#friday Fortune banker

[mycryptosuite]

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[kairologia]

Planets in Hellenistic Astrology — Part 2 : the personal & social planets.

Mercury ☿

Mercury represents the exchange and transfer of all things, which includes :

— communication and transferring one’s thoughts to others through speaking or writing.

— mental processes

— money & trade

— traveling

— intelligence

— sleight of hand

— psychopomp

— thievery

↳ trivia :

— Domicile: Gemini, Virgo

— Exaltation: Virgo

— Detriment: Sagittarius, Pisces

— Fall: Pisces

— Mercury is never more than one sign away from the sun (previous and next). For example, an Aries sun person can only have Mercury in Aries, Pisces or Taurus.

— Quality: Cold and Dry (Melancholic).

— Neutral disposition, i.e. neither feminine nor masculine.

— Slightly Diurnal.

— Colors: patterns, multicolour, mixed colors, shades of gray.

— Places: Markets, shops, money-related places, schools.

— Day of the Week: Wednesday.

— Professions: messengers, agents, dealers, astrologers, clerks, accountants, scribes, media, physicians, researchers, scientists, lawyers, orators, musicians, bankers.

— Body Parts: Tongue, brain, arms, hands, fingers, auditory system, shoulders.

— Animals: small or clever animals, animals capable of “speech” (such as parrots).

— Minerals & Stones: Copper, brass, quicksilver.

Venus ♀

Venus represents relationships and social connections of all kinds, not just romantic. She also lords over the arts, beauty, harmony, peace, pleasure, diplomacy, fashion, hygiene & desire.

↳ trivia :

— Domicile: Taurus, Libra

— Exaltation: Pisces

— Detriment: Aries, Scorpio

— Fall: Virgo

— How her nature was perceived varied based on whether she appeared as Morning Star Venus (Phosphorus) or as the Evening Star (Hesperus).

— Quality : Cold and Moist (phlegmatic).

— Nocturnal.

— Feminine.

— Places: places that gives pleasure and entertainment, places depicting arts, fashion halls, gardens.

— Day of the Week: Friday.

— Body Parts: Kidney, smell, neck, hips, genitals.

— Colors: White, Green, Pink, Red.

— Professions: Musicians, artists, players, jewellers, actors, designers, perfumers, inventors, diplomats, cosmetologists.

— Minerals & stones: Copper & Emerald

— Animals: doves, soft & cuddly animals, swans

Mars ♂

Mars is a malefic, and thus represents things that are not pleasant, but usually necessary such as cutting, burning, (literal and metaphorical) severing. It also encompasses anger, aggression, the assertion of will, fire, danger, combat, war, violence, & power.

↳ trivia :

— Domicile: Aries, Scorpio

— Exaltation: Capricorn

— Detriment: Taurus, Libra

— Fall: Cancer

— Quality : Dry and Hot (choleric).

— Nocturnal.

— Masculine.

— Places: smithies, furnaces, slaughterhouses, sources of fire/burning, places of combat, hospitals, places related to the military.

— Colors: Red, vermillion, fiery colors.

— Parts: Head, gallbladder, genitals.

— Professions: professions that involve fire, butchers, conquerors, military professions, blacksmiths, surgeons, physicians, medical workers, chemists, pharmacists & herbalists.

— Day of the Week: Tuesday

— Minerals & stones: iron, sulfur, heliotrope

— Animals: dogs, foxes, canines, panther, tigers, animals that bite or sting

Jupiter ♃

Among its general significations we can list: dignity, abundance, knowledge, justice, high mindedness, expansion, generosity, prosperity, good fortune, and miracles. Jupiter also governs religion & long distance travel (as opposed to Moon & Mercury which rule over short-distance travel).

↳ trivia :

— Domicile: Sagittarius, Pisces

— Exaltation: Cancer

— Detriment: Gemini, Virgo

— Fall: Capricorn

— Quality : Warm and Moist (sanguine).

— Diurnal.

— Masculine.

— Colors: Blue, blue-greens, purple, light gray.

— Profession: Judges, professions relating to government, profession relating to religion (i.e. priests), lawyers, professors, teachers, gurus.

