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[Arion Lux]

13th Yaris, 2719
Evening - Black Dove Tavern, Old Rose Harbor

Arion Lux was in search of a man.

Sadly, the quest was not as scandalous or salacious as such a description might make it sound, and even if Arion were in search of a man for such enticing purposes, there were far more sanitary and convenient places to affordably obtain such things, much more appropriate for a man of his standing and persuasions. No: there was very little pleasant or pleasurable about where Arion found himself now, once again forced to endure the fetid environs of the Black Dove after dark; but one did what one must in order to satisfy one's purposes, and the Black Dove was - as best he could discern - where he needed to be in order to find the man he sought.

There had been a moment, as Arion approached the tavern, where he'd entertained the notion that the Black Dove was not as grim as he remembered. After all, he had visited this particular dank abyss some months ago, and found a Ruby among the destitution and despair. Perhaps the Black Dove was not quite the hellscape his memory painted it as. Perhaps there was a certain quaint quality to the establishment, which might slowly grow on him if he gave it enough time. Perhaps -

The first footfall upon the Dove's stained, stinking, slightly tacky floors cut through the haze of certainty that Arion's thoughts had tried to create, and brought everything back into crystal focus. Ah yes, there it was again: the heady cocktail blend of aromas, the scent of the unwashed, of stale beer and stale smoke and stale sweat, of more bodily fluids than Arion cared or dared to count, of damp, and decay, and the drowned sorrows of those who couldn't afford to do their drinking anywhere better. The air was hot and heavy, with sound as much as humidity; too many voices, too much discordant noise; chaos to the ears, to match the shoving, shuffling, squeezing chaos of the crowd that Arion calmly navigated his way through. Something crunched beneath his feet, and Arion uttered a silent prayer of hope to the Circle that it was merely stray food, and not something with more biological complexity. No: the Dove was just as bad as he remembered, and if he ever found himself in a position where anything began to grow on him, he'd likely need to have that body part amputated.

It was hardly the most unsavoury location that Arion had ever visited, of course, and while he regarded the tavern with little other than distaste and distain, there was nothing squeamish about his thoughts or movements or interactions with the space around him and its occupants. Just as there were times when a farmer had to reach an arm inside a calving kenser, so too had Arion's prior occupation required him to reach into such disgusting orifices and liberate the creature he sought. The necessity did not make the act any less unpleasant, but neither did the displeasure render the act unnecessary. What must be done must be done, and it was not made easier or more expedient by wasting any time on reluctance or reticence. In all his years, Arion had never got his hands into something that he wasn't eventually able to scrub off.

Managing to weave his way through the constricting crowd like viscera ousing between the fingers of a clenched hand, Arion found his way to the bar, and to the attention of the tired-eyed and sour-faced barmaid behind it. He ordered a much-needed drink, and soon discovered that the glass it came in possessed the same adhesive quality as the floor beneath his feet. At least, he supposed, such a property would make his drink harder to drop should the crowd sway into him amid its unruly to and fro.

Turning his back to the bar, and leaning himself against it, he took a sip of the unspecified whisky that the barmaid had delivered, and began to scan the Black Dove for someone meeting the vague description he'd been given of Bertold Cooper.

[Breaker Cooper]

Evening on the 13th Yaris, 2719

It was a busy night in the Black Dove, Breaker sat at his favourite spot a table in the back corner away from windows and impossible for anyone to sneak up behind him. You get a big reputation, there’s always some small time looking to make a big name quick, strong, fast and dangerous as Breaker was, he knew you can’t tough out a bullet in the head.

His table had a small circle of calm around it, even on a busy night light tonight. Breaker took a swig from his tankard of Black Comfort and looked around, it was a pleasant evening he smiled to himself a fine time to relax and forget about the cares of the day.

It was around then a fight broke out over a game of dice at a table across from Breaker’s.

“Vrunta! You clocking cheat!”

A witch yelled with venom.

“Don’t talk shit you mung tumble, I ain’t cheating.”

The scrawny ugly rat faced man sneered back, at which point the witch smashed him across the face with a tankard and went reeling back into another man. Who in turn stumbled and drunkenly lashed out at the closest person and the fight spread like a blaze. Until rat face burst from the melee, stumbled, tripped and crash into Breakers table, sending his tankard and ash tray crashing to the dirty floor of the Black Dove.

