Rust checks into Club Ember, his head buzzing with questions and how to ask them.
One thing he knew was he couldn't go soft and mild lest he deface his court. The other was he felt strongly that Horace'. yes, no more nicknames.
That Horace could provide the Rust with valauble information. Information he figured Alice had neglected.
So far her reign had been lackluster. She was just there. Rust liked Alice. Maybe she had just been caught off guard with her new role?
Rust wouldn't no sir. Rust would~ holy pig-on-a-spit that woman on that stage is half dressed.
Rust glances about in realization. Club Ember was a strip joint. Rust gazes about, becoming lost a feeling of familiarity.
Then pinches himself to clear his mind. Fuck Arcadia. Fuck Insanity. Fuck scantily clad Women. Rust had a mission. Always had. No time for sightseeing. Fuck you Horace Albert Liebowitz.
Rust tries to spot the other Sovereign. Standing rigid like a sword planted in the ground. His sparkling mantle popping like the Fourth of July.
Looking around, Rust notices a large number of patrons sitting near the main stage, looking up at the dancers, some of whom are slipping bills into g-strings. One hand goes up, dark grey flesh with lines of light flashing up the crisp white cuff of a sleeve poking from a midnight blue jacket.
It seems that Horace Albert Liebowitz is taking a lesson in 'economic reimbursement.'
Either that, or he needed to restock the spank bank.
The Summer King sets off to dodge through the crowd between him and HAL. Making it to HAL's side and keeping his eyes away from the beauty HAL is playing economics with.
Had the Human computer found a way to quantify Sex then? No. Rust had never considered HAL's love life. He really did not want to start. "Horace?" Rust decides to keep his talons to himself, merely drawing HAL's attention with loud speech.
The Autumn King looks round at his name, red eyes blinking once. Running the man's features through his memory, HAL swiftly reaches for the name.
"Hello Rust Mane. I would recommend the vodka and Red Bull," he says, raising his glass to his mouth. "Exceedingly satisfying/quenching. One could say a paradox in a glass, Alcohol and energy."
"You know what. I think I'd like some irony in a glass." Rust flags a waitress and puts in the request.
"Horace, I need to what all we lost when Krunk.. and Harry..." Rust allows those statements to be filled in with HALs own knowledge. "Surely there is more to ruling then a new hat and a free all you can eat buffet?"
"Sure thing honey," the waitress replied, moving away to get Rust's drink. HAL simply watched him, impassively and said nothing until the waitress returned with his drink.
"Here you go," she said, placing it down. HAL paid for it before adding, "Destiny, we need a private room." The waitress raised an eyebrow to the Autumn King but he continued without breaking stride.
"For business, no dancing."
She thought for a moment, never too sure of Mr. Liebowitz. True, he paid well and never touched but not a single girl ever considered him anything other than creepy.
"Sure, this way." Destiny sauntered away towards a curtain near the back of the club. HAL stood and waited for the Summer King to follow also.
Follow he does. Rust looks between Destiny and HAL some what uncertainly. Once inside the private room he allows Horace to start the conversation. Mixing Red Bull with alcohol carefully.
A couple of comfortable, and sturdy, looking chairs rest with a small table in between, with enough room for someone to dance in front of each chair. HAL moves to sit on one while Destiny closes the door, sliding the sign on it to occupied.
Having another sip of his drink, HAL turns to Rust.
"You should be congratulated, Rust Mane," he begins. "The position of Summer King is not an easy/desired one to hold. You have a lot to live up to." Its obvious he is talking about Harry, and not Sam.
"I can't fill those shoes. Only honor them with my own. I feel more like I was pushed into this then anything else. Besides, that bastard will strangle me from the grave if I screw up." Rust takes a seat and remains silent for a few moments.
"People don't feel safe Horace. Tensions are build and people are scared." Rust aches a brow at the King of Fear. "And not the Fear that motivates. How else can we explain recent events?"
HAL smirked. At least, it appeared like a smirk. The light lines around his mouth creased ever-so-slightly.
He knew just how easily strangulation from beyond the grave could be organised. All it took was the right words in the wrong ears.
"Rust Mane, people are always scared/afraid," HAL replied, "and the only fear is the fear that motivates. As for recent events, it happens every now and again, usually one-point-seven times per season. Misunderstandings occur between certain individuals of certain Mantles." He leans forward closer to the Summer King. "If they did not, then I would truly be worried/concerned."
Draft this Post
