07-23-2025, 09:53 PM
Adrian took his time.
He entered the penthouse with the casual poise of a man who already owned the floor. Because in this case, he did. In every legal and metaphysical sense of the word, the Radiance was his. Not leased. Not loaned. Owned. Brick, air, title, and blood with links throughout the entire city. The network of an invisible army.
Tonight, though, he relinquished the duties of host. Tonight, he was something else. A guest of sorts, but an honored one.
His suit was midnight blue, cut sharp and custom-fitted to accentuate the broadness of his shoulders and the line of his frame. Understated gold cufflinks winked beneath the sleeves. A tie the dipped behind a vest taught against his chest.
He made a slow circuit of the room. No greetings. No small talk. Just a quiet, assessing sweep of those gathered already.
He recognized Yuta Hayashi, already seated like a statue. Stoic and unmovable as usual. Three other familiar faces were behind him, watching everyone’s hands. Meanwhile, the Russians weren’t here yet. Typical, he supposed, and wondered which of the families would show first. Zixin, of course, already claimed his place at the head of the table, chin tilted with his usual blend of menace and playfulness. Good. Let him have his moment - kid had balls. Adrian wasn’t here to steal the show. He was here to make them remember who he was.
He completed the circuit and slid into a seat not at the head, not at the foot, but center-left. Adrian crossed one ankle over the opposite knee, draped an arm lazily over the chair’s back. The vantage was precise. He could watch every face and every twitch of reaction. More importantly, every other man in the room would be able to watch him doing it.
He entered the penthouse with the casual poise of a man who already owned the floor. Because in this case, he did. In every legal and metaphysical sense of the word, the Radiance was his. Not leased. Not loaned. Owned. Brick, air, title, and blood with links throughout the entire city. The network of an invisible army.
Tonight, though, he relinquished the duties of host. Tonight, he was something else. A guest of sorts, but an honored one.
His suit was midnight blue, cut sharp and custom-fitted to accentuate the broadness of his shoulders and the line of his frame. Understated gold cufflinks winked beneath the sleeves. A tie the dipped behind a vest taught against his chest.
He made a slow circuit of the room. No greetings. No small talk. Just a quiet, assessing sweep of those gathered already.
He recognized Yuta Hayashi, already seated like a statue. Stoic and unmovable as usual. Three other familiar faces were behind him, watching everyone’s hands. Meanwhile, the Russians weren’t here yet. Typical, he supposed, and wondered which of the families would show first. Zixin, of course, already claimed his place at the head of the table, chin tilted with his usual blend of menace and playfulness. Good. Let him have his moment - kid had balls. Adrian wasn’t here to steal the show. He was here to make them remember who he was.
He completed the circuit and slid into a seat not at the head, not at the foot, but center-left. Adrian crossed one ankle over the opposite knee, draped an arm lazily over the chair’s back. The vantage was precise. He could watch every face and every twitch of reaction. More importantly, every other man in the room would be able to watch him doing it.