[the cave is a convenient hop, skip, and a jump from work when he needs a last minute spot that's a happy marriage between just above board and seedy with good liquor to entice loose lips and gather the intel he needs for senator smith's meteoric, eventual rise to president. hawk's no stranger to getting his hands dirty over the years to keep smith's clean, which is why he even started coming here in the first place. or well, he supposes that's not entirely true. he started coming here because it was the perfect mix of toned boys and plausible deniability among the women, civilized entertainers who knew the merits of a well-placed wink and shimmy into someone's lap for a good time.
never too good, though. no happy endings, as far as he can tell. and that suits him just fine, seeing as hawk's never had to pay to go hunting, and he sure as shit isn't going to start now in this political climate.
so the text he gets has him frowning mildly, knowing he's never left any real calling card nor is he likely to pencil in any standing appointments. it's more of an as-is basis, spur of the moment. but he supposes inflation has hit everyone hard and it's not that outrageous to expect marcus might have put in a good word now that he's on the up and up as a traitor to politicians everywhere (affectionately, of course - like hawk doesn't give him a quarter of the tips outing scumbags and ruining unsavory policies when he has the chance).
it goes unanswered while he's in a meeting with smith and smarmy dave lonnigan who has been to the cave on more than one occasion and been asked to leave for sticky fingers and lingering hands. scott mcleod is nowhere to be seen, typical. only when he's out in the courtyard with a cigarette dangling from his mouth a few hours later does he respond, curious about the angle.]
I hate to leave a good boy hanging, but I'm a busy man. The company I keep is awfully hard to nail down.
But I like a good, stiff whiskey and a warmed lap every now and then.
no subject
never too good, though. no happy endings, as far as he can tell. and that suits him just fine, seeing as hawk's never had to pay to go hunting, and he sure as shit isn't going to start now in this political climate.
so the text he gets has him frowning mildly, knowing he's never left any real calling card nor is he likely to pencil in any standing appointments. it's more of an as-is basis, spur of the moment. but he supposes inflation has hit everyone hard and it's not that outrageous to expect marcus might have put in a good word now that he's on the up and up as a traitor to politicians everywhere (affectionately, of course - like hawk doesn't give him a quarter of the tips outing scumbags and ruining unsavory policies when he has the chance).
it goes unanswered while he's in a meeting with smith and smarmy dave lonnigan who has been to the cave on more than one occasion and been asked to leave for sticky fingers and lingering hands. scott mcleod is nowhere to be seen, typical. only when he's out in the courtyard with a cigarette dangling from his mouth a few hours later does he respond, curious about the angle.]
I hate to leave a good boy hanging, but I'm a busy man. The company I keep is awfully hard to nail down.
But I like a good, stiff whiskey and a warmed lap every now and then.
Who told you, by the way?