— Places: courts, colleges & universities, observatories, religious sites & places of prayer, altars, places that gathers large group of people.

— Day of the Week: Thursday.

— Minerals & Stones: sapphire, citrine, amethyst.

— Body Parts: Thighs, feet, liver, blood, semen.

— Animals: stag, ox, bees, eagle, dolphin, whale, sheep, deer.

Saturn ♄

Saturn embodies a sense of restriction, solitude, decay, and the passage of time. It brings with it a mix of constructive (or not) challenges and somber reflections. It's a planet that evokes emotions of sorrow, misery, and grief, and is thus often associated with death. Symbolically linked to the land and the elderly, it represents things that are enduring and long-lasting. It's also associated with locks, suggesting a sense of confinement or constraint.

↳ trivia :

— Domicile: Capricorn, Aquarius

— Exaltation: Libra

— Detriment: Cancer, Leo

— Fall: Aries

— Quality: Cold and Dry (melancholic).

— Diurnal.

— Colors: dark colors, shades of brown, nudes.

— Profession: farmers, laborers, miners, professions of construction, professions related to the dead.

— Places: deserts, prisons, ruins, graveyards, fields, abandoned places, mines, anything underground,

— Day of the Week: Saturday

— Body Parts: Bones, teeth, skin, joints

— Animals: Cats, scavengers, adders, asps, serpents, and cockatrices

— Minerals & stones: metal, lead, lapis lazuli.

PART 1 : sun/moon/rising.

[antisocialmastermind]

Chapter 10

Chap 1 Chap 2 Chap 3 Chap 4 Chap 5 Chap 6 Chap 7 Chap 8 Chap 9 on Ao3

*WARNING: explicit chapter*

Day 10: HEDIANL = inhaled

Kurt’s already inhaled three cups of coffee by the time Elliott emerges blearily from his bedroom Saturday morning. He feels jittery and electric, like even his skin is newly alive. It’s not the caffeine. It’s also, apparently, not subtle.

“Good night?” Elliott asks with a smirk as he shambles toward the coffee pot.

Kurt tries to look nonchalant. He’s pretty sure he fails miserably. “It was,” he says.

“Bankers, am I right?” Elliott asks smugly. 

“Lawyer,” Kurt sings back. He can’t keep a straight face, though.

The two of them grin at each other like lunatics across the apartment. Elliott leans back into the sofa with a contented sigh and crosses his ankles on the coffee table. “Well, would ya look at us,” he hums.

Kurt doesn't even yell at him to get his damn boots off the table. 

****

Saturdays are his worst day of the week. He works all day at the gallery and then rushes home to change before working all night at the restaurant. All he really wants to do on this particular Saturday is sit around sighing dreamily, so it makes sense that the gallery is packed all morning, and he doesn’t have time to think.

Thankfully, there’s a lull after lunch. He’s just dropped into the high desk chair when he hears the gallery door open and groans quietly. But it’s not a patron. It’s the same delivery woman. This time carrying a massive bouquet that must have cost a small fortune.

Like before, there are burgundy roses. But the orange blooms this time are lilies, and there are brilliant hot pink dahlias and eerie white passionflowers, too. The overall effect is of something wild and otherworldly and Kurt feels as though he’s seeing himself described in the language of flowers: passionate, dreamy, hot, classic, romantic, unusual. He loves it. 

The delivery woman places the card in his hand with a little nod. Before she turns for the door she gazes at Kurt with admiration painted over her face. “Gotta hand it to ya,” she says. “You’re good.” Kurt waits until she’s gone to open the envelope.

The card says simply, When can I see you? –B. 

Kurt feels like a middle schooler as he clutches it to his chest with a sigh.

****

Unfortunately, weeknights aren’t good for Blaine right now, and Kurt makes most of his money on his weekend shifts, so it takes Chandler volunteering to permanently cover Friday nights at the gallery for the second date to happen. Kurt feels a little guilty, but Chandler just brushes the whole thing off since, ‘apparently I’m the only one around here who has nothing to do on Friday nights.’ Kurt pulls a sad face for Chandler’s benefit and says he owes him one. And then he texts Blaine just one word. Friday?

