"You've got the flexibility of a bloody circus act," Lee comments, watching the entire scene out from a distance. "Didn't know a crime boss needed to ask for permission, aye." While bitterness had subsided somehow, traces of it are very much still present. "It's all yours, darling."
Sam straightens, hands on his hips as he turns toward Lee. Hell, he even makes a face. "I asked for your blessing then, I'll ask for it now." The appeal of what floats in that jar has worn off now. In all fairness, it's not as though Sam would have much to do with it aside from assign it as a paper weight. "Keep your balls," displayed and otherwise. "How's the other woman working with you?"
Greece. Not the country, but the Murad's home named after the place — abandoned by Petros, but enjoyed by Anaïs when her own home bored her to tears. Now, she upholds her part of the deal in keeping the house alive; upgrading old architectural choices and keeping it modern.
It's rare to see her this way: heels off, casual in her own world. She picks up a painting and moves it to a different spot on the wall.
"Oh, to bore the great chess-master with aesthetic choices." It's more than just likely, that Anaïs had hit her father with the same joke before. How peculiar has it been, to watch Samar replace him overnight. "Though I suppose all you do is an aesthetic choice." Who lives— who dies— who loses all sense of self under merciless torture. The mafia boss special.
In just months, Sam's life has changed for the... better? It's hard to say, the way it all turned upside down. To go from deep in the details at a molecular level to high, high above, Sam wonders if half the job of mafia boss is boredom. His contact is limited, his interactions are limited, his reach is far and yet, he barely extends his reach at all. Lee has it covered. Philippe has it covered. And Sam is in Greece.
Not quite the Greece he'd had in mind, but he's not picky.
He's standing back, watching her move the painting. He even tilts his head slightly for effect. "A little to the left." It's a joke. It's straight. At least, he thinks it is. Now, he's just observing her. Enjoying her company, and their time in Greece.
"Better the chess master than a piece on the board." Now he sees the painting is lopsided when compared to the soft, straight line of her shoulders. Sam steps up, reaching his arms around either side of her to adjust the painting a little to the right. "Though," he will admit, "sometimes I miss the action." And Lee. It's been different since he bought his way up.
"Good point but I think my goal is more of making sure less people come to the hospital," he replied with a smile. That was really the doctors goal, to get his patients healthy. "Well there are stupid people always doing dumb stuff so i think I really picked a job with amazing job security," he added. "I have been good, what about you?".
A quiet chuckle is pulled from him, even perhaps a little against his will. Sam offers a small nod. So this is a true good guy, then. Or, perhaps, he's simply a fantastic actor that wasted his talent. "Doing great, Doc. My buddy was sad to say goodbye to his cast." As was Sam, who wrote all over it like a goon. Curious still, though. "Dumb people..." that's something he is very familiar with. "Dumbest thing you've had to deal with at work?"
"Rich people do a lot of random things on purpose," Rahi says, now with enough knowledge by proximity to have it as fact. "I mean— You're rich now. I'm rich now." How's that, for two brown kids from Queens? "But you know what I mean."
Then, the question makes him pause. It's a long one, too. "Nah, man. When we were kids, it was my responsibility to take care of her. But I'm a dad now — and that means I have to take care of them, first. There isn't a world where I'm a father and part of the Brotherhood, all at once. I always knew it had to be one or the other."
A hum of agreement escapes Sam - rich people do bizarre things. They buy crime syndicates, they go to space and get paid to do it. They rush into everything, having only time to really consider the meaning of it all in the aftermath. And they have enough money to have few, if any, regrets.
Rahi's answer leaves Sam in silence for a moment. Where once was resentment is now silent consideration. If Charlie were still here, Sam doubts he would have gone this far. Now, he nods. "Protecting them comes first," however we must, in whatever way we can. "Looks good on you." A real compliment, then. "You look happy." Beat. "How old are they, now?"
It had been a long shift and the doctor was covering for a few doctors. His son and his nanny where had the zoo, they had sent him pictures. He loved seeing his son have fun, play and learn about all the animals. He was happy they got this because he never had that childhood. Levi was not ready to head home yet and so he decided to go grab some coffee and ran into Sam. The doctor was good with faces.
"Hello, it's nice running into you out here instead of the hospital," he spoke with a smile.
