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elementof_riskSark settled back into one of the leather chairs in the Gallery Bar. It was more his sort of club than most in L.A., with a sort of European flair in the leather and the crystal chandeliers with the soft gold paper on the walls. It had an air of old Hollywood about it, elegant, refined, a sparkling veneer over something more darkly decadent underneath. It echoed with something inside him.
Irina's plan for making a partner of Sloane was going according to schedule, as was Sloane's working whatever angle he was after in the Alliance. Sark could understand wanting to be free, and academically even, risking that much for someone you loved, though he didn't think it was something he'd catch himself doing anytime soon. The mingling of the power plays was by far the most exciting thing he'd seen so far, with a deeper intrigue than jobs Irina had given him before, now that he had proven himself. Handling Irina's assets was an impressive responsibility, and he was taking it all very seriously.
Of course, if Irina knew he'd invited Sydney for a drink, she'd probably have his head, but he was intrigued after watching her in action, after hearing about her for over half his life from her mother. He wasn't sure she'd even come, actually deign to meet him, or if she'd confide what was bothering her if she did. He certainly wouldn't. But it was too good of an opportunity to miss, so he ordered a glass of wine, and watched the other patrons mingling, waiting to see if she would come.
Irina's plan for making a partner of Sloane was going according to schedule, as was Sloane's working whatever angle he was after in the Alliance. Sark could understand wanting to be free, and academically even, risking that much for someone you loved, though he didn't think it was something he'd catch himself doing anytime soon. The mingling of the power plays was by far the most exciting thing he'd seen so far, with a deeper intrigue than jobs Irina had given him before, now that he had proven himself. Handling Irina's assets was an impressive responsibility, and he was taking it all very seriously.
Of course, if Irina knew he'd invited Sydney for a drink, she'd probably have his head, but he was intrigued after watching her in action, after hearing about her for over half his life from her mother. He wasn't sure she'd even come, actually deign to meet him, or if she'd confide what was bothering her if she did. He certainly wouldn't. But it was too good of an opportunity to miss, so he ordered a glass of wine, and watched the other patrons mingling, waiting to see if she would come.
