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Post by Na'Mira Williams on Jun 29, 2014 22:46:46 GMT -6
 It had taken a while, but Na'Miira had finally managed to find a job in this gods-forsaken city. Despite how many people came through New Orleans, and despite the amount of bars in the Big Easy, it had still taken her over two weeks to find and start a job. It was a good thing she saved most of her money during her time at medical school and rarely treated herself, since the rent and groceries for those two weeks had taken a good chunk of cash.
But she was working now, in a bar located in the District Lounge. Na'Mira had managed to get a jar as a bartender there, a job that required a lot of faking it to make it. It took a lot of trying to please other people, as was evident by the low-cut shirt, high-cut pants, and a fake smile practically painted on her body. But no matter what she was wearing or how she had to act, nothing could take away the swell of pride every time a greasy man with too much Axe pressed ten dollars too many into her hands and took his drink.
If there was one thing Na'Mira enjoyed more than making money, it was taking money from men who took one look at her and felt entitled. All they were ever going to get was a look and maybe a fantasy that they could take home with them, back into their terribly lonely lives, but she... Well now, she was taking their money in by the hundreds. Already, in the week she had worked at the bar, she had over three hundred dollars in tips alone.
Silently, she thanked whatever might be listening for her great tits.
With that thought still on her mind, Na'Mira moved down the line, to the newcomer at the edge of the bar. She plastered the same smile that had been there all night, letting her lips curve upwards. Leaning over the bar, Na'Mira was careful to place her tits just right on the wood, crossing her arms beneath them.
"What can I help you with, darling?"
 W O R D S * 354 ;;
T H O U G H T S * Mira hates the world but moneymoneymoney. ;;
M U S I C * 48 Hours ;;
T A G G E D * Gabe dos Santos ;;
W E A R I N G * [ Click! ] ;;
C R E D I T S * say anything's hate everyone ;; |
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Gabe dos Santos
He/Him/His
Vampire
Single
Pansexual
Alana
20 posts
What is Atlantic Rim why are they fighting in alcohol
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Post by Gabe dos Santos on Jun 30, 2014 18:57:44 GMT -6
 After spending years going up and down California, sliding into Oregon and forgoing Washington (Because like hell was he going to be a vampire in Washington state, he wanted to gag), Gabe had grown weary of the West Coast. Sure, the ocean was nice, and it reminded him of home, but after the eighties home had been soured and an unpleasant memory, one he liked to avoid. Time to say goodbye to the Pacific and head East, ducking out of the sun at the first hint of light each morning.
Travel was a pain in the ass when you literally caught fire and were driving into the sun.
But all the same, he'd managed Louisiana and had only just hit New Orleans an hour or two into the night. Plenty of time to get someone to eat, maybe take in an ancient cemetery and hit the clubs before he slipped back into the shadows for another day. Part of him wondered if he would run into Anna while he was there. She'd come from Louisiana, long ago, and still spoke with a familiar soft twang that brokered no arguments. It had been nearly ten years since he'd seen her or his brothers, and though that wasn't much in the grand scheme he was itching for a family again.
Gabe parked his motorcycle and pocketed the key, gliding down the street. Louisiana wasn't vampire territory the way New York or Toronto were, but it didn't belong to anyone. Which meant he watched passer-bys with dark eyes, always watching for a meal or a threat. None came, and he walked into a dusky bar. It was busy enough, which he liked. A dead bar was a bad bar. The pretty bartender did it a favour, too, and the corner of his mouth curled upwards as he slid onto a stool and leaned against the bar counter.
"Rye whiskey. Make it bloody, if you could, babe."
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Post by Na'Mira Williams on Jul 1, 2014 9:37:59 GMT -6
He wasn't bad looking; Na'Mira would give him that much.
Over her time at this rinkadink bar, she had seen many men. Some had been attractive, but most had not. Most who came to the bar were true New Orleans natives; backwoods farmers, gator hunters, and the occasional waiter from another restaurant. None were too pretty on the eyes, and most had a disgusting air of racism around them, but still she had smiled through them all, nodded her head and batted her eyelashes. She had complimented them as if they had been Adonis himself.
But this one wasn't like that. First, he wasn't white, which was a blessing in itself. She had spent far too long serving men with racist slurs on their tongues. She had been called far too many things down in New Orleans. She hoped this one was different as she curved her lips and pushed herself up from her lounging position. She hoped he would act like a human being, instead of a king. But most of all, she hoped his fine ass tipped her well.
