DO WHATEVER [IC]

          Casimir heard the rumors. Not that they were particularly intriguing to him -- a man of the night himself, he oft roamed the streets of his home city searching for clubs to sneak into, if he could not convince them to let him in by advantage of his family name. Minwoo, however... was stuck working at a coffee shop all night! Did anyone even go to cafes at this hour? Was it even safe to be wandering around, looking for a cuppa-joe?

         Perhaps Casimir was feeling cocky. At five-foot-eleven, the barista almost towered over him, rugged and strewn with muscle lines all across his body. If there was any trouble, surely he would be a great help if Casimir's trusty shiv couldn't do the work. He really did look like a knight in shining armor.

         Sitting with his back against the chair, his boots propped up on the table, Casimir more so studied his latte and the cute little bear drawn into the cream rather than drinking it. What a waste. It was going to get cold. But, then...

         "No one here but us." he said to Minwoo, "What would just a sip hurt, huh?"

         Casimir reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a flask, half-full of hard liquor. Of course he was determined to turn this lovely establishment into a shit-fuck-ass bar. He poured a splash of rum into his mug, and then looked at Minwoo with a cat-like smile and shook the flask. "I'd say it's ever better with the iced stuff." he continued on, "At this hour, I doubt a higher-up would just waltz in -- and just a drop won't hurt, will it? Splash your face with some cold water. 'Course, I've got a couple pick-me-ups in here, too. Aren't us artsy types supposed to be loose?"

Viktor tucked his used pair of nylon gloves into his travel bag as he exited the alleyway. Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose he took a deep breath to enjoy his surroundings. It was a busy street tonight, with lights of advertisements and street vendors lighting both sides of the place. It was times like this that he could enjoy moments of freedom from his mother’s control that he felt a small amount of adrenaline hit his veins. 

As he glanced around the street, people watching, as he usually did, he noticed an interesting character through the glass of a small, yet busy, bar. 

This was Casimir Terranova, he recalled the name, though he wasn’t quite certain where from. Viktor had recognized the face, of course, he never once had forgotten one. This one was currently enjoying a pink drink, his elbows resting on the bar table, a slight smile on his lips as he talked to the bartender idly. 

Viktor wondered if he was someone on the good list... or the bad list.

He stalked closer and peered at the man carefully through the glass, hiding underneath the neon sign that covered his pale face with red light. 

He was curious about this stranger, who had a name. 

He opened his travel bag once more, and searched it quickly for his black wallet, pushing past a tray of blue glass vials that lay within.

Flipping the wallet open Viktor withdrew his fake ID. It had a different name and age attached, making him in his 20s instead of being a teenager, which he was. 

He had decided that if this man was on the good list he should know Viktor’s name, and notice the fake ID right away – because they would have some good connection of which Casimir would know Viktor. 

If not, then Casimir would be on the bad list. 

As such, he readied a blue vial, loosened the cap, and hid it in the sleeve of his jacket before entering the bar. 

Victor brushed back his white hair with his hand before taking a seat beside Casimir with straight shoulders and a slight smile to match the other man’s. 

Dropping his ID onto the counter he ordered a drink from the bartender, “a Bloody Mary for me. On the rocks,” he said with a wider smile.