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A promise
#1
By eleven-thirty, Kallisti was busy. Word was out on the quiet little Burlesque house, which on one hand made the exclusivity less impressive, but on the other, meant there were more people around to have a little fun. Jaxen's vehicle was one of three Lamborghini Centenarios in line for valet, but he didn't care when he tossed the key-code to the employee at the podium.

He guided Lawrence along the steps and into the front of the House. They recognized him by now, greeting him by name and offering to take his coat. He hesitated at the last moment before slipping it off, having almost forgotten about the need for a high collar obscuring the neck wound. In the dim light of the club it was likely to go unnoticed, but he didn't want to take any chances. Nor did he want to invite questions.

Music welcomed them into the club interior. Table service was full, already, which meant they were guided to a place in front of the stage. He could have bribed the host, but he wasn't exactly a bottomless bucket of money these days. Mom helped him out where dad cut him off, but even she would frown at the bill from a Burlesque House if he dropped enough to get noticed. Not that he was cheap, but he needed a few days to get his own house in order again. The supercomputer in his pocket was going to go a long way to doing just that.

"I promised you real vodka.
He grinned and ordered the premium spirit, on ice, with lime.
"So?" said Loki impatiently.  "This isn't the first time the world has come to an end, and it won't be the last either."
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#2
Anton didn't often come to Kalisti, but their were times when he enjoyed the atmosphere. The emotions were usually jovial in such places and it gave him a proper boost. With the show over, it was nice to have something to focus on.

Anton had arrived and all the tables were full, so they moved him to the front of the stage. That was alright. Emotions were high and that's what he needed. Although he tried to push aside the feelings of lust that came from everywhere. Kalisti was classy, but with burlesque shows came lustful thoughts.

Anton ordered vodka with lime - the finest the house could offer. He sipped at it while not really paying attention to the show happening on the stage in front of him.

A man and a woman soon joined him, and the man - who looked familiar to him - mentioned he promised her real vodka.

Anton smiled. "The vodka is very good."
he raised his own glass.
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#3
Lawrence shuttered to think how expensive the most premium vodka in a place like this could be. That meant she was going to savor every last drop. She ran her own website, her own business. There was no way she could afford something like this. Not without racking up a mountain of credit card debt. (or any more than she already had).

Kallasti was interesting. She didn't claim to be a prude. In fact, she didn't claim much at all, but she stared. The odd thing was, she felt right at home.

Legs crossed, comfortable in the seat, she even let Jaxen parade her around like some trophy prize. Or she let him think that. Really, it was her that led him around. She tugged and he obliged. She curled her fingers around his neck and he bent a cheek. It was adorable.

She leaned aside when another voice offered agreement. He was young and his accent so adorably heavy with eastern flavor. "We will see if you are right."
She put the glass to her lips, flicking green eyes to Jaxen to test his word.

The liquid was unlike anything she'd ever experienced. At first it had no flavor and may have been pure, cold water. Then the aroma swirled in her sinuses. It was smooth as silk. A purr warmed her throat. "Mmm. I love it."
She winked at Jaxen, and leaned to address the stranger as well. He seemed familiar but she couldn't place how. Until she pieced it together, she curled her fingers that he join her, even patting the opposite side of where she sat so Jaxen and he would be forced to compete for her attention.

"Lawrence,"
she placed fingertips to her chest, but smiling coyly to Jaxen, she pat his cheek. "And this darling is Jaxen,"
only to laugh apologetically.

"I am laying it on thick, I suppose. It is good. You were right. You were both right. I wonder which of the two of you knows more about vodka at all."


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#4
Jaxen hooked an arm on the back of his seat to enjoy Lawrence as she finally tasted real vodka. The look on her face didn't disappoint. He laughed and sipped from his own glass. "Now this is my motherland," he said. But it seemed his wasn't the only authentically Russian voice interested in Lawrence this night.

He twisted around and lifted the glass, "Za vstrechu!"
he said and downed the glass to the bottom. He then poured their seconds in good traditional Russian fashion. "Mezhdu pervoy i vtoroy pereryvchik ne bolshoy!"
(Let no time pass between our first and second rounds!)

Once the second glass was emptied, Jaxen relaxed. He offered the other guy a handshake. A good ole russian boy drinking vodka was not someone Jaxen would automatically dismiss. "Jaxen Marveet,"
he offered. "I have taken on the responsibility of showing our American friend here a night on the town."
"So?" said Loki impatiently.  "This isn't the first time the world has come to an end, and it won't be the last either."
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#5
Rodin and Luka stepped from the car, telling the driver to hang close. They individually studied Kallisti's glowing exterior, glanced at each other like they weren't surprised and made for the front door.

The two Russians each wore fine suits with large enough jackets to hide what they carried beneath. Luka was older by a handful of years, but both were thick, strong men. The bouncers at the front nodded like they recognized one of their own kind. Rodin paused to explain, "We're looking for someone. We won't be inside long." They paid the entrance fee without complaint and were told to check weapons. Rodin opted to remain at the front door with both their firearms in his care, mostly because they didn't want to deal with the hassle of extra time needed to register, check, and promptly return their weapons. They seriously didn't think this would take more than a minute.

