Blood Wine

CHAPTER 1

( #Makaraig )

A black limousine stops in front of a hotel. The door opens and out steps a massive man dressed in a three piece suit. Anyone who saw him there stayed as far away as they possibly could, thinking he was the bodyguard of some diplomat or celebrity. But when he nodded to the driver inside and started walking casually to the hotel's private restaurant, you realize that HE was the VIP.

The inside of the restaurant was crowded even on a Tuesday. The evening lighting was always perfect to highlight the movement of the rich and powerful. Crystal glasses, silverware, cloth so white you could swear it was supremacist.

All this was beautiful to the giant man who spoke in a soft, languid voice. "Good evening, Gemma. Have you received my reservation request?"

The receptionist blushes and stutters a little bit, talking mostly to the huge chest, arms, and hands. She giggles at his patient smile and verbally points him to a secluded table, obscured by tall indoor plants and a partition. It was in a dark corner, the only lighting being the candles on the table.

He sits on the chair facing the rest of the room, leaving the more discrete chair for his client.

A waiter approaches, handing him their table d'hote. He smiles and begins to read them off silently. For a man who only learned the alphabet when he was already fifteen, he could easily browse through words without moving his lips now. Victor was a man of rather simple pleasures.

He checked his watch and waited for the seconds hand to tick right on 8pm. He looks to the door across the room and sees him. There was no mistaking it. Tall, though a head shorter than his 6"2, proud. Strident. He had many guards trailing behind him and some already positioned in the room before he came in, though none were even half his girth.

As he came closer, his face became clearer. The giant held his breath.

"Oh, yes." 

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(#Ma'Heron )

Why on earth did I even consider doing this in first place?... This is ridiculous... I visited this country for business, not for personal reasons... Alright, let's just get this done and over with...

The man whose mind ran riot would not allow himself to outwardly reflect even just a hint of the turmoil he was feeling inside. Outside, he was cool, calm, collected. His breeding, extensive studies in social graces and disciplined self-control has made him unreadable when he needs to be so. He knew that as he walked through the crowded restaurant, people will only see a well-bred, well-dressed and well-mannered man, despite him being an inward wreck.

He allows one of his "MIB" to remove his coat, and motions them all to find places to situate themselves, despite knowing they've already discussed floor plans, exits, entrances and positioning two nights before they've arrived. He just needed to find some semblance of comfort by giving them orders. The manager personally escorts him to his table, gushing unnecessary compliments at him despite receiving only a cold, expressionless stare in exchange. Almost all eyes followed him as he strode confidently through the tables.

As he crossed the middle of the restaurant, looking splendid in his tailor-made Kiton tuxedo, dark longish hair slick and brushed back, he focuses his attention on a man at the far end of the restaurant. The man was huge, rivaling in size even some of his larger bodyguards at home. His face, ironically, had a gentleness and softness that can be mistaken as womanly. If not for the fiery look in the man's eyes, a thin beard and his large build, you would think...

Stop it Ma'Heron. There you go again judging other people based on first impressions. Be ashamed of yourself and be good to the man who took the time to meet with you, as your contact said, at the last minute.