Connections, Money and Secrets [Almaz]

[Jaxen Marveet]

The club was pretty uptight on the inside. Rich enough to drown in the giant piles of money he assumed every man in sight hoarded. “Nice,” he nodded when Mikhail glanced back to gauge his reaction. He might have said “old man making up for limp dicks” instead, but he bit his tongue for now. It wasn’t Jaxen’s usual vibe. If he was going to swim in upper-class snobbery, he wanted to do it where the women were smoking hot, the drinks world-class, and the music loud. Manifesto was his usual pick for that kind of night (and the average age was decades younger). But wood paneling and leather everything? It seemed more like Scion’s speed than Jaxen’s. To his point, he passed a guy who could pass for his father’s age. He looked tough, though. Mafia, Jaxen assumed, and made a note to stay clear of him.

He might have left if not for the crooked finger of hidden secrets luring him to explore. And the company. Mik was shaping up to be more of Jaxen’s style than the club. As they walked, he flicked at the man’s pocket square without actually flicking it. “It’s no leather pants and pirate tunic but you clean up respectable,” he smirked as he said it. The sword was tucked away for the night with the rest of his LARPing outfit.

Ass planted on bar stools and vodka brought, Jaxen swiveled around to survey the room following their toast. But mostly, it was a sausage fest. Not sure more he expected for a fight club, but he was still game. Just had to find the right sport.