At his order, Na'Mira gave a chuckle, reaching down to grab the aforementioned whiskey, and began to pour him a shot. As she did, she asked, "You want it bloody, or bloody?" The emphasis on the word was enough to make one or two people glance over, but otherwise no one said a word or even reacted. New Orleans was neutral ground. No one picked a fight, unless they wanted to die.
"Only blood offered here is the one in the drinks, mind you. You a demon or a vamp, and you want to do that freaky stuff? Boss says you gotta take it outside. Just a fair warning." Truth be told, Na'Mira wasn't sure if the man in front of her was anything more than just a man, but it was always worth giving out the warnings. That way, she couldn't be held liable for anything that happened. Especially when it involved blood and other bodily fluids.
W O R D S * 339 ;;
T H O U G H T S * Mira still hates the world ;;
M U S I C * Pagan Music Shit ;;
T A G G E D * Gabe dos Santos ;;
W E A R I N G * [ Click! ] ;;
C R E D I T S * say anything's hate everyone ;; |
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Gabe dos Santos
He/Him/His
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Alana
20 posts
What is Atlantic Rim why are they fighting in alcohol
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Post by Gabe dos Santos on Jul 2, 2014 17:02:35 GMT -6
Racists in the South were like a fart in church - old, smelly, and absolutely everywhere.
Gabe was very much aware of how he looked. Dying, followed by years out of sunlight, had left him pale compared to the way his skin burned into a warm copper, but there was no mistaking the shape of his eyes or his features as anything other than white. It had been hell, after the war, to be part-Japanese. But he'd learned a long time ago how to cope with the people who would belittle him for his heritage, and the fires stoking in his soul burned bright and hot when he was done with them.
He could only imagine how the bartender could relate. Part of him almost felt bad for her, dealing with these hicks day in and day out for a measly paycheck. Almost. He'd done away with all of that a long time ago, and if she had any brains to go with her perky tits she would do the same.
"Definitely bloody," he replied. He'd seen the people look over at her words from the corner of his eye, but he ignored them. They were the same crowd who had taken one look at him and sneered at the colour of his skin, and they were all a decade or two younger than him. Not to mention mortal, meaning they'd be absolutely easy to deal with if they caused trouble.
It'd have been extra work, sure, but he wouldn't refuse the workout after the drive.
Gabe chuckled, rapping his knuckles on the counter as he reached for his wallet. Theoretically he could flash the teeth, let her know exactly what he was, but, well. That would be too boring. "I do business outside of doors. Hard to get blood and gore out of a floor, right?"
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Post by Na'Mira Williams on Jul 4, 2014 0:17:49 GMT -6
"You got it. One bloody whiskey coming up. But not bloody," she added that last part with a little grin, pulling out a glass for him.
It was a simple order, really; a bloody mary with rye whiskey. She could have made twelve of them in her sleep, six bloody and the other six bloody. After all, while her customers were not exactly the kindest to those different from them, her boss was an old man from the 60's. The 1760's, that is. He knew how to stock the kitchen and bar for every creature that might come through that door, from vampires to fae to werewolves. Her boss was the one good thing about this place.
There had to be something worthwhile about the bar, otherwise even the money wouldn't have been able to keep Na'Mira's attention for long. And that was saying a lot, considering the high rent and cost of living in New Orleans. It took a lot to push Na'Mira away from something she loved (money and booze), but the amount of terrible shit in this bar (racists) was almost enough to make her want to throw in the towel, had that one bright light not been there (her boss).
When she finished with the drink, Na'Mira slid it the few inches from her spot to his. Clearing off a spot for her arms and tits, Mira leaned over, to reclaim her spot. There was no one new at the bar, and no one was demanding her attention, so she might as well take the next few moments to talk to this newcomer. Maybe she could schmooze an extra tip of drink off of him. Or maybe she could just pry a conversation from him. A conversation that did not involve words like "ebony" or "coffee" or other disgusting references to the color of her breasts and, thus, her skin.
"I do appreciate that, by the way," she said, fiddling with the shot glasses, lining them up in a straight, neat row. "The boss doesn't mind tendin' to other races, but he's not good about the having to clean up after 'em. Blood leaves the darkest stains. It's why this place got rid of carpet before it fell out of style."