Kurt doesn’t even know where he’s headed when Paul arrives to pick him up. Blaine had sent him a time and asked for an address, and now he’s once again being whisked through the New York Streets in the black Mercedes. It takes a few minutes before he realizes that the car seems to be headed to the Upper East Side. He’s going to Blaine’s apartment. 

Thankfully, it's a long enough drive that he has time to get his nerves under control before Paul pulls up alongside a luxurious apartment building and alights to release Kurt from the back of the car. “Just head in, sir,” the driver says politely. “Conrad will send you up.” At Kurt’s quizzical look, he offers, “The concierge, sir. You’re expected,” before stepping back around the car.

Kurt’s tasting his own heartbeat as he steps out of the elevator into the foyer of Blaine’s apartment. He feels a little like a fish out of water, gasping out his last breaths on the expensive oriental carpet. Then Blaine is stepping into the foyer and Kurt’s whole body tingles .

Blaine’s wearing a dark green, crocheted silk polo that clings to his torso in all the right places and a pair of dark wash jeans that fit him like a glove. He’s barefoot and holding a spatula in his hand and oh jesus Kurt thinks the man should just change his name to sex and be done with it.

“Smells delicious,” he manages to squeak as Blaine leans in to kiss his cheek.

“Salmon,” Blaine announces. “With roasted potatoes and fennel. Hello, you.”

“Hi,” Kurt's breath gushes out of him with the greeting. I’m okay, this is okay runs like a mantra through his head.

He’d thought that Blaine would live in one of those boring, monochromatic, ultramodern New York apartments. He doesn’t. His home is warm, with deep blue drapes and parquet floors and a 1920s aesthetic that Kurt adores. There’s contemporary art on the walls and a giant chrome vase full of white tulips on the coffee table. Early New Orleans-style jazz drifts from hidden speakers and the dining table is already set for two, Chardonnay chilling beside two waiting glasses.

He follows Blaine into the kitchen and offers to help with dinner. “But first,” he says, “pinch me.”

Blaine smiles at him as if Kurt’s some secret treasure he’s just discovered. “I’ll do you one better,” he replies, and then he’s kissing Kurt, gentle yet urgent, and Kurt feels it all the way down to his feet. 

They talk over dinner and too much wine, learning each other but impatient with the electricity zinging between them. Kurt, at 23, is working toward making a living with his art. Blaine, at 29, is settled into a good career that he enjoys. They both love Broadway and fashion and cooking and are passionate about their left-leaning politics. Kurt prefers white wine while Blaine likes red but they both think dark chocolate is the only chocolate worth eating. 

Kurt is fiery and Blaine is calm. But it’s Blaine who knocks over Kurt’s empty wine glass when he pulls him to his feet to dance to Billie Holiday’s Solitude standing right there next to the dining table. Neither of them notices.

And it’s Blaine who mumbles, “You,” against Kurt’s lips as if the word holds a dictionary full of meaning and drags him into the bedroom by both wrists. They don’t stop kissing the whole way.

****

Blaine is a sexy, sweet combination of considerate and passionate as a lover. Kurt loses track of how many times he hears “Can I…” and “May I…,” but the look in Blaine’s eyes and slight tremble of his fingers tells Kurt how much he wants.

When Kurt finally grunts “Jesus, Blaine, stop asking. I want you,” it’s a bursting dam of uncontrolled greed. Blaine clutches his face with both hands, one thumb in Kurt’s mouth alongside his tongue, and thrusts his hips against Kurt’s with a groan. 

He gropes clumsily into the bedside table with one hand, never fully letting go of Kurt’s body, and then there’s a pillow under his hips and Blaine’s lubed index finger is caressing his hole. The whole time his fingers are working, Blaine’s kissing and licking and biting at his nipples, his ribs, his stomach and Kurt’s already flailing with needing more, more, more.

By the time he’s three fingers deep, Blaine has Kurt’s straining cock in his mouth and he’s moaning like he’s the one being sucked off. Kurt’s babbling “oh, god, oh god, oh god” when Blaine slides his fingers across his prostate, and Kurt makes a deep, guttural noise he’s most certainly never made in his life before.