A hush fell over that end of the pub, the brawlers closet to Breaker’s table stopped and look. Rat face looked around bleery eye about to give some choice insults when he saw who’s table he had knocked into then his face drained of colour.


Breaker slowly took the cheap cigar from his mouth and regarded rat face with eyes like flat black pools. He said softly.

“Oh dear.”

“I’m sorry Mr Breaker, I didn’t mean t…”

Which was as far as he got, Breaker was up out of his chair and holding rat face by the throat a good foot off the ground, quick as a striking snake.
Without any more words Breaker smashed rat face’s head into the table and then into the wall, before walking to the back door which gave out onto a stinking alley and threw the limb body outside and softly shut the door again. Once the door was closed, the small crowd went back about their business like nothing had happened.

Breaker picked up the tankard from the floor and walked over to the bar. This evening he was dressed in tan trousers and a red waistcoat over a grey shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the collar undone.

He placed the tankard on the bar and said, his tone relaxed and even, like the last few minutes hadn't happened.

“Another pint of the Black Comfort, please my good man.”

[Arion Lux]

13th Yaris, 2719
Evening - Black Dove Tavern, Old Rose Harbor

There was such a thing as making an entrance, though Arion was unsure quite how the expression applied if one was already there. Certainly, Mr. Cooper had made his presence known; and there was simply no doubting that the man who fit Arion's expectations so precisely was indeed the man he was seeking.

For a moment, Arion allowed himself to consider the circumstances that had just transpired. Mr. Cooper's outburst had been sudden, and violent, precisely what one might expect from a man who went by Breaker. It had been provoked, yes, but was the response proportional? Arion wasn't sure he had enough evidence to say; there was unknown context, the potential for past slights and past grievances; a running theme of Mr. Cooper being disturbed in such away, or a prior history of the same individual causing the same sorts of problems, perhaps. But there was more too than just the superficial that needed to be weighed and considered. Cooper was a fighter, a brawler, and a somewhat theatrical one at that, from what Arion had heard. How much of that was innate, and how much was showmanship, that was anyone's guess: but either way, such people had reputations to maintain, and Arion knew from first-hand experience the kind of lengths a person might be willing to go to in order to live up to a reputation that they'd cultivated and earned. Had this been Cooper's natural reaction, or simply the expected one? Or, at this stage, was there little to differentiate between the two?

Certainly, the Black Dove did not seem particularly surprised. There had been a hush as the fighter had expatriated the offending drunkard from the tavern, but as Breaker's calm exterior had settled back into place, so too had the crowd's: were such events so regular that the other patrons had merely become accustomed to them, or were they all wise enough to follow the lead of a man who, from the look of him, could probably manage to take a good majority of them on single-handed without so much as ruffling his suit.

Arion could perhaps have tried to discern such things through observation, or subtlety, but of course there was no need. "That sort of thing happen often?" he asked, imposing himself on the edge of Breaker's attention just enough for it to be clear who the question was directed towards, but not so much that it would - he hoped - be an unwelcome encroachment. He took a calm sip of his drink, before settling it on the bar behind him, twisting his stance just so and letting his hands lace together casually in front of him. Calm. Non-threatening. Just a casual fellow patron, looking to make a little casual small-talk while the taller man waited for his drink. And taller he was - Arion felt practically towered over, the somewhat-average and hardly muscular galdori a far cry from the hulking behemoth of muscle that stood beside him. "From the way my soles are sticking to the floor, I'd wager that a drink gets knocked astray in this place with almost alarming regularity."

He made a slightly more overt show of glancing the man up and down, allowing a falsified flash of almost recognition dance across his features. "You wouldn't happen to be Bertold Cooper, would you?" He pushed out an almost silent chuckle, and retrieved his glass again, tilting it towards the human in salute. "Made the mistake of betting against you a few night's back. Not an error that my accounts are keen on me repeating."

[Breaker Cooper]

Text

Evening, 13th Yaris, 2719

As Breaker waited for his drink he felt a pair of eyes on him, a stranger's eyes. You didn’t get to his age and reputation with developing a sense for these kinds of things. He slowly turned towards the voice and regarded the galdor curiously. His dark eyes glinting in the lantern light, his face impassive. Breaker watched him speak and waited until he had finished. He held his gaze in silence for another heartbeat and then a grin spread across his face.