W O R D S * 375 ;;
T H O U G H T S * this post sucks and i'm sorry ;;
M U S I C * Legally Blonde the Musical ;;
T A G G E D * Gabe dos Santos ;;
W E A R I N G * [ Click! ] ;;
C R E D I T S * say anything's hate everyone ;; |
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Gabe dos Santos
He/Him/His
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Alana
20 posts
What is Atlantic Rim why are they fighting in alcohol
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Post by Gabe dos Santos on Jul 5, 2014 16:46:33 GMT -6
Gabe's eyebrows quirked as he watched her make his drink. It was too early in the night for anything bloody, and while sometimes an early drink was welcome it wasn't what he wanted yet tonight. Plenty of time for that, and maybe the bartender would let him take a drink, or he could just wait until she got off and sweep down on her.
Nah.
That was hard nowadays, now that vampires had come out in the open and taken over. Even in neutral territory (or perhaps even more so in neutral territory), people were wary and prepared. Muffled screams were investigated promptly or ignored completely, and she was actually interesting. "If you're working here for a few more hours, it'll probably be time for bloody drinks," he said, grinning a little.
Reaching into his wallet, Gabe pulled out enough to cover his drink and flicked them on the counter. "Start a tab, would you?" In all likelihood, he wasn't going to leave for a while - not when the drinks were poured freely and the bartender was both attractive and interesting. Might as well avoid pulling out his wallet constantly, right? And the drinks, once he lifted it and took a sip, was excellent. Definitely not leaving for a while. "Shit, you're good at this."
Gabe snorted. "Smart move there. If you have to get any floor covered in blood, tile's the best - carpet soaks it up in the fibers and wood gets it into the grain. Tile grout is a pain in the ass to get blood out of. Not even worth trying." It's personal experience, really; he and Anna had shared a foreclosed home for the first few years after he turned. Killing was the least stressful when they did it inside, which meant the both of them had learned all about getting blood out of any number of floors. Figured out the best cleaners for it, too. Not that he was about to say that.
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Post by Na'Mira Williams on Jul 7, 2014 10:25:25 GMT -6
Mira couldn't help but grin at the compliment, fingers idly reaching over to take the tossed cash. Of course she was good at this; it was how she made a living, after all. It was how she had worked her way through medical school and how she had been able to both keep a roof over her head and put food in her mouth. The school may have been willing to ignore her tuition, but their stipends were definitely lacking. She shoved the cash into her pocket.
"You stay here long enough, and you'll see just how many bloody drinks I serve a night."
The statement was said lightheartedly, perhaps with a bit of smile, but there was no mistaken the uncomfortable air that some patrons stirred around themselves. None of the men were comfortable with those things, but Na'Mira found them all right enough. They tipped well, avoided spilling blood on the carpet, and one or two were even decent flirts. If she had to pick, she would rather serve a room full of vampires than a small crowd of these Cajun rednecks, with their odd and disgusting fetishes.
Na'Mira grabbed a few paper towels, dampened them, and proceeded to scrub some of the alcohol and other sticky residue from the wooden counter. Most were staying away from the bar, now that there was a stranger there. If only that trick worked every night, she thought, but then shook her head. They needed to make money; her boss, especially. One didn't keep up the oldest bar in New Orleans without serving a few terrors. Still, having them eye the pair from afar was enough for right now. It gave her time to think.
"Luckily, he knows all about that blood stuff," she said, trying to hint without letting the secret out. "He's had to clean it up many times over the years, especially since the vampires came outta the closet. We've had a few rough nights here."
And they had, sort of. A few times, the patrons had wanted to start things with the night crawlers, only to then have themselves thrown into the wall and stumble out with a busted lip or a bleeding head. The vampires never lost; that was the thing these humans had been forced to learn. When it came to the rest of the world, humans were weak. They were small and pathetic. Even Na'Mira new that, though she was only really half a human.
Being a Plus had its advantages, even if it was trying to kill her.
"Hopefully no more trouble, though. Can't afford anymore broken glasses."
