Playing The Game (Loch, Open)

Michel sighed as he looked at his reflection in his bathroom mirror. His small bathroom mirror. Having previously been used to a wardrobe with a full mirror in the door, this fact annoyed him greatly. The Intel had found many little annoyances in his new abode, mainly because it had been a long time since he had nothing. When he had first moved into the bayou as a sixteen year old lad looking to change his fate, he had had nothing but a backpack. Since then he had lived in near luxury, with money to burn. If there was one thing Michel liked to do, that was to spend money. Luckily, he still had plenty of cash in his bank since he had sold everything he owned to his vampiress partner, Layla. Though the dark-skinned gentleman hadn't voiced such concerns to the General, he feared that all his troubles had been instigated by Layla to get him to sell up. Peut-il travaillé pour le mieux. It wasn't that his new apartment was terrible, infact it reminded him of his place in the French Quarter back in New Orleans. Trying again, he focused his attentions on the mirror as he checked out his appearance. Michel had managed to get rid of his stubble, his hair was freshly trimmed and his clothes pristine. "Of with you then my friend", he said to the man in the mirror with a small smile.

The doors to the Lavender Lounge were teaming with life, just like any other Friday night. His leather jacket was wrapped around him tightly against the autumn wind that had threatened to ruin his evening. Michel's sneakers squeeked against the damp pavement as he came to stand infront of the doors. The bouncer welcomed him with a grin and allowed him immediate access. Nigel had worked for him in the past. The music hit him like a wave, a physical barrier that he had to get through to gain access to the club. The gentleman felt comfortable for the first time in weeks; grey jeans with a thick belt hug of his slim hips and a white flannel shirt peaked out of his jacket. Michel walked around for a few minutes, greeting the people he knew and being consolidated for the loss of his business' and being introduced to their friends. Though he liked to have plenty of company, people kepted asking him what he would do now and he wasn't ready to tell them. If he would ever. He knew he would just come up with a cover story as he had in New Orleans. Maybe I retired, he thought with a grin. Sitting by the glass topped bar he ordered himself a vodka shot (which he necked staight away) and a Brandy and Coke. The alcohol felt warm as it went down but did little to quieten his thoughts. Sighing, he took a sip from his glass and stared blankly ahead.



Translation: May it have worked out for the best.