Just a Nightcap ((7))

[havlockvhett]

Franz had tried sleeping. He'd given it twenty solid minutes of staring blankly at a badly stucco'd ceiling before sliding into the day's shed clothing and stepping out to meet the night life. Nothing to dress up, just the same charcoal business suit he'd came in, tie fully done up and cuff links stubbornly unremarkable. He wasn't interested in attracting company, not even for a quick whirl around the dance floor. Tonight, all the night life he wanted was a band with a bit more crone than swing and a couple of shots of something that could burn enough to quiet the voices in his head. The ones that were saying he wasn't here for Robert, not really, it was just moving up and onwards like always. The voices that argued back that of course he was, that of course he was heartbroken. Ach. Shut them all up.

The speakeasy was nice, subtle. Just what he'd been looking for. Claiming a stool at the end of the (really beautiful, Robert would have loved it) bar he took a chance and ordered the local special. Sure, he wanted a quiet night, but that didn't mean he was dead.

[victoriousscarf]

Bustopher Jones adjusted his red lapel flower as he made his way down the stairs. All business for the night had been taken care of, and he wanted to spend some time among his patrons. He did not nearly get enough time to do that, especially lately, between one terribly ungrateful nephew and his other... business endeavors. He enjoyed being able to come to his first club and savor the atmosphere he had so carefully cultivated.

Nodding to the barkeep, he glanced along the bar, spotting a new cat he had never seen before. It was a rather slow night, and after waving to a few regulars, and carrying on a quick, cordial conversation with an old friend, he placed himself at the bar, near the new cat. "Welcome to the Palace," he said. "I do not think I have seen you here before."

[havlockvhett]

Franz's ears twitched, settling to a half-quizzical tilt at, well the fattest cat he'd ever seen. But somehow he had to press down the urge to fuss with his less-than-fully-starched cuffs and slightly rumpled tie. Fat he may be, but the cat was certainly neat, and with a flower pretty enough to make his fingers itch.

"Thank you." There was an air of power about the man that flicked his Superior Officer switches. "Just arrived in town, on business." Expensively dressed, making the rounds of the bar, knows new faces on sight and he isn't the bartender. There were worse guesses to make. "You've got a nice joint, classy."

[victoriousscarf]

Jones smiled at him. "Why thank you," he replied, in regards to the compliment to his speakeasy. He did not even ask how the other knew he was the owner--he figured it was more than obvious. "I try my best to cater to the right tastes. And what sort of business do you have in our Felidae? Good, I hope." He smoothed his headfur down, even though every strand was already impeccably in place.

[havlockvhett]

A fussy fat cat, it almost made him smile. No, not fussy, dapper. It was almost charming, like those little china dogs with too-wide eyes that Lizzie liked so much. Too ridiculous for belief, but strangely cute in their deformity.

Franz shook his head solemnly. "I'm afraid not." Speakeasies weren't the places to discuss business, and not even the personal when you were traveling, especially in his line of work. And as much as he could agree with their defiance of the liquor ban, he knew all to well that one criminal enterprise, more often than not, led to more. Led to bombings and murders and telegrams at three am and curious hollow feelings that followed you acrossed state lines, the way the glow of good company never had.

He stared at his drink for a long moment, measuring carefully how much to unburden. "My local contacts have been less than cooperative, it's going to make my job much more difficult. My employers will be...displeased at the delay."

[victoriousscarf]

Jones nodded. He understood the idea, though often he was the employer being displeased. "Contracts in Felidae can be a tricky business," he said, nodding at the bartender, who quickly enough brought his favorite drink. Ah, good service. What would he do without it?

"Hopefully they have not been too bad," he said, thinking of that annoying Commissioner, who was still refusing to talk to him after their somewhat disastrous conversation the other day. Really, must that cat be so dense? "It is a terrible fate to have obtuse contacts."

