𝔩𝔢𝔞 𝔢𝔫𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔠𝔢𝔯

Yoon Barret Butch. 34 year old Diamond LEA Enforcer.

[enforcerbutch]

@crookxdrook​

09/13/24

Nothing is helping. That fact is clear to Rook as he sits on the third floor of the Thronebreaker with a group of mid to high ranked Clubs- the only area of his beloved tavern they can stand to be in without throwing up, though those with weaker stomachs are keeping buckets on hand just in case. The candles seemed to help the most, pulling off the stench in the areas where they’d been lit by some small amount, and so, he’d spent a not insubstantial amount of money on getting more, the bar lit by fire and magic lanterns in equal measure for the first time since Rook overhauled the upper floors into more luxury experiences. 

The baking soda and vinegar had only made the places it was applied smell more like vinegar, and quickly gave way to the original scent a moment later, and so, he’d put the remnants of it back in the kitchen to use for cooking- may as well make it useful if he was going to be blowing more money on getting the Thronebreaker off the back foot- and the less  he said about the scent bomb, the better.

It had done little more than mingle with the already present stink in the tavern, making the first and second floors completely inhospitable due to the taste of grass and sewage that lingered on the air now, forcing the concubus and his compatriots to wear masks as they moved through the miasma of smells on the lower floors so they could meet within the location previously reserved only for face cards and those who had fought a hard battle for their access. Now it welcomed only his fellow Clubs and the rare loyal party to the King who, in Rook’s viewpoint, had more brains than the average member of his faction- He wanted information, and they wanted his praise, so in a reeking bar lit by candlelight, Rook nursed his joint (one of the last few of a strength that would keep him under control.) and scrawled out a letter in return to Butch.

It arrives by way of a Diamond face card in the LEA offices, one of Rook’s regular clients, and is written in a careful hand, though there are points where the handwriting becomes scrawled and jagged, more pressure on the pen out of anger and discomfort.

Butch-

This is an unmitigated disaster, if I see a Spade, I’m taking my penance out of their hide. 

The scent bomb bullshit made it even worse, can’t be on the first or second floor of my own fuckin’ property without tasting shit and feeling like I need to vacate my stomach of its contents, I’m going mad trying to solve this, if you’re willing to work on this in your spare time between other work, I’d owe you big time. I’m talking sexual favors or a crime that you can’t get pinned for big time, Won’t even charge for the fuckin’ services.

I’m about to contract out some low-ranks here in Club to haul the earth outside off, won’t do much for the inside of the tavern, but it should make it so I can actually be outside on my roof and maybe get some sleep in the damned hammock, but everything I’ve tried is really just slapping a bandage on a festering wound.

I’m going to shift gears to look for somebody to fix the crack in the side of the building, I’ll keep you posted if I find a lead on some way to deal with the smell here, but my worry now is that if I don’t do something about the structural damage the whole place is going to come down.

Thanks for trying,

Rook W.

09/29/2024

The fact the letter had been delivered by one of his superior officers had been rather jarring but Butch supposed later it probably should’ve been expected. After all, he’d known for a long time just what kind of clientele the King of Clubs pulled in on a regular basis. The Enforcer takes a couple weeks to reply, working on the problem after work and on his days off - he even took off a couple extra days when he had a breakthrough.

Rook,

Sorry mate, I did warn you about the scent bomb, though. I’ve been working on your problem and I think I’ve got something that might work. Without getting into too much detail - I took all the deodorizers I talked about in my last letter and combined them into a liquid. It took a while to get the ratios right and learn how much mana to inject per unit, but I think they’re as efficient as they’re going to get.

Don’t get your hopes up, though, I’d rather not have my head knocked if it doesn’t work as intended. That being said, the last batch I made neutralized the scent of the sample I took the last time I was over there.

The man to whom you owe so many bowls of noodles,

B.

The last section of the letter is in the same handwriting, but a little more textured, as though it were written on a brick wall rather than a flat surface.

