♔ PROMPT 01 — 𝟠/𝟚𝟡/𝟙𝟡
PHILIP had always been a creature of habit when it came to his morning routine. He’d grab himself breakfast from his favorite bakery and a coffee, starting his day without either of those was futile. Though he could sense it in the air, how very different, unsettling even, the morning was from the norm. Each citizen he passed seemed to be buzzing about something, though he assumed it was the murder of Mayor Monette, which had only happened the previous morning.
HE still couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the recent events nor could he stop himself from wondering if it had been someone from the syndicate. It was plain as day for Philip to see, how Monette had been in the pocket of the Delacroix family; a fact he’d picked up at long ago at a HIGH SOCIETY function. With that knowledge in mind, the young Bourbon began to wonder if the former mayor had tried to cross someone within the mafia and paid for it with his life.
THE man exited the cafe, a fresh cup of coffee gripped tightly in his hand as he made his way down the street toward Beechwood eager to hear if anyone else at The Whiskey Goddess had heard the truth behind what had happened. Or better yet, if someone was responsible for it. After all, it did happen in Old Champigné, which had been their romping grounds for a few years now. Though the front page of la Champigné Journal that someone had been reading caused him to take pause and find the nearest newsstand so he could read it for himself.
HE knew nothing more about the author of the article except they were a member of the HIGH SOCIETY and he’d always remembered them being close with the mayor’s daughter. Though something told him that friendship ended the moment this article hit the press. THE GOSSIP seemed to be constantly eluding to a criminal organization that the late-Mayor was working with, but surely it couldn’t mean the syndicate, he reassured himself. They’d never had any sort of dealings with the Monette’s. At least, as far as he knew—and Philip knew more than enough to be kept in the loop.
THE more he read the more he found his stomach twisting into knots as he thought of how things would have to change for them. How they would have to try harder than ever to stay out of the spotlight and to refrain from drawing attention to themselves. Something he’d never thought to be the syndicate’s strong suit. The paper ended up in the nearest trash can, only half-read, and Philip continued on his way to the goddess, hoping—praying, that someone had the answers they would surely need to escape the mess they found themselves in.