“You seem to ‘ave me at a disadvantage. I am indeed Bertold Cooper. You I do not know. Now there are three reasons people come to find me."

Breaker held up three broad fingers.

“Number one, they are looking to make a quick reputation by ending me, small men on the shoulders of giants an’ the like."

He chuckled and folded one finger over.

“Number two, they are lookin’ to hire me to inflicted ‘orrible and bloody violence upon some poor unfortunate soul.”"

He folded the next finger over, leaving only his index finger and paused. Breaker slowly looked the galdor up and down, a grin pulled at his lips.

“Number three, that they are looking for me for more, personal services."

He folded down the last finger and laid his fist on the bar, once more he looked the man up and down, still grinning laughed and said.

“You don’t seem like the kind who ‘as come to me for the first reason. Which of course leaves the second or the third."

He stuck out his shovel like right hand.

“Call me Breaker, oh and that unpleasantness you witnessed is a rare occurrence. People normally know to be more careful. Did you really bet on my last fight?"

Breaker picked up his tankard and took an almost dainty sip before dabbing at his immaculate moustache with a handkerchief which he turned to his waistcoat.

“Would you care to join me at my table sir?"

[Arion Lux]

13th Yaris, 2719
Evening - Black Dove Tavern, Old Rose Harbor

He was forward. Direct. Arion liked that. Perhaps he should have expected as much from a person who had been so quick and yet controlled in their outburst of violence; but Arion was forced to admit, privately, that he had misjudged the man. Someone far more logical and discerning than Arion would have expected was lurking beneath all those muscles and scars. Perhaps this Breaker might prove more useful than the simplicity of his name might suggest.

"I'm afraid you're a little too much man for me, as far as reason three is concerned," Arion replied, with a chuckle of his own, grasping the proffered hand with his own with a firm grip that didn't seek to outmatch Breaker's, but was hardly weak and floundering either. He contemplated the man's words, and the scenarios he had presented. Perhaps the implication of carnal interest was a deliberate attempt to leave him flustered - it is what Arion would have done, were their situations reversed - or perhaps solicitation really was something that the man contended with on a regular basis. It certainly seemed plausible, Breaker had a certain something about him that would no doubt appeal to a certain kind of someone, and one did not spend two decades as a lawyer without completely burning away one's sense of surprise over the varied proclivities and preferences of humans and galdori alike.

As Breaker took a sip of his drink, Arion did the same. Whether it was a subconscious act of mimicry or a leftover vestige of finer living he wasn't sure, but the beverage that alleged to be whisky certainly washed away any pretence of high society from his mind. "Arion Lux," he introduced, hoping to quash any future iterations of sir before they reoccurred. The politeness and civility of it were noted, of course, but part of Arion's exodus from Vienda to Old Rose Harbor had been an effort to escape such things, to wriggle free of the social structures and obligations that had made his continued life there so uncomfortable and intolerable. Another sip of the whisky was taken, the fluid finally numbing his tastebuds enough that it had become a moderately pleasant experience. "And no, I'm afraid gambling isn't really my thing: I'm just accustomed to a certain necessary level of misdirection and finesse in my conversations. I'm a Viendan lawyer in recovery. Old habits die hard, and all that."

Another sip was taken, the glass loitering in Arion's hand, contents swaying with his subtle gesticulations. "In fact, I much prefer to invest my money with longer-term returns in mind. Which I suppose puts me in the reason two category, or thereabouts. Though, I believe we already have a common thread in that regard; a certain set of siblings with whom we are both acquainted, shall we say? So yes -" Another sip, one carefully slipped past a smile that curled at the corners of Arion's mouth. "The privacy of your table would almost certainly be a good idea."

[Breaker Cooper]

Text

13th Yaris, 2719

Of course Arion, if you'd follow me."

As they walked people got out of their way, like a bow wave. He glanced over his shoulder at Arion, a slight grin on his face. At the table he indicated the seat across from his and waited for Arion to sit before he sat down. He took another sip from his tankard and dapped at his immaculate black moustache with a handkerchief from a waistcoat pocket. He had the dress and manner of a gentleman, but the face hands of brawler and an air that said if he hit anything but the thickest walls at speed he’d leave a Breaker shaped hole in it.

"Now, Arion you mentioned friends we have in common. You'd have to either very brave, or a the world's own fool to lie about that, so I shall believe you."