PS; If you’re wondering why I sent the crates with a bunch of small children instead of delivering them myself or finding an adult runner, let’s just chalk it up to paranoia. The LEA have been on edge recently with all the shit going on in Clubs, and in my experience, kids will lie through their teeth for strangers for a silver piece while their parents sing like canaries in the next room over for piece of moldy bread. Plus, I did make sure they were strongarms.

Yellowed paper delivered by small hands, the letter is held by the youngest courier while their (only slightly) larger companions bring three crates into the Thronebreaker. Inside the crates there are four wide rectangular-necked bottles apiece - all made of glass. While their stoppers are the traditional corks Rook is used to seeing on Butch’s work, there’s an extra piece inside each bottle’s neck as well. Shaped like a miniature water wheel, the small metal pieces should, theoretically, force the liquid to flow out of the bottles steadily.

[xxrouxx]

Mayans MC Incorrect Quotes - 2/?

[enforcerbutch]

Falling & Death

Falling: What does your muse think about falling in love or commitment?

Terrifying. 

Butch finds the idea of loving someone to be a threat more than an ideal. Value someone’s life over his own? Think about them and their needs constantly? His life is a slow motion carriage accident on fire. Why would he want to involve someone else in that? Plus, even if he ended up falling in love, it’s not like he can undo the carriage accident that is his life without giving up on his revenge entirely and going straight. Regardless of how great love supposedly is, he doesn’t think he’ll ever love anyone enough to drop his entire life and become a new man for them.

Considering he’s not hot on relationships at all, it’s hard to comment on commitment.

Death: Name one thing your muse has lost that they wish they could get back.

Butch isn’t particularly materialistic. Since his family is fairly wealthy his relationship with money and goods is essentially “everything is replaceable”. He also hasn’t burned any bridges (or had them burned for him) that he has any interest in rebuilding.

[enforcerbutch]

@passcridae​

The door swung wide and Sparrow was granted an even better look at – and smell of – the chaos within, and inevitably he wrinkled his nose. Furrowing his brow followed soon after as the man turned his back and walked away instead of a.) seeing Sparrow swiftly shut out, or b.) attempting to arrest him. The shifter relaxed his stance but made no move to step over the threshold, still not convinced this wasn’t a trap.

Sparrow’s tongue traced the edges of his teeth as he looked the Alchemist up and down from across the room. This situation was rapidly developing far more questions than answers.

“At first I was just curious why you weren’t sellin’ your own wares,” Sparrow started matter-of-factly, his eyes flickering over strange scorch marks and remnants of brightly colored gods-knew-what that suggested heavy experimentation. His gaze settled on the uniform again. “Now that I see why, I wanna know what business an LEA enforcer has sellin’ some of the shit you do.”

Namely, the poisons Sparrow had been buying. There wasn’t much plausible deniability there: poisons have one job, and one job only.

He frowned at Butch again, quietly assessing like Rook had taught him. Like most, the man was far broader than Sparrow, and stockier. If it came down to a fight, his dire wolf form would be Sparrow’s best bet. The quarters would be close and awkward, but it also meant the enforcer wouldn’t have many places to go to avoid the crushing power of Sparrow’s jaws.

So, the shifter felt confident leaning into this. “Your poisons are some of the best on the market.” A strange sort of compliment, considering the situation. And maybe Sparrow was tipping his hand too far to admit to what he’d been buying, but neither of them really had the moral high ground here. All it really told the Alchemist was, yeah, Sparrow wasn’t one of his less ambitious patrons.

“Is this some sort of… entrapment bullshit?” The word was a big one for Sparrow, but he’d learned it young. Firsthand, at least twice. He knew better now, or at least, he could fight better now if the enforcer tried to flip this situation into taking him in. The man could certainly fucking try.

Right, good, so he wouldn’t be leaving. Aha. 

“I,” Butch replies, right hand reaching up to scratch at his beard. He probably should’ve thought a little longer and a little at all about his rebuttal but the stress of the situation and his desire for the tension of it all to be over led to some rather blunt truths. “Like money and hate the LEA.” Well. He never claimed to be eloquent.

“Not that it’s any of your fucking business.”

