#* ₖᵢᵣₐₙ ﾉ script ‸

[sikarius]

the   new   york   fine   art   gallery   ⭑   *   13:00 hours ⸺ @dogbleed, for amara.

a   small   personal   win:   he   wasn't   involved.   kiran   considered   this   gleefully   as   he   perused   the   rows   of   forgeries   that   crowded   the   displays.   it   had   been   amusing,   then   boring,   then   amusing   again   with   the   arrival   of   a   half   -   dozen   of   new   york's   finest   dressed   in   their   finest.   

undercovers   are   nearly   imperceptible   to   the   uninitiated.   but there   are   two   ways   to   spot   them.   if   you   run   with   bad   folks   long   enough,   you   can   see   how   they   act.   a   cop   is   too   stiff,   too   well - trained.   the   beating   heart   of   their   stained   morality   forced   them   to   walk   with   a   sort   of   undeserved   pride. kiran   was   never   good   at   this   method,   his   own   posture   sculpted   with   marble   and   the   sharp   crack   of   his   tutor's   ruler.

the   other   method   he   excelled   in.   fed's   didn't   make   enough.   on   the   surface,   sure,   an   out   of   season   prada   didn't   stick   out.   but   most   stupidly   wore   their   standard   issue   black   shoes,   scuffed   at   the   heels.   still,   kiran   didn't   notice   this   one   until   she   got   close.

"big   win   for   you   boys   tonight?"   he   drawled,   tilting   his   head   at   the   painting   they   both   stood   in   front   of.   "this   arcimbaldo   might   has   well   have   been   drawn   in   crayola,   i   wonder   how   they   convinced   anyone   to   sell."   with   his   hands   clasped   behind   his   back,   he   tried   to   hold   back   his   excitement.   

"oh,   where   are   my   manners?   MY   NAME   IS   KIRAN.   i   didn't   purchase   anything,   so   no   need   to   worry   about   me!"   the   lilt   of   his   voice   was   edged,   and   he   pointedly   eyed   a   man   standing   on   the   opposite   side,   blissfully   unaware   that   the   suits   are   about   to   tell   him   he   just   spent   seven   figures   on   a   fake.

[sikarius]

the   west executive boardroom   of   stoneage   industries   ⭑   *   12:00 hours ⸺ @gildcdglory, for haneul.

echoes   of   shouts   and   groans   bounced   from   wall   to   wall,   contrasted   with   the   current   silence   of   the   room.   kiran   grimaced   at   the   idea   that   he   was   actually   quite   excited   to   come   today.   a   meeting   of   only   the   top   of   the   burning   gods   food   chain   happened   often,   yes,   but   they'd   never   been   set   at   stoneage   industries.   

the   subject   of   the   meeting   caused   the   uproar.   as   a   group   they   were   careful,   you   had   to   be   in   white   collar   crime.   and   admittedly,   kiran   hadn't   reached   that   expectation.   he   liked   throwing   his   money   at   things,   sometimes   not   even   bothering   to   check   if   the   money   was   clean.   

they   had   taken   a   hard   stance.   kiran   was   to   stop   messing   around.   under   threat   of   death   was   implied.   so   now,   kiran   sat   silently,   knee   bouncing   up   and   down.   his   eyes   flicked   up   to   the   only   other   person   still   sitting   there.   haneul   seon.   finance.   it   was   only   so   fitting   that   he'd   be   apart   of   the   crusade   to   stop   kiran's   patronage   of   the   arts.

"i   suppose   you're   enjoying   this."   he   said   bitterly.   "and   here   i   thought   we   were   meant   to   support   the   culture   of   the   city   we   live   in."

[sikarius]

rose   mitchell's   desk,   stoneage   industries   ⭑   *   10:00 hours ⸺ @haereticus, for rose.

his   finger's   hurt   from   typing   his   own   emails.   it's   not   like   he's   so   spoiled   as   he   demands   to   not   do   them,   but   he's   always   had   an   assistant   who   wanted   to.   you   get   used   to   that   kind   of   treatment,   and   it   aches   when   it's   gone.   

typing   still,   he   tilted   his   head   back,   checking   both   ways   for   the   owner   for   the   computer.   dark   eyes   marked   the   name   on   the   desk:   rose   mitchell,   personal   assistant.   he'd   only   met   her   once   or   twice.   heard   her   name   even   less.   still,   he   had   a   few   pullable   strings   in   stoneage,   and   even   more   in   burning   gods.   as   the   desk's   owner   approached,   he   visably   relaxed,   propping   his   boots   on   the   surface   in   front   of   him   and   leaning   back   in   the   chair.   

"ah,   ms.   mitchell!   finally,   i   thought   you'd   never   arrive."   his   voice   full   of   a   social   threat,   that   he   would   be   operating   on   the   idea   that   he   being   here   wasn't   at   all   strange.   "

his   assistant   would   scold   him   for   his   dramatics,   but   well,   they   were   no   longer   with   us.   family   vacation   in   miami   sounded   fake   anyways.   someone   must   have   killed   them,   and   kiran   had   been   ignoring   their   text   messages   in   remembrance   of   the   dead.

"well,   considering   you're   so   late,   we   have   lots   of   catch-up   to   do."   he   clapped   his   hands   together,   standing   from   her   seat.   "you'll   come   with   me,   of   course.   and   don't   worry   about   your   work   attendance,   i   requisitioned   you   from   your   superior."