with: @adrianxdiaz where: city hall when: march 24th, 1997
"I can't believe my eyes." A low whistle echoed through the corridor as Sévérine sauntered with purpose, the smirk not dissimilar to a cat with a bird in its mouth, and callous disinterest for the social faux pas as he declared loudly, "So, your old man finally kicked the bucket. In a gnarly way, too, no?" The translator stopped a few feet back — he knew his inflammatory comments would facilely chuck him in the firing range if he poked in the right spot of their soft underbelly. It garnered too much passive entertainment for him to rile up the city council members, when he could get at it. The board of council for the Weiss family themselves... that was a different story — they had thicker skin, almost like snakes. Shedding them when the time was right, and a tough exterior. "No leads so far on who shot the old man? Crime could really use some polishing up in the city." There was a jest that could be had in there that would be untoward, and he had the smarts enough to not run his mouth over the line as long as he was in the building. "What are we meeting about today?" Another press coverage would be his guess — the news would be fixated for weeks on end about the blemish on the city's name, and calling into question security in Las Vegas.