The compliment came out of nowhere and didn’t help the Enforcer’s nerves at all. Sure the praise had stroked his ego, for he had always suspected he was one of the only alchemists focusing on the darker aspects of their art and hearing he was the best was nice, but it also let him know this guy was using poisons. It wasn’t like there were a lot of uses for poisons. Killing people, or reverse-engineering antidotes, that was about it. Given the context, it was rather difficult to assume he’d been using them for anything other than the former.

Oh goodie, a murderer.

Giving his unwelcome guest a smile that went nowhere near his eyes he offered a defensive and definitively lackluster, “Yeah thanks.”

Maybe it was the pressure of the situation or maybe it was because the Alchemist was adrenaline-strung and tired, but he laughed. He laughed loudly, disbelief evident in the sound as it bounced around the small space. It took a few moments but Butch eventually reigned in the absurd reaction, hand moving back up to his face so he could massage the sides of it and physically prevent any further outbursts should they attempt to rip free of his mouth again.

“Hardly. You showed up at my door, remember?” Here he gestures to the doorway the man is still standing near. “How is it entrapment if I’m not the one selling to you and then immediately arresting you? Literally how would anyone ever be trapped by this situation. Do you think the chucklehead you followed here baited you into following him? And that I was here lying in wait? Fucking hell mate, I’m the one who gets to be suspicious in this situation.”

[enforcerbutch]

Change, Number 13

Change: What was a turning point in your muse’s life?

There have been a few times in Butch’s life when his plans (no matter how tentative and vague they may have been) had to be changed rather abruptly. When he failed to awaken as an Elementalist the way his family treated him worsened, and his confidence in his ability to get away with whatever he wanted, faltered. While everyone was operating under the assumption he would eventually awaken to be as strong as his parents (and his siblings) he was let off with a lot more out of fear of what he’d be capable of eventually. This changed the older he got. If he was just a human, the people he ripped off didn’t have to worry about retaliations from the Council and the Yoon’s stopped going out of their way to keep him safe.

Eventually, this led to Butch’s cowing to the Yoons, his enrollment into the LEA academy, and subsequent employment as an Enforcer. During the first few years of his involvement with the LEA, both as a recruit in their academy and as a green enforcer, his criminal activity stopped altogether. This was a huge lifestyle adjustment for the human and he regards it as some of the worst years of his life to this day.

While he had already wormed his way into the underworld by the time he awakened as an Alchemist, his awakening was yet another turning point for the Enforcer. As he decided to keep his awakening a secret, it increased the stress he faced on a daily basis but also provided a way for him to make a steady, secret, amount of coin. While he hasn’t truly decided what to do with the money yet, he’s sure it’ll help with his plans to bring about the fall of the Yoons eventually.

Number 13: Does your muse believe any superstitions?

Absolutely not, no.

[enforcerbutch]

@phoenixkadeu​

Even as Butch spun Asra around and even as the fire elementalist felt the rough rope leave his wrist freeing him, the truth was that he did not believe how easily he was getting away with this, it seemed to good to be true, especially after knowing that the business belonged to his family. However, Asra was not about to protest and argue back, he just wanted to get away from here before he changed his mind and decided to have him locked up.

“Yeah, I guess” he shrugged, not really giving any thought to either the question or the answer. As the blond turned around and his fingers started to massage the bruised skin of his wrists, he found himself not getting even a little bit used to the actions of this LEA agent. Asra hated almost all of them, blame his past trauma, however if it wasn’t for the uniform, he would have never guessed that this man was one of them.

He made an effort to remember the name of the man who had let him go, even if he hadn’t offered him any more words before he had started to run away. It was not often that Asra was unsettled when meeting someone, but something about the way that agent had smiled after seeing the fire and hearing the cracks on the inside had almost made him laugh.

That was one crazy son of a bitch.

But, just as grateful as he was for being able to walk away freely, he also felt disappointed for not being able to see the faces of his comrades after noticing that he had run away. Asra hoped that he would find Butch again so he could at least re-tell him their reactions, stealing and fucking with the LEA were one of the things that made Asra wake up every morning.

fin.

