Post by Nicholas West on May 30, 2011 14:53:35 GMT -5
It had been minutes after calling Ms. Addison Constance back, only to leave her a voice mail message that Nicholas had decided to take his due personal day(s) as allowed to properly sort out his arrangements. He had been living in the Alexis hotel, in a suite no less, which ultimately after a week had gotten old. Satisfied that he had a proper handle on things, he excused himself from duty. Surely if shit hit the fucking fan, they could always recall him from whatever he was doing.
What had Nick done with his day? He had finally pulled the trigger on a little side project of his, which was to say he was as of that day a quite pleased new property owner in the city. There was no place like home, and a Hell of a place it was. He had dealt with the lack of furniture by ordering what he wanted. For the price he had paid for the place one might have expected it to be pre-furnished. It was better the way it had been, it ensured he got precisely what he wanted without having to mess around moving shit out rather than in.
By 1800 he was dragging ass and decided to have himself a power nap. Not that the hardwood floor of his particular penthouse could be considered austere, he had certainly slept on/in worse places, it was simply his only immediate option. He lay down staring at the ceiling for a moment and let everything slowly fade to black, enjoying the silence. It was 2030 when he awoke, groggy; not quite good nights sleep but refreshed enough to have he a proper evening out. He laughed amusedly when he rolled off his side and sat up, naturally he had rolled onto his side while asleep. “ugh”… This could not happen again. He might have been trained to survive in a shithole or five, but he did not enjoy the lack of bed nor especially the fact that he had rolled onto his sidearm.
The Sig Sauer was not the most comfortable thing in the whole wide world to roll onto while sleeping, even holstered, on the floor he gathered as he got to his feet. Personal day or not, he still had a lot on his plate. He had placed his Iphone on the charge, and walked a short distance in what would become his bedroom to retrieve it. Missed call from Addison Constance? Naturally he checked his voice mail. It was looking like his night off was not going to be entirely “off” after all. Not that he minded, his life revolved around his work, for the most part it always had.
He set his phone back down and began stripping off his clothing. 2200, Sunset tavern, he would be there wearing a smile. It probably helped in his enthusiasm, getting on the move, that his contact sounded like a stone cold fox. Creds, badge, Sig in holster, and spare mag were set next to the Iphone with his wallet and keys. The shower was almost on the level of what could have been a modern art masterpiece, amalgamation of marble and glass. It was a shame too, because he really enjoyed his showers and in the time line he was working with… had not the time.
He was dried, dressed, and totally GQ by 2120. He had to love it, the place had its own “green” dry cleaning service on site for residents only. Not that he had ever given a flying rat fuck about going “green” one way or another, it was just one amenity among others he intended on taking full advantage of. Nick interpreted her stated choice of dress as fairly casual, so he had then considered it. He considered dressing to fit in, perhaps for all of a second, and then dismissed that consideration. If Nick was going out on the town, working or otherwise, it was as a rule in his own personal book to do it looking like a boss. There was a time and a place to “blend in” when required, which he could, in his immediate case? There lacked any such requirement.
His apparel, largely Dolce, consisted of a tailored two piece black suit. Black with superfine dark gray pin striping was the suit. The tailored French cuff, white shirt and grayish silver silk tie were of Brooks Brother’s origin. Black wingtips were actually bespoke like the rest of the wardrobe, J. Lobbs. Cufflinks, black onyx and platinum. His watch, which he had not taken off? Breitling Bentley GT Royal, ebony, was time checked as he collected his other belongings of which had to be on his person. He adjusted the knot of his tie as he walked out the door, locking it behind him.
The only real major purchase he had left to make was that of a personal use vehicle. Did he really need one? He was assigned the Suburban, he himself, alone for use in the execution of his duties. It was a tight ride, although even without the obvious federal plates it screamed one of two things... suburbanite family wagon... or Police. He would have to decide on that bit at a later date, tonight, just like every other night he would indeed be driving the Fed wagon.
Darkness had fallen by the time he reached Sunset Tavern at 2150. As a point, and habit, Nick was punctual. Ten minutes early on every occasion of he could help it. Parking was a non-issue, not that it would have mattered, and so he parked right on out front and locked it up. Nick was early, as he liked to be, and strolled right on in. It was the second time he had paid the little establishment a visit, and rather than going to the bar he found himself a sufficiently obscured booth with a view of the front door. He was just lying in wait, watching, and waiting, without being obvious about either.