Then Blaine’s fumbling with the condom and pushing in, gentle but insistent, and Kurt feels a rush of emotion coiling deep in his belly. He raises his knees and clutches at Blaine’s neck and arches his back. Blaine’s biting his neck and his ear and repeating his name like some kind of obscene prayer as he fucks him and Kurt is just lost in frantic bliss and want. He can feel Blaine shaking over him and he never, never wants this to end. God.

And then Blaine’s stroking his cock fast and hard with his lubed hand and caressing his prostate with every stroke, and Kurt feels the coil of emotion rising up, up, up, into his chest as his balls tighten, and then he’s coming over Blaine’s fist again and again. Blaine follows him over the edge only a moment later, groaning out Kurt’s name. Then he lowers his forehead to Kurt’s shoulder and lies there holding him. And Kurt feels tears leaking down the sides of his face into the pillow.

****

They’re both half asleep. Blaine has cleaned them up with an impossibly soft cloth from somewhere and brought them each a glass of water. Kurt rolls to the edge of the bed, wondering if Paul is somewhere around at this hour or if he’s going to need to catch a train, when Blaine throws an arm around his waist and drags him back so that he’s flush against Blaine’s chest. “No,” he grunts. “Stay.” Another command.

Kurt does.

[anoptimisticadventurer]

42, 43, 49

42. favourite book(s)

Ooooooh-

• True Believer by Nicholas Sparks

• The Soulmate Equation by Christina Lauren

• Love & Other Words by Christina Lauren

• Meet Me at the Lake by Carley Fortune

and

• Part of Your World by Abby Jimenez

43. favourite song ever

sigh

It's really difficult to just pick just one because up until now I haven't listened to this song since last year or the last time someone asked me a similar question. And it's still my "favourite" song ever.

It helped me through my lonely years, my suicidal years, my self destructive years or those years where I could have said yes/fuck it to hook ups and drugs, etc.

Instead of acting on those things that were not indicative of my soul, I instead listened to this song (among others) and jogged at 3am-5am. Still something stupid to do but I think I chose the best option I felt I had at the time.

It's a song that helped through those quiet and sad days.

That being said, I NEED TO RECOMMEND Y'ALL SOME OF MY FAVOURITES!!

Hans Williams

NF

Noah Kahan

Bruno Mars

Henrik

Tom Walker

Sleeping At Last

Myles Smith

Kodaline

Bastille

Twenty One Pilots

Harry Styles

Birdtalker

Adele

If anyone needs new artists to listen to, I highly recommend these artists/bands

49. where i want to be right now

It's funny because I met with a banker today to discuss plans and get advice for mortgaging a house. The bank is willing to loan me $300k+ for a house and I asked if they could loan me to or on another state and they stated that yes they could. And I immediately wanted to take the loan for a house in WA. I've already been looking around the Olympic and South Puget Region. BUT, I calmed my hazy emotions down and took a deep breath. I need to do more research, find and secure a job where I plan to purchase a house, mortgage a house, and even check or do house openings meetups, flood zone check ups, agent or have someone to check on the house I want to see if the house is in order, etc. SIGH. I need to be responsible about this. But yeah, that was my thought when I got - well I'm sort of being disingenuous because this was actually my first thought:

I want to be in a home that's safe and warm with my "soulmate"/future partner, cooking food or grabbing from the takeout Chinese or pizza we ordered, it's Friday night, we have the weekend free so we're enjoying this night with comfort food as we enjoy our company and watch TV together. We cuddle and snuggle. We feel safe and lucky to have each other in our life. Maybe we have a kiddo or a few kiddos. Maybe a couple of pets as well. None of that bothers us. We're just happy to be together. We love each other and each day we love each other. We're dorky, weird, silly, and goofy, but we love each other. And that's enough.

Kind of a pathetic "where I want to be right now" response but yeah.

-

[twentythreemillionstories]

Friday 29th December 2023, Wuhan, 6.44pm.

#160,910 — A poor young man secretly marries the daughter of a wealthy banker. A spoilt and stubborn English woman comes to a small town with her husband. She inherited his fortune.

[bopinion]

2023 / 34 (Indecisive edition)

Aperçu of the Week:

"It is and always will be the most revolutionary act to say aloud what is."

(Rosa Luxemburg, influential representative of the European labor movement and anti-militarism at the beginning of the last century, who was murdered for her ideals).