[enforcerbutch]

Tight spaces + curses

Tight Spaces: Does your muse ever feel that they’re not living up to their own potential?

Yes and no. The Yoon’s had a lot of expectations for Butch growing up and they forced their ideals upon him for an extraordinarily long time, often citing his ‘wasted potential’ as a reason for their abuses, so he’s soured on the notion of “potential”. Butch tends to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants, with little thought to what he should be doing instead. 

That being said, he does occasionally feel like he should be doing something more or something different. Before he was blessed by Hermes with the core of an Alchemist, this feeling was much worse and came more frequently. The urge to do something different was because he hated his job with the LEA (a job which took up most of his time), and something more was because he hasn’t made much of an impact against the Yoons... or on anything at all. He really just hadn’t done much in general, and sometimes it got to him.

He’s doing better with this now, especially buried as he is in his experiments.

Curses: Does your muse believe in good/bad luck? How about karma?

No. If he believed in luck he’d have to believe he had the worst luck ever, and what could he have possibly done to deserve that? Plus, which idiotic superstitions are supposed to be real? Is he supposed to buy four of everything for good luck or avoid buying four of anything because it’s bad luck? What about that one about birds? Is he supposed to high-tail it outta town whenever a black bird crosses his path? He doesn’t have the time, energy, or fucks to give for that.

Karmas similar. It’d be nice if it were real; if everyone who ever wronged him got shat on by birds or bit by manabeasts every time they left their houses. But they’re all perfectly fine; doing better than Butch in almost every case, so karma’s obviously not real. Or its broken. And what use is broken karma?

Butch has heard the rumors about the Ko family’s power over luck, and it absolutely terrifies him. Aside from the fact they’re all Highrankers and High Fae, he avoids the Circle casinos in particular because he thinks anyone who has power over luck is not to be fucked with. Or spoken to, really, if you can get away with it.  Why tempt fate? With his luck (haha) he’d probably end up pissing one of the Ko’s off and ending up with even shittier luck than he’s already got.

[anakin-skywalker]

[enforcerbutch]

Abandonment: How would your muse win back someone who left them?

He wouldn't. 

Butch has been betrayed too many times to value anyone who leaves him; especially if their leaving wasn’t a direct result of something he did. Even if the person did leave due to something the Enforcer did, it’s likely Butch did it in order to push them away, so what would be the point of chasing them down? His view on relationships, both friendly and romantic, are biased and skewed. 

[enforcerbutch]

@cunningtype

Friday 01 October 2024; 22:30 Diamond Territory; The Blue Rose

The month of September had come and gone in a flash. Between his experiments for a product that could help Rook Wainright with his tavern’s scent problem, planting false evidence in the Mystic Stones case to fuck over the Yoons, and his usual LEA bullshit work, Butch truly felt like he blinked and October was slapping him across the face. Generally when time disappeared like this it meant he was on the brink of a breakthrough or a burnout. Either way, he’d decided halfway through his shift today he wasn’t going to think about it until tomorrow.

Tonight? Tonight was for drinking.

He’s lost count of how many mugs had come and gone, as well as how many cigarettes. The pleasant buzz at the back of his jaw told him a joint had been mixed into the rotation, perhaps several, but the Enforcer couldn’t rightly remember. Live music from bards far too good to be playing at a dive such as this filled the space; Butch’s head nodding to the beat before throwing back the last of his whiskey.

A commotion across the bar soon had the Diamond leaning over to get a good look, nearly bumping into his neighbor as he craned his neck to see the fight. Two women were arguing, but as one stood the ‘arguing’ became an incoherent screaming match. The bouncer at the door behind Butch started towards the pair. In seconds he took the standing woman by her elbow and began dragging her away. As the worker and the irate woman passed, Butch’s eyes trailed the pair. The woman’s words, now that he could actually hear them, caused the Enforcer to choke on his cigarette smoke.