He smiled and took a battered leather cigar case from a trouser pocket and set it down on the table.

"So, you've come to seek me out with the intention of hirin' me. My rates is reasonable, how much depends on what you want doin', I ain't squeamish and have no time for mercy. Anyone who has caused someone to wish to set me upon them must have done something sufficiently awful to have deserved it, after all."

Breaker laughed and held his broad hands wide.

"That and I don't much care about reasons. Honestly, I enjoy my work and I'm good at it."

Still smiling he bought both hands back to the table and pointed one heavy finger at Arion and said in an almost conversational tone.

"However, if you cross, betray or in some other manner try to set me up. I will smash you like a bowl of eggs. Ye chen?"."

Despite the light tone and slight smile on his face, his cold black killer's eyes left no doubt to the validity of his words.

He took a rough rolled cigar from the case, the tobacco was almost black. He holed the end with a pin attached to his watch chain and placed it between his lips and lit it from the table candle. Once the end was glowing to his satisfaction he sat back in his chair and let two streams of smoke curl from his nose. He gestured with his free hand towards the case.

"Help yourself Arion."

Breaker appraised Arion through the smoke, as a dragon might, and said.

"Regardin' what you said earlier. I can, when the mood takes me, be gentle."

He grinned, cigar between his teeth as he ran the tip of his tongue over the three gold teeth. Breaker's eyes glinted with laughter, lust and dark promise.

[Arion Lux]

13th Yaris, 2719
Evening - Black Dove Tavern, Old Rose Harbor

If Arion were to describe Breaker in a single word, it would have been uncouth. Perhaps that would have been an unfair description, for the man certainly seemed to have gone to some lengths to appear cultured and refined, but to borrow a colourful idiom, just because you put a dress on a pig didn't make it a beautiful maiden. A swine was a swine, and no matter how fancy his moustache or waistcoat, it would end up rolling around in the muck eventually all the same.

But muck-rolling was what Arion needed, hypothetically at least. He allowed himself a respectful moment to seem as if he had considered Mr. Cooper's renewed solicitation before responding. It was unwanted, but that didn't necessarily mean it was unwelcome. Cooper was about as far removed from Arion's partner of choice in such matters as it was possible to get, but he'd have been lying if he tried to pretend that a little carnal attention and intention wasn't a pleasant boon to the ego from time to time.

"You'll have to forgive me," he countered with a wry smile, "But no matter how gentle, a man who goes by Breaker just isn't someone I want anywhere near my intimate areas. You know how fragile us galdor can be."

He fell silent, contemplating the brawler for a few moments more. There was something commanding about him, the way he dominated the space around him, the way he demanded attention and privacy in equal measure, the same people who had so readily moved aside as he'd advanced through the crowd now doing their utmost to keep a respectful distance from the table and their conversation, either out of respect for Breaker's privacy, or out of fear of his retaliation if they encroached. Arion wondered if the distinction mattered; whether it was better to be feared or respected; or if Breaker was capable of commanding both.

"Perhaps I should be more specific about my intentions. It is not so much that we have friends in common; more relatives, really. A brother or two, if you take my meaning." He offered a shrug, watching Breaker's reactions as he spoke, wondering if the cigar was a deliberate effort to obscure his features and reactions, or if it was merely a happy coincidence born out of a desire to maintain his veneer of class and culture. "I am a businessman, of many sorts, legitimate and otherwise. Some of that business relates to our mutual siblings, and a great deal of it relies upon contacts and connections."

He allowed himself a small sip of drink, making a mental note to attempt to lure such individuals to the Drink & Quill in the future, rather than meeting on their grounds, so that he'd at least have some level of influence over what he wound up putting in his mouth. "From what I hear, you are a particularly valuable person to know here in the Rose. It seemed prudent to make an effort for the two of us to become acquainted."

[Breaker Cooper]

Text

13th Yaris, 2719

At Arion's polite refusal Breaker slammed a fist into the table top as he let out a roar of laughter. Genuine mirth danced in his dark eyes and he grinned wide.

"Oh yes indeed Arion, very wise."

He nodded and took a sip from his tankard.

"I am indeed well acquainted with the fragility of galdori. Of most folk actually, in my line, it's something you learn. For instance, do you know how much pressure it takes to rip off a man's jaw with your bare hands?"