Luka stopped at the bar and waved over one of the workers. "I'm looking for Jaxen Marveet," he said without preamble. There was no point describing the kid. Luka had a feeling they would know exactly who he was.
"So?" said Loki impatiently.  "This isn't the first time the world has come to an end, and it won't be the last either."
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#6
Raffe's welcoming grin faltered at the request. Not that the guy wasn't polite, but the identity of Kallisti's patrons was not something lightly splurged from the lips of its employees. He kinda wanted to keep his job. "Sorry, friend."
He shrugged, absorbing the fine suit and sober expression the man wore. It was Carmen who interrupted, drawn most likely by the same qualities Raffe was eyeing now. Her red hair sat neatly on her shoulders, and her gaze narrowed like she found something distasteful. Oriena might own the place, but Carmen was the boss. She glanced the man over a moment, perhaps deciding if this was going to cause trouble. Raffe didn't recognise the name, but something in Carmen's expression suggested she did. After a moment, she simply nodded towards one of the tables.
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#7
Luka frowned at the kid. He didn't particularly want to walk around looking for Jaxen. They knew he was here. His credit card said as much. Technically, it was his mother's credit card, but Luka wasn't in a position to know how Scion tracked his ex-wife's accounts. He wasn't stupid enough to ask about it.

He was about to give up when one of the young women in the place kicked a nod in one direction. Luka's brows lifted, he turned to study what she indicated, and he smiled. "Thanks. Saved me at least 5 minutes walking around looking for the little shit."

He left a tip behind and found his way to Jaxen. He sat with a rather gloriously beautiful redhead. He nodded toward her, "Excuse the interruption," he began rather politely, yet his stance indicated he wasn't going anywhere. "Mister Marveet would like to see you. Now."
"So?" said Loki impatiently.  "This isn't the first time the world has come to an end, and it won't be the last either."
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#8
Anton offered the woman and man a smile in return as well as his name. "Anton Stepanov,"


Like the other Russian, Anton emptied his second glass as soon as he got it, repeating the other man's Russian words. The vodka went down quickly and like a true Russian - Anton didn't shudder. He just simply enjoyed the flavor.

Both names rang a bell in Anton's mind, although he couldn't place where he had heard Lawrence's. The Marveet family was well known in Russia, however, and briefly Anton wondered if the man was a patron of the arts or not.

A group approached and Anton could feel their sense of urgency. They approached the table and demanded that Jaxen go and see his father. Anton didn't interrupt, rather he waited for Jaxen to. It was his business.
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#9
Lawrence hummed with amusement over the behaviors of the two. Meanwhile, she filed away the second man's name to put into a search later just to see if anything interesting came up. She was not so quick to join them for another toast, however. She could hold her own when it came to alcohol, but even two shots right in a row was too much too fast. She disliked losing control, something alcohol stole rather quickly if one wasn't diligent.

She looked up with the others when a suit approached. Twin brows lifted in curiosity while she briefly scanned the room. "Oh? Is he here?"
she inquired with an easy smile. If so, she had every intention on meeting him.
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#10
Jaxen recognized Luka as one of his father's goons. However, he didn't exactly make a move to get up.
"Oh? Is he claiming me again? Let me guess, it has something to do with how it's a fashionable thing to have channelers in the family after all that show at the Red Square?"
He absently waved a hand that direction. Just so Lawrence could track what was going on, Jaxen tapped his own chest and mouthed the word channeler and grinned proudly.

Luka ignored the theatrics. "Come on, Jaxen. The longer this drags out, the worse it ends." He stated plainly.

Jaxen's brows curled in thought. He never really had a problem with Luka, or any of his dads goons, for the most part they were decent fellows and great drinking partners. Luka himself had given Jaxen a good run for his money when they spent a night at a card table. Instead, he pat Lawrence on the shoulder and pointed a toe toward the vodka, "I have a beautiful woman to keep company and a bottle of vodka to drink. Why would I leave such good friends?"


Luka didn't seem amused. He crossed his arms and waited silently.

Jaxen rolled his eyes, "Alright fine."


He got up and offered a hand to Lawrence. "Care to join me?"
he grinned, but Luka stepped in.
"She can't come." He stated.
Jaxen's brows lifted, "Oh? Is that right? If she doesn't go, I don't go."
And he sat back down.

He and Luka had a mini-stare down but when Luka finally realized Jaxen was serious, he sighed and bid them to follow.

He helped her to her feet. To Anton, he shrugged apologetically and offered him the vodka bottle that remained. It was already purchased anyway.

As they left the club, he couldn't help but grin devilishly. When his father found out that Lawrence was more than a beautiful face, she was a reporter, he was going to be furious.
"So?" said Loki impatiently.  "This isn't the first time the world has come to an end, and it won't be the last either."
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