strip poker." A few of the people in the bar turn their heads at the comment. "Don't suppose you play, huh?" You lean back against the bar and turn your head outward to the people doing their best to pretend that they're not eavesdropping. They want to know the answer just as much as Enzo. For the first time, being put on the spot like this leaves you somewhat embarrassed.

Quick on your feet, you turn yourself back towards Enzo. Never lie, but never tell the truth. You speak with a light-hearted tone. "Strip poker? What an inappropriate question to ask a politician who's surrounded by so many lovely citizens of his district!" You're sure most of them are too drunk to care if you did or not, but it's better to be safe than sorry. Spies of political enemies and of your allies could be here, waiting for just the right time to strike and expose you as some sort of sexual machine.

As soon as the other patrons begin to turn away, you shoot a smirk at Enzo. You prop your elbow up against the counter and rest the side of your head in your palm. You twirl your glass, whispering in Enzo's direction. "Just thought I'd save you from the jealous looks. I'm sure there are a lot of people here who'd kill to play strip poker with the likes of Adrian Novak." You've been absorbed in your own arrogance for longer than a decade. After finishing up the whiskey, you move back to your original seat and grab your long coat. You make your rounds, telling everyone who's conscious to have a good rest of their evening. Antoine handles the backroom at your signal.

The last person to say goodbye to is Enzo. You pat him on the back, perhaps one too many times, and then leave the hand there, sinking. "I'm on my way out, Enzo. This was fun, but I've gotta head back home." You get within earshot of only your new buddy. "Got a strip poker game to play up there."

Will he join you? You're not sure, but is it bad that you sort of hope he does?

[Deleted]

l o r e n z o   e m b e r s t a t t

Between his recent victory, the couple shots of whiskey and making Mayor Novak think on his feet, there's a gratified glow emanating from Lorenzo himself. Everything's going right, just as he planned, which is crazy because it hardly ever does for him. Call it divine intervention, he chugs the rest of the glass at the bar in celebration to his own good luck. What a good night, if only Jimmy had been here to bare witness, now it's all going to sound like another big tale coming from that lying tongue of his. 

Crazier things have happened. Novak shuts him and his inappropriate question down in front of the crowd and he must admit, a tad disappointing. Not surprising, there's only so much you can fool around with when it comes to Mayors; he's so used to them being family, he's never had an opportunity to push one's buttons like this. It's fun, in a power trip kind of sense, especially for a liberated soul like Lorenzo. Sex comes quick and it comes easy, Novak would just be another notch on the belt, another tally on the bedpost. 

A very enticing one though, imagine the bragging rights. 

"Boooriiing," he jests, waving Al down for one last glass. Seems Enzo isn't going anywhere after all; in all honesty, he had gotten his hopes up. It always starts that way for him, a coy joke that leads itself to a better night for everyone involved. Instead, he'll just take his whiskey and fuck off all the way back home. Still, he doesn't budge and neither does Novak, which is interesting enough. And then the whisper comes, the one he was holding out for.

Jealous looks? This guy sure is full of himself - Enzo respects it. He isn't too different himself, an arrogance like that is self-made, a survival mechanism. He wonders if that's it, if that's what Novak's core is made out of: depravity. He sure is fascinating in the way no one knows anything of his past, only that he showed up and took down that of an Emberstatt. It takes a certain level of audacity Lorenzo loathed at first, but the taste of whiskey guises it as something to be admired. 

Novak goes back to his natural state, schmoozing the lingering citizens of the bar as Lorenzo sits planted with no one but Al and his whiskey. He's finds comfort in the solitude of a good drink, perhaps a bad habit he's picked up the last few years. It's only alcoholism if it becomes a problem. His ears burn when the mayor returns to him; for some reason, he hadn't expected it. Lorenzo placed his bets that Novak would leave with his tail between his legs, but there he is, warm hand on Enzo's back and mouth to his ear. 

"I'm on my way out, Enzo," he starts, and Lorenzo shudders at his deep, whispered voice being so close. He takes one last sip of his whiskey to hide the blush as Novak tells him of the poker match - is that my invitation? Lorenzo thinks to himself as he swivels in the bar chair, just enough to catch a glimpse of Novak's face. 

He's serious. 

"Funny," he says with a smirk, "think I've got a match waiting on me, too." 

Lorenzo says goodbye to Al in the form of a good tip, and waits a few moments before following Mayor Novak out of the bar. 

[ fade to black baby ;) ]