He took a drag from his cigar and blew a smoke ring. He watched and listened as Arion spoke, his face mostly impassive. Finally when the other man finished Breaker nodded slowly.

"Indeed, you ain't wrong. So this is an interview as it were?"

Breaker regarded Arion, head slightly tilted to one side and said voice contemplative.

"I can tell you are a gentleman, you've an air 'bout you."

He gestured with his cigar, taking in the Black Dove.

"Your dislike of this place and these folks is clear. And yet, here you are. Gettin' your fine shoes dirty, rather than send a summons or the like."

Breaker nodded again and took another drag on his cigar, the heavy rough smoke haloing his head.

"I respect that. You strike me as a man who knows 'imself."

He ashed his cigar.

"I know who and what I am, do you know what that is?"

He grinned and tapped the table with a forefinger and said softly.


"I am a monster, I've known this for a long time and I am at peace with the fact. I have tried many different jobs, none of um stuck. So these days I put on airs and dress an' act like a gent, because I can afford to. On money I earned through bein' a monster."

He took another sip of his wine and placed an elbow on the table and rested his square chin on his fist.

"My father, was a butcher by trade. He taught me the craft see, it's served me well in my work for our relatives."

He locked eyes with Arion. After a pause he sat back and nodded.

"Yes, I like you Mr Arion Lux."

He stuck out a broad hand again.

"I am happy to discuss what you wants doing 'ere. Or we can meet at a place of your choosing."

[Arion Lux]

13th Yaris, 2719
Evening - Black Dove Tavern, Old Rose Harbor

Interview was a strong word, but not necessarily a wrong word; and there it was again, that intuition, that astuteness, that seemed so odd coming from a man whose face heavily suggested that being struck in the head was a regular occurrance. It left Arion feeling strange. He was unaccustomed to being analysed, unaccustomed to being on this side of observations and scrutiny. He was a lawyer, after all: his stock and trade was drawing attention, and then deftly diverting it and deflecting it to his clients, his case, or whatever else it was that needed to be seen and understood. Arion was never that something, and being seen and understood was anathema to the aura he chose to wrap himself in.

Yet, there was something else too: a strange sense of relief, satisfaction even, at having been scrutinised, and judged favourably. He was a galdor, and a relatively respectable one at that. His superiority to the people around them, whom Breaker had speculated upon his dislike for - again, a strong word, but again not necessarily wrong - was a matter of objective fact, and to all intents and purposes, Breaker was one of those people. Arion did not care what they thought, and he had never needed to. Yet, situations had changed. This was not Vienda. His standing in society mattered little in these environs, a drop of fine brandy amid a sea of lukewarm piss. His standing with others was what mattered; with the Brothers; with local businesses; with people; with popular opinion. To function in this place, to succeed, to be of use, he needed contacts and connections. He needed his name to be known, and known favourably. He needed, to some extent, to be liked - and eventually respected, though that more reliable foundation took time to build. So the notion that, mere moments after meeting him, Breaker had reached the conclusion that he liked Arion? Relief. Satisfaction. Purely objective, of course, nothing personal; merely a reaction that would bode well for future dealings.

"We are all monsters, after a fashion," Arion offered with a small smile, taking a firm hold of the proffered hand. Arion drank in Breaker's words like he was taste-testing a wine, letting them sit in his thoughts like flavour on his pallette, weighing each statement before formulating his response. "In Vienda, I was a lawyer. I cut and packaged the law the way I imagine your father cut and packaged meat. I defended those who had enough coin to pay me to do so. I prosecuted to the fullest extent of the evidence and my ability."

His shoulders tugged into a small shrug. If there was any remorse or regret in Arion's mind, his voice did not convey it; he spoke with the same calm eloquence as if he were delivering his opening statement, as if his words were somehow a framework and basis upon which he intended to build his case. In a way, he supposed they were.

"I was no judge, no jury; the weight of the evidence, and the strength of the case, those were what mattered to me. Guilt or innocence, right or wrong, that was someone else's responsibility. I simply did not care, because it was not my place to. If my prosecution led to the conviction of an innocent man, the failing is not mine, nor is it if my defense allowed a guilty man to walk free. To many, that ambivalence makes me a monster. Perhaps they are correct to think so. But to me? You and I, we merely choose to excel in our chosen profession. If that makes us monsters, then at least we can take comfort in being the apex predators."

