@esradurmaz | Esra and Harvey, Sapphire Royale
He's learned finery over the years. How to dine at fine establishments, talk neoclassical art with waifs who gather in the art scene, and twist his English accent to sound posher than his slum-like heritage. It helps, of course, that his bank account is lined comfortably with many allies and unwitting accomplices. The jewel of that - Esra Durmaz, New York's most prolific and connected art consultant. Harvey appears, five minutes late, sliding across her. It's hard to look at her and her self-satisfied family, without remembering the woman he loved and the speed in which he lost her. Still, he doesn't let it show, instead humming as he settles in and unravels his napkin.
"Started without me, I see." He hums at her already filled glass, motioning for one of his own. "How are you?" He asks, seemingly pleasant, as if he hasn't been the ghost over her shoulder for some time now. "Down to brass tacks... I need your connections to tell me what exactly happened that night on the island." And while Esra has no love for him, her secret burns long enough that he reliably call upon her for his own endeavors.