That's what I actually wanted to write in this column. But then this got in the way:

"Whoever orders leadership from me, gets it."

(German Chancellor Olaf Scholz, who once again fails to control publicly aired disputes in his three-party coalition, at the beginning of his current term in government)

Bad News of the Week:

In the last legislative period, conservative Jens Spahn was part of the German government as health minister. And actually didn't cut a bad figure in the Corona pandemic. Although he is actually a trained banker. Now, as vice chairman of the largest opposition party, he ironically discovers in himself an astonishing amount of expertise in completely new subject areas. For example, he likes to pick on the social systems, saying that they provide "false incentives" - because for him, the unemployed are generally unwilling to work. But the crowning glory last week were his remarks on abolishing migration: He advocates an "asylum cap". In complete ignorance of international asylum law or the Geneva Refugee Conventions. Just for fishing on the right edge of the electorate. Shame on you!

That's what I actually wanted to write in this column. But then this got in the way:

In Bavaria, the CSU (Christian Social Union) is forming a coalition with the "Freie Wähler" (Free Voters). Their party leader Hubert Aiwanger is in this economy minister and deputy Prime Minister. Elections will be held again at the beginning of October. Already in the last months the solo election campaigner Aiwanger increasingly appears populist - with growing excursions into the right spectrum. On the weekend the bombshell bursted: As a youth he had written and distributed an inconceivable pamphlet, in which the Holocaust is used for cheap anti-Semitic jokes from the lowest level. Not only in the 80s and for a democratic politician an absolute taboo. He still denies the authorship (his brother was the author) but there are more and more indications (Hitler salute when entering the classroom) that suggest a fundamental attitude that can no longer be relativized with youthful carelessness. Shame on you!

Good News of the Week:

AfD voters would suffer most from AfD policies, study says. This is the conclusion of a study by the Institute for Economic Research, which compared the agenda of the right-wing populist AfD (Alternative für Deutschland / Alternative for Germany) with the actual living situation of its potentially most likely electorate - forecasts assume up to 20% approval! Whether extreme neoliberal economic policy, cuts in social policy or the blanket rejection of the European Union: the AfD's clientele would suffer the most in terms of money and social participation under the program of these lunatics. Very good - now only the word has to get around.

That's what I actually wanted to write in this column. But then this got in the way:

Spain is having its MeToo moment. Actually, the country should be happy that its women's soccer team has just won the world championship title in Australia. But that is overshadowed because leading federation official Luis Rubiales kissed lead player Jenni Hermoso on the mouth - without her consent and in public during the victory celebration. A clear case of assault. Fortunately, Spain is not (anymore) the Eldorado of machismo, but the country that created the "Solo sí es sí" law ("Only a yes is a yes"). Public opinion is clear: this man is not sustainable. Very good - now only his own mother needs to understand this, who has gone on hunger strike in a church in defense of her son (no joke!).

Personal happy moment of the week:

Friday evening we went to the "Festival of 1000 Lights" in Bayrischzell, the southernmost village of our district just before the Austrian border. And although it rained from time to time, we spent a nice evening with beer and music with two friends.

That's what I actually wanted to write in this column. But then this got in the way:

My adult daughter and I have established a tradition of civil disobedience. Before every election, we tear down the AfD posters in our village. Because, in our opinion, it's part of political hygiene in a democracy not to give such extremists a place. I would be downright proud of a fine for this misdemeanor.

I couldn't care less...

Wrong world: of all countries, Japan, the country with the worst history of nuclear consequences, decides to dump contaminated cooling water into the sea - more than 1.3 million tons of water from the ruins of the Fukushima nuclear power plant, which was damaged in 2011. And rightful China, by far the biggest polluter of this planet, is afraid of resulting environmental damage. Have you all understood nothing?

That's what I actually wanted to write in this column. But then this got in the way:

"Money shoots goals" is a popular saying in soccer. This apparently also applies to Harry Kane, who scored three goals in his first two games for FC Bayern. The most expensive player in the history of the Bundesliga may well be doing his job, and after the many unsuccessful years at Tottenham Hotspur, he should not be begrudged titles, almost pre-programmed for the traditionally strongest German team. But the star may not fit in at all with the "Mia san mia" (Bavarian for "We are us") attitude of the solid Munich club. Unless you believe the assessment of the competition and call it "FC Hollywood".

