Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-26104528-20150531022109/@comment-26130256-20150728012654

"Well, we can, if it means that much to you," Azulius shrugged again. Where Azzie grew up, the duty of paying for the night's festivities fell on the host, or whoever had proposed the outing in the first place. Unless anyone had agreed to some outlandish wager over who would pay, but the young Cardamom had brushed with death a few times too many today to gamble. But traditions existed to serve man, not the other way around, so if Fritz really wanted to pay his own way, so be it.

The Melange was somewhat out of the way, almost like it didn't want to be found, except by a chosen few. The magician gave the bouncer a cordial tip of the imaginary hat as the pair walked inside. True to his description, not just the food, but everything about the restaurant, from the house band's instruments to the decor to the clothes worn by the wait staff looked like they had been mixed-and-matched at random. After a minute, a mid-thirties waitress dressed in a black corset and kimono pants came and showed them to a booth near the corner that offered a decent view of the floor. The odds of getting into another firefight today were slim, but Azulius wanted the comfort of some open sight lines tonight.

"One of my favorite things about this place," Azzie smiled as he opened his menu. "You think you've traveled the world?  See how much of the stuff on this menu you can identify.  Even after two years of wandering for the family, I can recognize about two-thirds of the stuff on a good day."

"No shame at all in that," Ochre nodded, much more distant than he was before. "A man should always make time for his anniversary." He of all people understood. Though for Ochre Cardamom, his anniversary consisted of a glass or three of champagne and enough brooding to make any emo band retire in shame. Rosa always loved some good champagne. He never touched the stuff during the rest of the year; no one in the family did, and even now the bottles remained untouched.

"I think I saw your Professor Bailey when I was walking by the arenas," Trigo cut in, trying desperately to change the subject. "I figured 'Director Cardiffson' should take a tour around the facilities.  I had a lovely sparring bout with four of your new recruits, but it was over rather quickly for my tastes.  Which, before I forget, is a matter I would love to investigate whenever I'm here for meetings.  It's been far too long since I've had a 1v1 bout that really made me sweat, and I have a much better chance of finding one here than back home, where they're already scared of me."

(For the record, in regards to "Power Levels", I mentally place Trigo squarely in the Huntsman tier, about where we would imagine Port, Oobleck, and Glynda (and we saw how much of a hurting they delivered in canon).  Thanks to reputation, he is viewed by many gangsters as something far more terrifying.)