“LET ME GO! TAKE HER! SHE’S A ROTTEN PISSING CHEATER CONDEMNED BY THE GODS TO EAT SHIT IN THE AFTERLIFE FOR ALL ETERNITY!! SHE DESERVES NOTHING, THE BITCH -”

Butch barely held back his choking laughter, and as the door to the Blue Rose swung shut, he failed completely. He howled in amusement, the sound breaking the spell the bar had been under. Many other laughed with him before the group of bards began playing again. As things settled down the Enforcer said to no one in particular, “Fucking hells, I’ll have to remember that insult.”

[enforcerbutch]

Getting Old: Would your muse rather live 50 years loved, or 200 years alone?

Buch would rather live 200 years alone, but the length of life truly doesn't matter to him, it's the lack of love.

While it is an edgelord nihilistic outlook on life, it stems from the embittered relationship he has with love. His parents claim to love him yet abuse him consistently both emotionally and physically. Friends he trusted with his life turned their backs on him when attention from his family got them in trouble with the LEA. Partners at his job report him so often the Chief knows his name. 

None of the individuals in his life, both professional and personal, have ever returned his trust with trust, much less true love, so the very idea of loving someone terrifies him. He would sooner break their trust and ruin any budding relationship than ever allow himself to be vulnerable and risk them ruining him.

[enforcerbutch]

[enforcerbutch]

Closet Monsters: What is one thing your muse does that identifies them with their species? Their faction?

Alchemists

A rather new species to the city at large, there aren’t that many obvious over-arching traits that encompass all Alchemists yet. That being said, Butch’s ability to sink himself into projects and get lost in experimentation is common among many of them. As the Enforcer’s status as an Alchemist is a close-kept secret, he does not belong to any of the associations or other groups that trade recipes or information. While this has hindered his growth in some areas (especially in mana concoctions), it has also made many of his recipes unique and irreproducible (poisons, scent bombs, etc.)

Butch feels disconnected from his species. The necessity of keeping his status secret so his family wouldn’t try to interfere with his business has created a divide, but he also doesn’t believe in himself. While some Alchemists see their new blessings as evidence their greatness was seen by Hermes, and that's why they were plucked from the mediocrity of Humanity, the Diamond doesn’t know why he was chosen and is rather suspicious of the whole thing. Even if he weren’t worried about the Yoon’s reaction to his awakening, he likely wouldn’t involve himself in any of his species guilds or associations.

Diamonds

Butch hates Diamonds. Their sense of fashion, their superiority complexes, their obsession with their place in society. There is absolutely nothing he’d like more than to defect, but he has poor opinions of all the factions. Plus, again, his family’s influence would impact that decision and make it harder for him to seek his revenge.

That being said, Butch’s Diamond traits, while anti-diamond on the surface, reek of Diamond hypocrisy. He hates the way Diamond’s dress, so he loudly and proudly wears what they do not. A statement in an of itself, he would claim his outfits are not thought through. They are. Fur and eyepatches are in this year? He’ll deck himself out in leathers and denim. Sunglasses are the fad? He’ll blind himself walking around under the sun so no one thinks he’s participating.

Superiority complex is a little harder to articulate. While he would never claim to be better than others and rarely speaks down to them, he also looks down on people. “My life has been hell, you have nothing holding you back, how could you possibly be unhappy?” etc. He is a firm believer life is what you make of it, especially if no one in your sphere is holding you back. Given he blames the state of his own life on his family and continues to look down on those with objectively worse lives, this is hypocritical.

Butch would claim he doesn’t care about his status or other peoples, but he has a habit of looking for someone else’s rank tattoo within seconds of meeting them and forming conclusions based on that rank. Whether an ingrained habit or a product of his upbringing, it is an extraordinarily Diamond habit. 

[enforcerbutch]

@nihtegalc​

Diamonds.

Fallon couldn’t think of a place she’d rather be less than smack dab in the middle of the Diamond faction. Well, that’s not entirely true. Hearts didn’t bring her any joy either. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d been in this faction, on her own free will. At least a decade. It’s a real shame that record had to be broken. But she was summoned here by a friend in the guild, and so she’d came. That same friend had recommended a little bar to her.

‘Best priced drinks in the faction, if you want a bit of quality. Or and adventurous concoctions.’