W O R D S * 435 ;;
T H O U G H T S * Her powers her very helpful. Especially regarding cute strangers. ;;
M U S I C * Legally Blonde the Musical ;;
T A G G E D * Gabe dos Santos ;;
W E A R I N G * [ Click! ] ;;
C R E D I T S * say anything's hate everyone ;; |
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Gabe dos Santos
He/Him/His
Vampire
Single
Pansexual
Alana
20 posts
What is Atlantic Rim why are they fighting in alcohol
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Post by Gabe dos Santos on Jul 11, 2014 17:36:27 GMT -6
Much as Gabe like to nurse his drink, enjoy it slowly with the occasional lazy sip as the mood struck him, he found himself quickly halfway through the tumbler. It had been a while since he'd enjoyed good company over his drink; where once he and Paolo would goof off and laugh at other patrons, seducing women (and men) as they saw fit, Dave rolling his eyes good-naturedly and Anna watching with amusement, now it was just him. And, just for tonight, him and the bartender.
His pointer finger traced a line of condensation around the rim of the glass. "Make many of them bloody, or are they all bloody?"
Gabe glanced briefly at one of the old men in the corner, shooting him a grin. And maybe he let just a bit of fang into his smile, to see how the guy would react, but who could say in the bar's lighting? Could have been a shadow, not a fang. Besides, even if the guy tried to start something, really, it was almost no contest. Gabe would be stronger, faster, more than happy to rip him limb from limb.
Outside of course, rather than get it on the floor. Like he'd told her, he did his business out-of-doors.
An eyebrow cocked upwards. "Does he?" he said slowly. "First hand experience in getting rid of it?" It'd be interesting if her boss was a vampire, really. Another point in the bartender's favour, apart from her great tits and drinks. Anyone who was cool with his species was that much less likely to be killed by him, to be honest - the ones that were terrified of vampires, hated them for coming out of the shadows and taking over, they fought the hardest to survive, to no avail. They tasted the best.
"I'm sure a pretty thing like you can get them to cough up the cash for glasses they break. You got a name?"
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Post by Na'Mira Williams on Jul 13, 2014 0:50:47 GMT -6
Unable to help herself, Na'Mira gave a little chuckle, shoving her hands into her pockets. Or rather, trying to; the shorts she wore were practically pocketless. It was the curse of both bartenders and women in general, to look hot and have absolutely no pockets due to the clothing industry. They seemed bound and determined to give shorts as little functionality as possible, at least when it came to women's clothing. Still, Na'Mira shoved her fingers as far as they would go, popping a hip out and chuckling.
"I make 'em both about pretty evenly, actually," she admitted, running her tongue along her teeth. The little curve never left her lips, even as she continued, "I'm pretty sure m customers are about half and half, to be fair, but most vamps keep their fangs to themselves. Either because they're afraid they'll scare me, or because they don't care to get into any trouble. Doesn't really matter to me either way, really. I just pour the drinks."
She finally pulled her hands out of her fake pockets and rested her arms on the counter. Her tongue ran over her teeth once more. She wasn't sure what all she wanted to reveal to this guy, but she knew she had to say something. Surely Sam wouldn't care if she admitted just... one thing about himself. After all, it wasn't really a secret what he was. The patrons just pretended to ignore it. After all, his place was cheap, Na'Mira made great drinks, and a game was always on.
"He knows a thing or two about cleaning blood up," Na'Mira repeated, cutting him a sly smile. "I wouldn't say he has a lot of firsthand experience, but then I think someone would be calling me a liar, if you catch my drift. And I can't lie about the man who cuts my checks and lets me keep the tips. You want me to top that drink off for-- Oh, hang on."
There was a moment when Na'Mira had to leave, suddenly called to attention by the other end of the bar. After filling up two more drinks, swatting off a dangerously close hand, and gathering up the (unfortunately meager) tips she so rightfully deserved, the Plus made her way back to Gabe. The empty glasses found their way back into the sink as she said, "Na'Mira Williams. What about you, handsome?"
W O R D S * 398 ;;
T H O U G H T S * Hototototot. Maybe I can get laid? ;;
M U S I C * Legally Blonde the Musical ;;
T A G G E D * Gabe dos Santos ;;
W E A R I N G * [ Click! ] ;;
C R E D I T S * say anything's hate everyone ;; |
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Gabe dos Santos
He/Him/His
Vampire
Single
Pansexual
Alana
20 posts
What is Atlantic Rim why are they fighting in alcohol
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Post by Gabe dos Santos on Jul 18, 2014 17:46:26 GMT -6
Gabe had, when he first walked in, eyed her body and checked out her curves. And the bartender was gorgeous, and she knew it, too. The shorts were short and her breasts were on display, and he knew that was part of what made the bar so popular with the white old asshole crowd, but he had eyes. Ears, too, and as soon as she had opened her mouth and started talking he'd been interested in more than just her face. Undead, soulless killer or not, his mother had managed to drive some manners into him before he took off.
