❖ BROKERS & BARMEN ❖ (Arsene/Ahote/Job)

Ever since Ahote and the mysterious man had spoken about his employment for their "shadow organization," life hadn't much changed. His routines were mostly the same and he hadn't been in much contact with the mysterious man or his associates since. Jobs came but not usually from this organization he had joined, leaving him almost exactly where he was before their meeting. This was the case until tonight where he was supposed to be meeting with a man from this same organization to discuss a job they'd be going on soon after.

Ahote knew very little about this job and even less, perhaps nothing, about the man he was taking it with. If anything had changed since the meeting with the mysterious man, it had probably been the increase of mystery and uncertainty shrouding his lifestyle and livelihood. But this wasn't unusual or anything he wasn't expecting. He thought to himself before and during his walk to the location that this was all just the beginning of a new career—that things might've been slow in the beginning and everything would fall into place soon enough. Mise en place as people from Minstrel might put it, even if it were referring to culinary arts and not unsavory types of work.

The place he was supposed to meet the man or woman—he wasn't entirely sure since everyone had an alias—at none other than Boomslang, a club that was simply booming and thundering every weekend and weeknight that it was open, and it just so happened that Ahote here had owned it. He couldn't have known whether or not this person he was meeting knew this and chose it because they knew this, or if it were by coincidence alone. Regardless, he had only been up the street from his bar, never straying too far from it due to the particulars contained in his basement, and because no business owner would leave everything to their bartender in hopes everything will work out. So it only took around three minutes to return back to Boomslang, stepping into the changing lights and roaring music. He never enjoyed the noise but got used to it softening his eardrums.

Ahote was wearing his usual attire—a black trench coat covering his traditionally colored black-and-white suit with a white dress shirt underneath it all. It appeared very professional and businesslike, but strangely eerie and daunting. His arms and neck were covered in bandages as the result of his decaying body, which was quite a pain to maintain. He took the liberty of using his bar's basement as a space to maintain his form and to keep his other bodies well kept. It was quite a simple procedure and perhaps the most difficult part of the routine to cleanly murdering the men he finds and captures in order to use their bodies for this reason. Otherwise, he maintains the appearance and form simply by doing what most people would do if they were alive—eat, sleep, hydrate, etc.

He had used his basement for other things, too. Lately he had been dabbling in the dark arts of necromancy, and as a result, his bodies decayed at even greater rates and even began to change their physical appearance. His hair would turn white, get longer, and eyes turn from a soft amber to a stunning golden color. This seemed to happen sporadically and more when his magic was active. It was less of an inconvenience and more of a confusing change in appearance for people he knew him as the brown-haired, amber-eyed Ahote. But today, this man or woman he'd meet would know him like this and maybe something else the next time. Although his appearance was emphasized by the activity or inactivity of his necromancy, he ended up learning to control this regardless of that fact and ended up liking how his other appearance felt. It felt fragile and lighter, and he enjoyed it.

When he poked his head in, he was greeted by his only bartender, Matteo, who was standing behind the bar's counter polishing some glasses with a white rag. Matteo wasn't human and served Ahote as an undead lich he spoke in few words but was otherwise incredibly intelligent. He had similar servants like this all around Boomslang, but altogether he had under ten of them here and none of them ever left. Ahote looked for his peer but was unsure of who they were, what they looked like, and where'd they be. He had screwed his face together, wondering whether he was the first to arrive or if the person had been hidden among the crowd.