She didn’t. Want the adventurous concoctions, that is. Just whiskey. And maybe some food, if she could afford it.   

So she’d listened to her newer friend’s recommendation, figuring it was a long walk home and it would be a bit more pleasant in this heat if her belly was complaining along the way. But one step into the establishment and she knew:

She’d never take their recommendation again. 

It was crowded- something a good dive never was. And the smell. She couldn’t place if it was the overall stench of the bar or if the sour-dill smell belonged to one of the overdressed patrons standing closest to the door. Fallon hoped to her god- and whoever else was listening- that pickled perfume wasn’t actually a new Diamond trend, as she walked up to the host. 

“Table for one, please.” She said flatly, scrunching her nose at the offending stench. The look the host-  or was he a waiter?- gave her was not missed. The disdained look towards her wrist and the plain, worn clothes she wore. “Unless you don’t take coins here? If I must, I think I can find some fermented vegetables.”

The waiter forced a thin smile and shook his head. “Coin will be fine. This way, please.” He turned and motioned for her to follow. 

They weaved through the throng of people, each giving the Club a snubbed look, and each earning a matching one from her in return. It was hot as hell outside, hotter in the bar with so many people, and these pompous bastards showed up in full length gowns and three piece suits? Fallon sniffed the perfume clogged air, a little voice in the back of her mind suggesting that when someone faints, she should charge them extra to help them. 

“A dumbass tax.” She murmured out loud, without intending to. The waiter looked at her with a cocked brow, but she only shook her head. And then scoffed as he ushered her to an already taken table. 

She took the empty seat, but sent a matching glare to the retreating waiter’s back as her new tablemate. With a sigh, she nodded as the man addressed her. 

“Hello.” She shifted awkwardly in her seat, giving the stranger a muted smile before scanning the room. 

“Diamond’s so rich they can’t even afford more tables, huh?” Her tone implied her words were sarcasm, even if the sentiment behind them wasn’t. “How the fuck am I supposed to order my whiskey if the waiter runs to hide behind all the tulle?”

She was rather pretty, now that he got a look at her. Simple, worn clothes increased Butch’s opinion of the woman right off the bat; if the waiter had plopped a ballgown-wearing perfumed ditz in her seat the man probably would’ve gotten up and left, but maybe this wouldn’t be half bad. He was still definitely going to fuck with this place at work on Monday, but maybe he’d lessen the accusations he sent flying towards them. Maybe.

As she glanced around the room the enforcer laughed at her words, the sound deeply amused and purposefully boisterous, drawing quite a few questioning or dirty looks. “Good luck, he ran off with my whiskey order and came back with you so if we so much as think about food and drink I think they might come back with the gods-damned Palace orchestra to squeeze in at our table.”

A passing waiter winced at Butch’s words, glancing at the duo’s bare table with a inaudible groan. She glared at the back of her retreating coworker before speed walking towards the kitchens. While the enforcer hadn’t missed this display, he resolutely ignored it. While his name did him no favors in this faction, the LEA symbol plainly exposed on his forearm did. Glancing towards the woman’s wrists, he noted the six there with little interest, eyes lingering a fraction of a second longer on her faction marks. A Spade who defected to Clubs, interesting. Her bearing thus far had evidence of both, though, and it wasn’t like defectors from any faction were uncommon.

“Names Butch, by the way.”

The waiter who’d ducked into the kitchens came back with a broad smile, placing two mugs of water onto their table as well as a menu in front of his table partner. “Sorry about that, I’ll be helping you today! My name is Hara.”

Butch’s expression wasn’t exactly kind but it was significantly less confrontational than it’d been when first host had appeared. “Hello Hara, I ordered a drink with your rather useless coworker that I assume was never actually placed, not that I blame you for that. Single malt whiskey, anything that doesn’t have any flowery or fruity infusions in it, please. I’d rather my mouth not taste like a field.”

He looks down at his menu again, eyes skimming over most of the food with a dissatisfied knit to his brows. “And this sandwich, I guess.” Muttering more to himself than either of the women in ear shot he added, “What kind of self respecting bar doesn’t even serve noodles?” He handed the menu back, taking a sip of the iceless water while he waited for the stranger across from him to either order or send the girl away.

