Ephemeral

October 27th, 1927 - Detroit, Michigan

Night had just fallen over downtown Detroit, Michigan. It was clear and cold outside, the time of night that proper ladies would be loath to leave their homes at, but Lucille Banks was a very busy woman. In this moment she did not have time for propriety or poise, not as she hurriedly marched towards the unlit staircase on the side of her family's diner, carrying tonight's prize: An ornate bottle filled with emerald green liquid, the cornerstone of her plans tonight.

Her styled red hair flounced as she descended the darkened staircase towards the building's basement. At the bottom of the stairs was a lone steel door with no external door handle. She checked her surroundings in the dim moonlight before knocking a rhythm onto the door - a rapid thu-thump, thu-thump with her knuckle, pausing for a second before ending with three successive knocks. Her password was answered with the metallic scraping of a heavy bolt-lock being undone. She was met by her doorman, who bowed politely as he ushered her inside.

"Welcome back to the Shattered Glass, my lady. I take it your transaction was successful?"

"Yes, and thank you, dear. Would you mind taking this to Warren while I survey the ballroom? He'll know what to do with it." She handed him the ornate bottle and he took it with two hands. An incredulous look came to his face as he turned the bottle over, inspecting it.

"Imported French absinthe? Are we being visited by royalty?" He questioned.

"It's his favorite," she said, matter-of-factly, and gestured towards the bar across the room. Several open crates were stacked near the bar. Her bartender, Warren, was counting bottles of liquor within the crates while engaged in conversation with a disheveled, burly young man.

The doorman's surprise turned to mild disgust as he eyed the thuggish young man. "I see. So he'll be staying tonight?"

"If things go to plan- yes, for the full night and in all his uncouth glory. Now shoo! I'm not paying you to gossip." She said, waving him off. He bowed once more before parting ways with her, reluctantly striding off towards the bar.

Lucille turned her attention to surveying the room. Tonight's band was already onstage, tuning their instruments in preparation for the night's long performance. Early-arriving quests were trickling in from the speakeasy's other secret entrance. Most had arrived in the characteristically down to earth style of bohemians, though a few stood out with their elaborate gowns and tuxedos. The growing crowd buzzed with anticipation as they waited for the official start of the party.

Her focus returned to the bar and lingered on the two men: Warren, tall, blond, and charming in his three-piece suit, and his conversational partner standing in stark contrast with a plain white shirt and scuffed trousers. The bottle of pilfered absinthe had been delivered and sat too close to the edge of the countertop as their conversation rolled on. Warren's eyes suddenly brightened at whatever topic they were discussing. In a flash of shakers and bottles - and a skillful rescuing of the bottle of absinthe before it tumbled off the counter - he poured a vibrant, orange-colored cocktail.

Warren tried to hand the other man the drink, only for it to be met with a firm denial. She smiled to herself; the game was now afoot - its combatants poised to strike and defend. The young thug briefly glanced at his wrist, adorned with a gold-plated wristwatch that glittered in the light. He shook his head and seemed to mutter an apology. Still, Warren insisted. He took the other man by the wrist and lovingly, yet forcefully pressed the drink into his hand.

The glass was promptly set down. Clear irritation was written on the young thug's face as he once again denied the drink. Warren met his annoyance with a tight-lipped smile before beckoning him close. Whatever he leaned in to hiss from behind the bar left the other man bewildered. He hardly had time to stutter out a reply before Warren set the glass on the bar top with practiced insistence, and stalked off to speak with staff in another part of the room. The other man was left to stand there awkwardly for a moment before he took the drink and a resigned seat at the bar.