What had Nick done with his day? He had finally pulled the trigger on a little side project of his, which was to say he was as of that day a quite pleased new property owner in the city. There was no place like home, and a Hell of a place it was. He had dealt with the lack of furniture by ordering what he wanted. For the price he had paid for the place one might have expected it to be pre-furnished. It was better the way it had been, it ensured he got precisely what he wanted without having to mess around moving shit out rather than in.
By 1800 he was dragging ass and decided to have himself a power nap. Not that the hardwood floor of his particular penthouse could be considered austere, he had certainly slept on/in worse places, it was simply his only immediate option. He lay down staring at the ceiling for a moment and let everything slowly fade to black, enjoying the silence. It was 2030 when he awoke, groggy; not quite good nights sleep but refreshed enough to have he a proper evening out. He laughed amusedly when he rolled off his side and sat up, naturally he had rolled onto his side while asleep. “ugh”… This could not happen again. He might have been trained to survive in a shithole or five, but he did not enjoy the lack of bed nor especially the fact that he had rolled onto his sidearm.
The Sig Sauer was not the most comfortable thing in the whole wide world to roll onto while sleeping, even holstered, on the floor he gathered as he got to his feet. Personal day or not, he still had a lot on his plate. He had placed his Iphone on the charge, and walked a short distance in what would become his bedroom to retrieve it. Missed call from Addison Constance? Naturally he checked his voice mail. It was looking like his night off was not going to be entirely “off” after all. Not that he minded, his life revolved around his work, for the most part it always had.
He set his phone back down and began stripping off his clothing. 2200, Sunset tavern, he would be there wearing a smile. It probably helped in his enthusiasm, getting on the move, that his contact sounded like a stone cold fox. Creds, badge, Sig in holster, and spare mag were set next to the Iphone with his wallet and keys. The shower was almost on the level of what could have been a modern art masterpiece, amalgamation of marble and glass. It was a shame too, because he really enjoyed his showers and in the time line he was working with… had not the time.
He was dried, dressed, and totally GQ by 2120. He had to love it, the place had its own “green” dry cleaning service on site for residents only. Not that he had ever given a flying rat fuck about going “green” one way or another, it was just one amenity among others he intended on taking full advantage of. Nick interpreted her stated choice of dress as fairly casual, so he had then considered it. He considered dressing to fit in, perhaps for all of a second, and then dismissed that consideration. If Nick was going out on the town, working or otherwise, it was as a rule in his own personal book to do it looking like a boss. There was a time and a place to “blend in” when required, which he could, in his immediate case? There lacked any such requirement.
His apparel, largely Dolce, consisted of a tailored two piece black suit. Black with superfine dark gray pin striping was the suit. The tailored French cuff, white shirt and grayish silver silk tie were of Brooks Brother’s origin. Black wingtips were actually bespoke like the rest of the wardrobe, J. Lobbs. Cufflinks, black onyx and platinum. His watch, which he had not taken off? Breitling Bentley GT Royal, ebony, was time checked as he collected his other belongings of which had to be on his person. He adjusted the knot of his tie as he walked out the door, locking it behind him.
The only real major purchase he had left to make was that of a personal use vehicle. Did he really need one? He was assigned the Suburban, he himself, alone for use in the execution of his duties. It was a tight ride, although even without the obvious federal plates it screamed one of two things... suburbanite family wagon... or Police. He would have to decide on that bit at a later date, tonight, just like every other night he would indeed be driving the Fed wagon.
Darkness had fallen by the time he reached Sunset Tavern at 2150. As a point, and habit, Nick was punctual. Ten minutes early on every occasion of he could help it. Parking was a non-issue, not that it would have mattered, and so he parked right on out front and locked it up. Nick was early, as he liked to be, and strolled right on in. It was the second time he had paid the little establishment a visit, and rather than going to the bar he found himself a sufficiently obscured booth with a view of the front door. He was just lying in wait, watching, and waiting, without being obvious about either.