“Can’t say I’m all that impressed with this place, though I don’t know what I expected from a place called Swine.”

[enforcerbutch]

Blood & Noise

Blood: What’s the worst injury your muse has ever had?

Ugly Laugher. Bit of a difficult answer, this one. Butch has had more than his fair share of injuries in his life, especially growing up in Diamonds as a Human. Capers in his youth that went sideways, beatings from his mother when he lived under her roof, altercations with citizens and lea agents alike as an adult. Name a bone, he's probably broken it, sprained it, dislocated its joint, or fractured it at least one.

The worst injury he received that lasted was during his younger years. Freshly fourteen, he and his friends had gone for a joy ride in a Ten of Diamonds mana carriage. The carriage hadn't withstood the abuse of the group of teens and had ended up smashed into the side of a building.

While no one had been injured beyond bruises and the sum of money needed to compensate the wronged parties had been chump change to the Yoons, Maela had been furious. The building owner and the Ten had banded together, blackmailing the Yoons by threatening to go against their NDAs if they didn't receive a monthly stipend in platinum.

The two had been arrested and silenced, of course, but that hadn't quelled Maela's anger. She used her skills as a water elementalist to drown Butch in his room, repeatedly, always making sure she didn't go too far. When she was done, he was left in agony with burning, extraordinarily damaged lungs. They were not healed until the following afternoon, more than fifteen hours after she'd finished tolling out his punishment.

Noise: Name one sound your muse finds absolutely unbearable.

Highranker babble. The sound of schmoozing banter and inane chatter to the backdrop of harps and string instruments at highranker balls is hell to him. After moving out of the Yoon household, he hasn't been forced to attend any of these "networking" parties and he couldn't be happier about it.

[enforcerbutch]

@crookxdrook​

“The pauldron was a tactical decision. Watch.” Rook shifted his arm back to his side and flexed it slightly, the rows of spikes spreading and pointing outward just enough that anybody who may have taken up residence off to his left side would receive an encouraging jab from the firm leather spines to back up out of his space. “And I did wear a nicer shirt- They’re witless but loose with their wallets, all I had to do was look a little more charming than usual and the purse strings couldn’t open fast enough. And for me, ‘more charming than usual’ is just a dress shirt that’s not filled with holes. I still feel like a fuckin’ performing monkey in this though.” He’d already managed to unbutton the first several buttons of the shirt once he’d slipped away, and the sleeve not covered by his pauldron had been rolled back to his elbow, exposing tattoos and scars in equal measure.

As Butch informed him of the low-hanging butterfly, Rook shrugged his shoulders. “I think some of them are doing it on purpose, to see how many patrons they can almost-blind. I’ll make sure someone does a recovery on the pieces tonight and hangs them at least as tall as I am, if that would please you, your majesty.” He was clearly just taking the piss, smirk barely hidden behind the martini he was now drinking, his joint set in the ashtray for the time being. “But really, I’ll make sure it’s safe to wander around down there after closing tonight, Can’t do too much about it now, not that I want to with that group still roaming around. I told the bartenders down there not to need me until they clear out.”

It wasn’t that Rook didn’t love the attention, on the contrary, being fawned over by a somewhat ditzy pack of people from out of Clubs was typically something he embraced, but much like the alchemist across the bar, the concubus was hung over. A fact he confessed to as he nodded in agreement to the observation that avoiding hydration was a hell of a way to get drunk and make a night of it. “I don’t even bother with water anymore, a healer can repair your lungs and liver to brand new, might as well get there as fast as possible, you know? Client took me out gambling late last night. Wouldn’t let me wander off to play, so I just stood behind him and drank myself stupid. Woke up today just in time to play prettyboy for my ah, ‘fan club.’ So this-” a moment to lift his drink. “Is my plan to recover.”

he took another long swallow off his ‘recovery plan’ and groaned as he sat it back down. “To their credit, my reputation often proceeds me. Everyone who’s heard anything about me has at least some awareness that I’m easy like most concubi. They just missed the part where I’m only easy for cash, and a four of hearts doesn’t have the spare coin to throw around to get me in bed- they’ve got enough for me to pretend they might have a chance though, you don’t get where I am by politely letting people down- gotta keep the dream alive, or whatever.”