He lifted his glass to his lips and sipped, savouring the smooth liquor. It didn't matter if it was blood or alcohol much, Gabe liked the flow of liquid down his throat, pooling in his stomach. Blood might have sustained him, sure, and maybe he could have survived on an all-blood diet, but that was hardly as enjoyable as a drink or six. Drinks were even better with company, and he snickered a little at her comment. "Almost surprised by that. I would have thought that people 'round here would have been worse about people like me. Can't've been easy after vampires came out of the coffin."
He very nearly frowned when she had to go cater to other patrons. Why, he couldn't say - it wasn't as though he was particularly interested in a human as anything more than a quick meal or a night in bed. Or at least, most humans. Fine, fine, Gabe was bored and lonely, and it had been too long since he'd had any good conversation with someone. See, he could admit his own problems when he wanted to. Even if he would have rather denied it.
When she came back, Gabe rested his chin in his hand and grinned, lips sealed. "You can start up a tab for Gabe dos Santos, Na'mira Williams," he said, pushing his empy glass towards her. "And you were telling me about this boss of yours?"
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Post by Na'Mira Williams on Jul 23, 2014 15:19:49 GMT -6
"Easy? No, it ain't easy one bit."
She gave a little chuckle, glancing towards the back of the bar, where the kitchen was. She could sense a pair of eyes on hers; most likely Sam's. Her fingers touched the rim of a bottle and, after realizing the gaze did not intensify, poured herself a drink. Just a small one, just enough to take the bite off the night. She couldn't let herself get drunk enough to be escorted from work, after all.
That was counter productive to the whole "make money and move on" mission she had going on here.
"But he makes it work. He has me doin' the day jobs, at least until he finds a more permanent worker. Not that I'm any easier for the locals to work with." Na'Mira took the glass and brought it to her lips, both ignoring and relishing the burn of alcohol as it slid down her throat. "Hell, if they're rude to people my shade, think of how they are to his kind. And then think about how they act to people my shade workin' for people with his blood. Or lack thereof, I guess would be a better way to put it."
A little smile curved her lips, just enough to show the humor behind her words. Out of all the (living) people in the bar, Na'Mira had to be one of a very small handful willing to joke about and with vampires. To be fair, it wasn't completely the locals' fault; they had all been raised to hate and fear what they didn't know, after all. But no matter what the reason, the result was still the same, and it was a result that had caused people years of fear and pain.
When he offered his money, the Plus was quick to take it, murmuring, "Gabe dos Santos," as if tasting the name on her tongue. After deeming it fit him, Na'Mira nodded, winked. "You got it, Mr. Santos. As for Sam, well, ain't it a bit impolite to be talkin' 'bout somebody behind their back? 'Sides, it ain't like he's gunna bite your head off if you want to try to talk to him. 'Specially not if you're..."
She let the implication hang in the air.
W O R D S * 379 ;;
T H O U G H T S * Well, seems like I may have a friend? Or a flirt partner? ;;
M U S I C * Still Legally Blonde the Musical ;;
T A G G E D * Gabe dos Santos ;;
W E A R I N G * [ Click! ] ;;
C R E D I T S * say anything's hate everyone ;; |
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Gabe dos Santos
He/Him/His
Vampire
Single
Pansexual
Alana
20 posts
What is Atlantic Rim why are they fighting in alcohol
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Post by Gabe dos Santos on Aug 16, 2014 17:53:15 GMT -6
Gabe could only snicker. He'd been sneered down at for years - for not being white, for being a melting pot of races and cultures, for being lowerclass than the rich, fat white men who said his surname like it was something distasteful. Years he'd spent being mocked, put down, bullied for things beyond his control. Vampires coming out had been a blessing, in so many ways. For once he could terrify the fat, rich, white men by smiling, running his tongue over his teeth and letting the light catch the long fangs. The power that coursed through him when he scented their fear was intoxicating.
Na'mira didn't have that. He couldn't imagine the pain she'd dealt with.