Sam is only so good with faces, which is why it takes him just a second to place the man speaking to him now. So many crowded rooms, so many people day in and day out - it's a wonder he can keep anything straight anymore. But he must, and he does. "Well, that's nice but not exactly good for business." No one in hospitals? No job security. "How've you been, doc?"
philippe stood still, his posture relaxed, hands behind his back "canova chased perfection to the point of fracture" he said, acknowledging sam's presence. eyes dropping to the placard beneath the sculptures "that's the risk of pressure without restraint. i'd prefer we avoid the cracks" the man admitted, now facing the other "is there anything you need handled?"
Sam has always appreciated Philippe. It's not his vibrant personality, not by a long shot, but the quiet, cold logic that he rules his world with. Everything has a place, everything has a reason, nothing is left to chance. Fully clean, all the time. He'd been an obvious choice, the most methodical to take up his mantle. Most of all, Sam appreciates his careful candor through a medium he isn't at all knowledgeable in. "You know, you can speak plainly." He sips his cup of mediocre coffee he had purchased from a cart outside. "I promise not to plate your head." Wouldn't that be an interesting piece of art to commission, though?
MORE: Syndicate Member (grifter/con artist), 'day job' at Sam's security company
When Samar Burman joined the syndicate and met his future best friend forever, a new circle of Hell was unlocked unto the world.
Their personalities were fast to click, leaving an otherwise cautious Sam sure that this particular criminal was perfectly safe. They would sit together in meetings, work together when opportunity presented, did all the things work besties do. Hell, they transcended work besties. Sam folded him into his personal life, letting his son Charlie go so far as call him uncle. He stuck around, and when Sam's world imploded, he stayed around—just as Sam has for him when times get tough.
A few little tidbits about the connection I have in my head:
He's very social, particularly within the Syndicate
Dry, sarcastic humor. More witty, less punny.
Has been in NYC for at least 30 years if not his whole life
Talking about the past doesn't get weird between these two
First person Sam recruits when he's using the Security company for Syndicate things
Absolutely go out on Valentine's day together to gossip about the couples they see out and about
Will lie and say it's someone's birthday to get a free dessert at a restaurant (public humiliation is a plus)
Took at least three trips to the Galactic Starcruiser with Sam before it's untimely closure
Sam is sat across from Ava at what may be the most pretentious restaurant he's ever been in. A Michelin star, single—maybe more? He wasn't paying attention. He was, in fact, trying to find the safest thing on the menu because tonight is high risk, no actual reward. Blowfish and chaos are on the menu. His attention lifts to Ava, beautiful as she is murderous, the moment Jeeves walks away to procure a bottle of overpriced wine. "I suppose now would be the correct time to have second thoughts, if any, about gambling with this room."
"Darling," Sam is bent over, looking at a specimen from a particular private collection. He's not entirely sure what it is, but it is exceptionally fascinating. He glances in Lee's direction—his wife, never the other woman. "Do you think I could borrow these testes?" What else could it be?
The world is healing, or so they say. Sam doesn't have any muffins or baked goods or leftovers in hand, but he did grab an extra coffee from the street vendor outside on his way in to the old bookstore that houses secrets that transcend the pages within. He mills around until he finally finds her, standing between towering shelves of dusty tomes. "Madame," he holds the coffee out to her. It's as if they'd never experienced a blip. Sam is determined to move on from the past, even if her scars demand he remember. "There may or may not be actual dirt in these cups." Beat. "Very well seasoned."
That would sound, Rahi thinks, like the consequences of your own actions. With all such recent happenings however, challenging a criminal overlord might not be the best route of action. Even the brightest mind couldn't engineer itself out of that.
"Why would someone go through so much trouble only to ruin it from the inside out?" It's a complex, yet simple equation. All it takes is a fool who thinks himself king. "I mean, yeah. From that perspective, I get it. But now you're stuck with it. Is the trade off—" Rahi pauses. "Worth it?"
A heavy sigh follows. It answers the question before Rahi can. "Turns out she's her own person, and I can't do anything about it." He's tried.
"I don't think they would've done it on purpose." In short, he thinks they're all too stupid to be managing this, these people who live in excess. The second question is equally easy, and yet, not at all: "It wasn't a great leap, only a great sum." Sam would shrug through it, but even knowing he could buy it didn't stop him from feeling sick when he counted the zeroes in his head. "Too soon to tell." How is that for honesty, Rahi?
A quiet, humorless huff of a laugh escapes him at the sigh. "She knows better," he mutters, shaking his head slightly. Still, there's a smile on his face. Just a little one. "Do you regret breaking out of it, now that she's on the inside?"
Sam: Zaire came with a fed. I'm with him and Contreras now
Sam: We need to make sure this doesn't become a problem for us
Sam: Can you find them and work your magic? All I ask is that we don't start a war tonight