Rook, to his credit, was nice enough not to point out the whine of joy that escaped Butch’s throat at the arrival of his food, instead downing the last of his drink and turning bright blue eyes to the rough wood crate sitting on his bar top, bending down to produce a similar looking one full of empty bottles. “Kept these from the potions I sold as mixers, figured you might want them back.” He reasoned, sitting it on the corner of the countertop, the bottles inside clinking faintly against one another.

“I’ll give it to you, Butch, you’ve got a way with alchemy I can’t turn my nose up at, the third floor’s over the moon about the shit you peddle, I might have some other buyers to send your way once I’ve sorted out if they’re trustworthy. Some of the interested parties have a few more….Dings on their records than even I do, and the last thing I want to do is send a snitch your way.” Self-serving at his core, Rook’s concern was barely that the alchemist might get into something, and more that if he did the concubus would have to try and find another supplier.

Butch raises an eyebrow, amusement curling the corners of his mouth as he watches Rook’s pauldron spread out to stab theoretical guests. Honestly, he’d probably laugh his ass off if he saw Rook use the thing to wield off unsavory guests. If his head hadn’t been throbbing he may have even suggested going back down to the crowded first floor to see how well the thing actually worked. But his head was throbbing, and he had a large bowl of noodles headed his way, so moving was really off the table.

“Oh trust me, I’ll let you know when the dress-up makes you look like a performing monkey.” The Alchemist nods his head sagely, the slightly twitching corner of his lips the only clue to his amusement at the thought. “Right now I’d say you look like what a highranking Club looks like in every sheltered young bloods idealized fantasies of this faction. So, probably what you were going for. Or at least, what they were looking for.”

An elaborate hand wave over the bar, and a snobbish, “Excellent, my good man,” from a clearly joking Diamond. “Yeah it’s not anything urgent, just figured I’d let you know while I was thinkin’ about it.”

Butch nods along as the King of Clubs speaks, knowing there’s a kind of fucked up sense to the words. “Yeah, it’s amazing what healers can do these days. Makes the dangers of living on the edge seem a whole lot less dangerous. I usually pop into a clinic once a year or so and just make ‘em do an overhaul. I’m sure they hate those visits but hey, I shell the coin out.” A small shrug. Honestly, wasn’t coming in regularly to fix the organs he’d abused better than waiting until they shit out on them? They should thank him for the consistency, really, his yearly clinic visit was one of the only things he was supposed to do with regularity that he actually did.

“Listen, it’s a tried and true plan.” Holding up his own drink in a pseudo toast, Butch takes a long drink before setting it down onto the bar.

He tucks into his bowl of noodles, humming happily as the flavor envelops his tongue. Watching Rook bring out a smaller box he nods his head, washing down his mouthful of food with a swig of the beer before he speaks. “Thanks, that helps a lot. You’d be surprised how expensive those stupid things are, especially the ones that can be used to heat elements and not just store things. Glass blowers in this city really took the piss when they found out their trade was on the rise.” A rather lame ending but the meaning was clear enough.

Glancing around as his status as an Alchemist was stated plainly, Butch sighs inwardly but lets it go. They were far enough away from prying ears it probably wouldn’t get back to any of the parties in Diamonds he needed that tidbit of knowledge kept from. Plus, this was Rook’s bar, who the fuck spies on the King of Clubs in his own damn house?

“Thanks, mate,” a lopsided grin. “I appreciate all the business I can get. I’ve got a ‘face’ I usually use for the really unsavory types, guy I arrested a while back. He’s a fuckin’ idiot when it comes to common sense but that’s what makes him the kinda guy that’d sooner be tortured than rat on his ‘friends’.” A small uncaring shrug, “Let me know if I should use him for any of these guys, I’ll gladly send him over.”

[angel-reyes]