As I write this...

I breathe a sigh of relief. The meteorologists tell us that this summer was or is already the 27th time in a row too warm. But since Friday night, fortunately, it has been raining extensively and it has cooled down noticeably. You can sleep better again and you don't need noisy fans at night anymore.

That's what I actually wanted to write in this column. But then this got in the way:

I shudder. The meteorologists tell us that this summer was or is already the 27th time in a row too warm. Absurd that it then nevertheless leads to severe storms that bring, for example, tons of hailstones - if one can still speak of hailstones at the size of tennis balls. Not only nature suffers, but also culture. Among other things, a historic basilica of the Benediktbeuern monastery was effectively destroyed. Parallels to the consequences of war suggest themselves if you look at the pictures.

Post Scriptum

The BRICS countries - already representing about 40% of the world's population - want to grow. And to this end, they have extended an invitation to Argentina, Egypt, Ethiopia, Iran, Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates. BRICS plus is supposed to represent the global South and deliberately positions itself as a counterweight to "Western powers." If you look at the weight distribution like this, you almost want to say it is supposed to become a counterweight to democracy.

That's what I actually wanted to write in this column. But then this got in the way:

Donald Jessica Trump sometimes reminds one of King Midas. What the latter touched turned to gold. This is what Trump succeeds in when it comes to public relations. No matter what he says or does: his approval ratings grow. After the historic first mug shot of a former U.S. president, his followers did not turn away in horror, but donated record sums to his election campaign.

[rogersip]

Metro Bank in Pella, Oklahoma

Choosing a bank can be a daunting task, but if you're in the Pella area, the Metro Bank may be just what you're looking for. After all, the company is locally owned and operated, and provides a wide range of financial services to its customers. Whether you're looking for a loan or a savings account, the company's experts can help you achieve your financial goals.

Judge Seay's background

Among the judges presiding over the Federal District Court for the Eastern District of Oklahoma is a man with a name that is synonymous with crime, Frank Howell Seay. A former judge in the state of Oklahoma, Seay's background includes a stint as a judge in the Oklahoma District Court, where he served from 1980 to 1996. During that time, he also served as chief judge of the district court.

In addition to his judicial work, Seay was also involved in numerous civic organizations, including the board of the Orlando Science Center and the United Arts of Central Florida. He was also a member of the Leadership Orlando class of 1989. His practice involved commercial real estate, and he was a judge advocate in the United States Marine Corps.

Judge Dorough's background

Known to millions of children as the musical director of Schoolhouse Rock!, Bob Dorough's unique vocal style helped millions of kids learn math. He was an arranger, pianist, composer, and vocalist. He was also awarded an honorary degree by East Stroudsburg University in 2007.

He studied at Columbia University and North Texas State Teachers College before becoming a pianist. Dorough played with numerous musical groups and bands. He later signed with Blue Note Records. He contributed to a number of musical albums, including Money Rock, America Rock, and Grammar Rock. He also toured Europe with Fred Braceful, Bill Takas, and Michael Hornstein.

Dorough's debut album was released in 1956. It included lyrics from the Yardbird Suite by Charlie Parker. The song "Baltimore Oriole" caught the attention of Miles Davis. He asked Dorough to provide lyrics for a Christmas record.

E-statement delivery

Fortunately, Metro Bank has an impressive list of assets, not to mention a robust online and mobile banking experience. The big M is one of the largest banks in the country. It has a staff of over 12,000 with an average of over 900 employees per branch. Among its peers, Metro Bank boasts a plethora of banking products and services, including retail, business and commercial banking. It boasts a whopping $726 million in assets. Amongst the competition, Metro Bank has an industry-leading customer service rating. As for the actual employees, the company is a veritable mix of millennials and baby boomers.

Routing transit number

Whenever you make a payment through your checking account, you will be asked for the checking account routing number. This number identifies where your account was opened and where it is held. If you have any questions about your account, you should contact your bank. Generally, you will find the routing number on the left-hand side of a check. Typically, it consists of nine digits. It is issued by the American Bankers Association. In some cases, a bank may have more than one routing number. It also identifies the financial institution and the transaction type.