He drew in a small breath, and inside his lungs it transformed into a small sigh. Perhaps the words were wasted on Breaker; or perhaps the man was a more receptive audience than one might have expected. Arion wasn't sure, though in truth it hardly mattered. After all, Breaker's services had already been offered, and he'd made it plain that morality and justification mattered little to him. Yet Arion offered an explanation all the same, for as Breaker himself had admitted, Arion too found himself liking the man he sat beside, in so much as Arion liked anyone. For Arion Lux, there were - broadly speaking - two kinds of people: those whose names he was willing to make an effort to remember, and everyone else. Most made their way into that smaller, former category on negative grounds; those whose names Arion chose to recall on positive grounds were rare indeed. Bertold Cooper was the name that Arion had been given, but Breaker was his preferred, and so Breaker - Arion's penchant for linguistic formality permitting, of course - it would be.

"Here in the Old Rose, of course, my circumstances are somewhat different. Officially, I am here as a businessman. I own an establishment out towards King's Hill and the Waterfront. The Drink & Quill. Booze and books. Something the people of Old Rose Harbor desperately want, served alongside something that they desperately need. It is a little -" He grimaced ever so slightly. "- cleaner than this place, though not out of any desire to be exclusionary; the people in the Rose merely deserve better, and with any luck, it will encourage them to be better."

Arion stole a brief sip of his drink, letting the action serve as an intermission between his words. He studied Breaker's features, trying to infer what the man might think of his business as he described it: pretentious charitable galdor twaddle, or an effort that held some kind of genuine merit? There was an ulterior motive, of course, and Arion had not chosen this avenue into the Rose out of altruism; but even the most selfish of motives could do some good along the way, if one chose to allow it. It had been the same in the courtroom: Arion's indifference to the mere fact of guilt or innocence did not mean he wasn't responsible for removing bad people from the streets of Vienda; sometimes you killed a beast for the meat, but got to make use of the hide, too.

"Better people are useful people, in my experience. Useful to me, or to our extended family. The more useful people that pass through my doors, the more opportunity I have to connect them with an associate or a benefactor in need of such usefulness. A man such as yourself, of considerable use to a great many people, is exactly the sort of person it would behove me to have in attendance at the Quill, from time to time."

[Breaker Cooper]

13th Yaris, 2719

Breaker nodded as Arion spoke his face impassive, but dark eyes sharp, aware and a light with something like animal cunning, as a foxes might while watching a chicken coop.

He let out a low soft whistle and grinned slightly.

"Apex predators. Oh I like that Arion, very fair like it."

He nodded.

"Yes, you speak sense. We are all monsters, in our own ways, it is what the worlds we lives in make of us."

He rubbed his square chin, still smooth from the barber's razor that afternoon. Breaker continued to listen sipping his heavy red wine and smoking the rough cigar. As Arion spoke of The Drink and Quill his dark eyes lit up and he sat forward a little.

"An' that is here in Old Rose you say? Well bless me, I had heard talk of a new watering 'ole but none of it's, by the sound of it's very singular nature."

A warm smile spread over his face.

"While what you sayin' of folk bein' better to be of better use is true. I am also glad for their betterment for other reasons."

He stopped, pulled up a sleeve to show a tattoo of a rose with a banner reading 'home' under it.

"I love this city ya see, I know it can't seem much to a gentleman of the law such as you. 'owever, to me it's home, an' has a place in my heart ye chen? I've seen many places in my years, done bloody work in much of um. But 'ere for all its shit and blood is still home. To have it's folk made better, lifted up. Well that's a lofty goal, for any purpose."

When he finished sparking he looked almost sheepish, he wasn't used to speak so much and certainly not so openly. He took a swig from his tankard and dabbed his moustache with his handkerchief.

"Do excuse my ramblin' Arion, but aye I would very much like to visit your establishment. Fair like to indeed."

He looked around to make sure no one could over hear and asked in a low voice.

"Tell me, would you happen to have anything by Rosebeth Du Bran?"

Rosebeth Du Bran was known for writing steamy adventure romances, her most popular series starred dashing airship captain Napier Cloudhart. Breaker leaned back and made a dismissive gesture with his cigar, which wasn't quiet convincing.

"I ask purely out of curiosity, for a friend..."

Breaker trailed off took a sip of wine.