[havlockvhett]

Franz snorted in exasperated agreement. "Obtuse is a delicate way of putting it. I think you'd have to smack the man with an Opera House for him to get anything resembling a clue." Irritated at himself for dwelling he waved away his comment. "Please, excuse me. I'm afraid coach doesn't agree with me and my meeting didn't go well. I shouldn't impinge on the kindness of a stranger."

[victoriousscarf]

Jones rolled one shoulder. On someone less round it might have been a shrug. "It is hardly impinging. I was the one to inquire after all. This is a speakesay, where else would you go to find a willing ear to listen to your troubles?" He did not even bother to address the terror that was couch.

"I believe I know a man rather similar to the one you describe. Most annoying fellow. Very insulting no less. It is quite a bother to try and get anything done around him. But that is why we have places like this, is it not? To relax, find a willing ear, and enjoy the atmosphere."

[havlockvhett]

That earned a twitch of Franz's lip, the ghost of a weak and weary smile. "I do believe you are correct. In fact, I think it calls for a toast." Not nearly buzzed enough to be doing this, Franz forced himself to anyway. Onwards and upwards, through the clouds and too the sun. Force a little cheer and you'd catch it eventually. "To fine establishments such as this, and their fine proprietor's who cater to our ills, be they a touch of being parched or the soul strain of pushing boulders up mountains unconquerable."

Franz drank deeply, amused that at least the local special was useful. Burn and distraction with a spritz of something like lime, exactly what the doctor ordered.

[victoriousscarf]

Jones' smile was perhaps a little more smug than it should have been, and a touch too arrogant. "Rather," he said, raising his own glass and nodding to the bartender to refill both of their drinks. "How long do you think you will be in Felidae?"

[havlockvhett]

Watching the other cat preen was almost as much fun as watching him fuss. Walked that same line of offensively nauseating and only managing to save itself through sheer, blind luck. A cat had to respect luck though, you couldn't pull through without it. A cat also had to respect a gent that bought him a drink, that kind of night or not. Besides, he was getting special attention from the host himself, yes an obviously slow night, but when a cat was down it didn't hurt to look on the bright side.

"Not an inkling. I'd hope to wrap up my business within a week, but it looks like circumstances are going to conspire against a neat timeline." He grimaced. "Though I'm not sure I can survive that long in my rooms." He spread his paws out imploringly. "They couldn't even pull of stucco! It's stucco! Sublimated violence via brush and paint. I didn't know it was possible to make stucco look worse than moldy cheese!"

[victoriousscarf]

Jones' eyes widened in sympathy. "Where on earth are you staying?" he asked, totally aghast. "What terrible sort of a establishment is it? Clearly not one deserving of business." He paused to consider. "I would recommend the Demoniaque, if you can manage it. It is perhaps the best hotel in town at the moment. If nothing else, it is worth going into just for the decor." He took a sip of his drink. He thought more about what the other had said. Time tables had a way of being destroyed after all. "Well, if you are in need of any help around town, I am more than willing to give you any pointers or information you might need that I would have access too." Even if he was not supposed to have access to it, his spy network was amazingly vast and through. Not that the other cat needed to know that...

[havlockvhett]

"The establishment that fits the budget of a man with cheap employers." Known in other locales as cheap Pinkerton agents. Franz extended his paw, "I appreciate the offer, I've got a feeling I'll be taking it up in the next few days." His smile was professional, but it was more of an effort that he'd even considered putting in tonight. "It's a weight off my mind to know that this city is completely populated by obstructionist boors."

[victoriousscarf]

Jones nodded. "It is rather helpful when coming to a new city to have access to some helpful cats. I do try to make sure there is at least one running around in town. If you do ever require anything, I can often be found here."

[havlockvhett]

Franz used his drink to buy himself a long pause. Instincts were good, had saved his life over and over again, but he'd sworn after London to never let the first meeting at a bar drag out his name. "I'll have to owe you one for that, Sir."