For example, a routing number is used for a domestic money transfer or a wire transfer. Similarly, a routing number can be used to process direct deposits or a bill payment.

Hours of operation

Located at 1920 Martin Street South in Pell City, Alabama, Metro Bank is a state trust company that offers a full range of banking services, including mortgages, loans and deposit services. Its main office, located at the bank's headquarters, has 45 employees and serves approximately 300 clients in Pell City and surrounding communities. The main office is open Monday through Friday, except on holidays. For more information on the company, visit its website at metrobank.com.

Metro Bank's website contains an extensive list of services and products, including financial planning, lending, and business services. The website also provides information on the company's charitable and community-oriented programs. Metro Bank offers an array of consumer loans, mortgages, savings and checking accounts, and online and mobile banking options. The company's website is also a great place to find out about special events, such as the annual golf tournament and the upcoming holiday season.

[stylishanachronism]

Gonna bite Worst teller I swear to god

[cecilysass]

The Kaleidoscope (4/4)

Read on AO3 | Angst, JealousMulder, MSR | Tagging @today-in-fic

take three.

Realization.

He’s distracted as he enters the garage, lost in the tangle of his thoughts as he walks to his car. When a black Camaro barrels down the ramp, much too fast, he isn’t even aware of it until it is almost too late.

When he does finally process the headlights coming directly at him, he reacts on pure instinct.

He springs forward exactly at the same time as the Camaro brakes. There is a demonic shriek of tires. It’s not a clean jump. The edge of the halting car knocks him, and he’s jettisoned violently forward.

There’s a painful impact. And the world goes dark.

***

“Can you hear me?”

“Should I call an ambulance?”

“I don’t see any blood. Is he hurt?”

A woman’s face, indistinct, looking down at him, her brow furrowed. “Young man? Can you hear me?”

He blinks, and his eyes slowly focus on details of the woman’s face. Middle-aged, black, glasses, a burgundy blazer, gold earrings.

“Yeah,” Mulder says blearily. “Yeah, I can hear you.”

“Are you all right?” Quentin stands behind the woman, looking down in anxious concern, and Mulder wonders stupidly if Mario is behind the security desk all by himself. A few other onlookers stand nearby, including a blonde woman Mulder recognizes as a receptionist from the sixth floor, and a short man he knows is a forensic accountant.

“Yeah.” Mulder sits up, gingerly. “I think I’m okay. I got clipped by a speeding car. Did you see it? It was going way too fast.”

“The Camaro.” The gold earrings woman shakes her head disapprovingly. “I saw it. I have to say, you’re fortunate to be alive.”

“I guess I am,” Mulder says weakly.

“You should go to the hospital and get checked out,” urges Quentin. “In case anything is busted in your head or something.”

“I’m sure lots is busted in my head,” Mulder says, starting to stand up. “But not from this.”

“Careful,” the gold earrings woman warns, grabbing his elbow. “Take it slow.”

“I really don’t think you should drive for a few minutes, Agent Mulder,” the blonde receptionist suggests, with a concerned frown. Mulder tries to recall her name. He and Scully have asked for her help a few times—Scully would definitely remember her name. “Sit down and make sure you’re okay first. A head injury can be dangerous.”

“That’s a good idea,” Quentin agrees. “Sit down.”

“I think I’m fine.” Mulder tries to look casually cheerful.

“Better safe than sorry,” the gold earrings woman says firmly. “Go sit for a few minutes. You have an office in the Hoover Building?”

“I have a desk,” Mulder says. “I can probably go upstairs and hang out a little while.”

The blonde receptionist, seemingly more familiar with his reputation than the others, looks unconvinced, crossing her arms in displeasure.

“And there’s someone who can help you if you don’t feel well?”

“My best friend is a doctor,” Mulder says evasively.

“You promise you won’t leave until you’re sure you’ve got your feet under you?” the gold earrings woman asks.

“Yeah,” Mulder smiles wanly.

Quentin claps Mulder on the back and shakes his head. “Man, you are having one bad day. First your heart breaks and then your head, right?”