Unzipping his leather jacket at last, Gabe watched her drink. "You're not staying here?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow. He'd assumed that she was a permanent bartender here, one that definitely deserved her tips. At her next words he snorted, sticking his thumb over his shoulder to point at the other patrons. He'd certainly been an ass many times before, but it was a whole other level of dickery that made people act like racist fuckwads to the people serving them. Undead, soulless bloodsucker or not, Gabe had standards. "They give you trouble while I'm in town, you let me know and I'll take care of 'em. Got that, girl?"
He leaned forwards, resting his chin on his propped up arm. "Ah right, I'd forgot, this is the South, ain't it?" he mimicked a Southern accent on the last few words, grinning. "Height of manners down here, your boss'd be that way too. He and I are two of a kind, afterall, and you don't stab each other in the back." He winked, biting his lip and watching her again. Fast becoming a habit, that was.
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Post by Na'Mira Williams on Aug 23, 2014 6:58:06 GMT -6
 At his question, Na'Mira shook her head. "Nah. I travel around too much. Got itchy feet, as my mama would have said. I gotta keep movin'." She poured herself a small drink, and then, after feeling no judgement from the back, began to sip it. "I've been here a few months, and even that's too long for me. But Sam needs someone to watch the old place, and I need money in my pocket. So it's a nice little deal, yeah?"
His question had been met with a hint of indifference, but his offer was enough to make her grin. Sam had not given her the same deal -- not that she could blame him, really. He was, after all, a black business owner in the South. He had to save face as much as he could, and that involved letting his female employees take the brunt of the racism every now and then. Still, he did occasionally growl at the fuckers whose words got too strong, or whose eyes lowered just a tad too much.
Na'Mira liked tips. She didn't like them enough to have to ignore what was the equivalent of eye-molestation.
"Y'know," she said, leaning over the bar slightly, "I might have to take you up on that. You got a number I can use, just in case these... polite gentlemen ever get a bit out of hand? A lady has to know how to get in touch with her knight, after all."
She could feel the change in atmosphere at her words, but Na'Mira ignored it. She had just publicly admitted to accepting help from a Vampire, and there was nothing these assholes could do about it. Oh, they could try. They could try to talk her out of it, or even rough her up a bit. But once she had his number in her hands, the worst they could do was open their mouth. That is, if Gabe kept his word.
Na'Mira pushed herself up from the bar, smiled, "You and Sam would get along great, I can tell. Perhaps he'll let you meet him after work. Right now, he's back there doing 'important boss things.'"
W O R D S * 360 ;;
T H O U G H T S * Hell yea. Vampire buddy. ;;
M U S I C * Nothing ;;
T A G G E D * Gabe dos Santos ;;
W E A R I N G * [ Click! ] ;;
C R E D I T S * say anything's hate everyone ;; |
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Gabe dos Santos
He/Him/His
Vampire
Single
Pansexual
Alana
20 posts
What is Atlantic Rim why are they fighting in alcohol
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Post by Gabe dos Santos on Oct 13, 2014 8:22:54 GMT -6
“Ah, I’m not the only one who doesn’t like staying in one place.” Gabe could appreciate that. Staying in one place could be boring in the long term, downright awful for anything even longer. When he was first turned, he and Anna would spend as much as five years in a city or town before moving on. By the time their little family went their own ways, it was down to a few months. Time moved different when you were undead, and sure enough, it was plenty relative. Even though he had literally only just arrived in New Orleans, his feet would get itchy soon enough that he’d likely leave in a few weeks or less. “Where you from?”
He snickered, just aware of the dirty glares aimed at them. More than a small part of him hoped that some of the assholes would actually act on their disgust for him, he could use the amusement. “Hope you do. I work cheap, too, just get me another rye whiskey and you’ll never have to watch your back in this town again. Bloody bloody, this one.”
His feet rested on the floor, though had he been any shorted Gabe would be swinging his legs. He was restless, still, after a long drive, and eager to stretch his legs on the humid streets. Perhaps Mira would be interested in joining him when her shift was over - certainly it’d make it easier to give anyone trying to go after her a thorough beating. “Yeah, shit, I do. Give me yours, too, I don’t answer calls from numbers I don’t know. Call me old fashioned.”
Gabe rattled off his numbers, hauling his own phone out of his pocket before pressing the button below his screen and swiping to unlock his phone. “I think I’d like to meet this boss of yours, too. Sounds like a good guy, and anyone who can be everyone these bastards hate and still take their money is good in my books.”
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