Mulder gives Quentin a look and nods warily, glancing at the blonde receptionist, who knows Scully and therefore can’t be privy to any heartbreak talk.

“I’d say he’s having a very blessed day.” The gold earrings woman regards him seriously over the top of her glasses. “Someone up there wants him alive. You should ask yourself why, young man.”

***

Now that his unexpected near death encounter is over, Mulder’s mood reverts to gloomy fast. Scully is out on a date with some banker, and he is back in the bullpen by himself.

Her seat is empty, as are all the others. The entire bullpen, the whole floor, appears to have cleared out in record time. No eager worker bees putting in extra hours this Friday evening.

Sitting in the dark and deserted row of desks seems fitting, really.

Mulder slouches in his chair and sighs heavily. He probably doesn’t really need to stay here long. He feels fine. Just a few minutes, to satisfy the promises he made to his caretakers in the parking garage, and then he can go home.

He uses his legs to swing back and forth in his chair sulkily.

Maybe, in some great cosmic insult, every single agent but him is out with a significant other tonight. Perhaps even Agent Carnahan is out with somebody, some extra special human being who doesn’t mind a date making inappropriately-timed political jokes and coming at you with breath that always smells like scallions.

It is Friday night, after all. Date night. He tries to think of the last time he had a real date, one for which he put on some intentionally nice outfit, picked a restaurant, got a little nervous, and considered the etiquette of goodnight kisses. It must have been that pretty lawyer? That was at least five years ago, and he doesn’t even remember her name.

It’s embarrassing to admit it, but since that time, he has made lots of imitation dates on Friday nights.

At first he didn’t do it consciously. And then, after a while, he did. Usually his imitation dates have been something related to work, sort of, but sometimes, especially in more recent years, there’s not even that pretense. It’s just: Do you want to go get a beer? Want to grab takeout? Movie night? She almost never says no. On some rare occasions, she’s even been the one to suggest it.

Unless he’s the worst profiler in the world, she likes these evenings together. She rolls her eyes, sure, and she employs her sarcastic wit, but she’ll also smile, even laugh. He can usually figure out ways to get her to relax. She’ll toss out a flirtatious one-liner that will have him alert and sitting up straight. She’s affectionate. She’s occasionally rested her hand on his, just for a moment or two.

The kaleidoscope sitting on his desk catches his eye again, and he picks it up, shaking it to hear the beads inside roll around.

Well, so what. She enjoys an evening eating takeout with her partner. Her best friend. That’s obviously not enough for her.

He supposes he understands where she’s coming from. Viewed from a certain light, his imitation dates are sad. They are incomplete and unsatisfying. Not everyone wants perpetual Friday nights of half-assed ghost hunts and pizza from the box, plans designed to appear thrown together at the last minute, plans that feel intimate in some ways but lonely in others.

Plans that might lead to heads resting on shoulders. But never, ever to goodnight kisses, much less someone in your bed. He can see how you might want to move on to something more grown-up.

He feels a fresh little sting, realizing how much he’ll miss the imitation dates. How lonely he’s going to be, if from now on she’s going to be spending Fridays with someone else. They were enough for him. Sort of.

The ring of his cell phone breaks him out of his sad reverie. He raises his hips to fish it out of his pocket.

He presses it to his ear without thinking. “Mulder.”

“You’re a difficult man to reach, Fox.”

Of course it’s not Scully. Ridiculous to think it would be. “Diana.”

“I left you three messages today. Didn’t you get them?”

“Messages.” He considers that. “Oh. Right. With Scully.” He sees the stack of paper messages on his desk and picks them up. “I, uh, got them, but didn’t read them.”

“Is everything all right, Fox?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

“I was calling to make sure we were still on for lunch next week. I really want to pick your brain about the Deloitte case. There are some inconsistencies between the witness reports and the evidence, and I’m hoping you’ll be able to help me out.”

Mulder is spreading the six phone messages out in a grid on the desk, with the kaleidoscope at the top of the grid. He eyes them with some surprise. “Hmm.“

“We could get together tomorrow instead, if that’s better for you?”

“Uh,” he says. “I don’t know. Hey—”

“Yes?”

“Why did you leave me three messages?”

A pause.

“I told you, I was trying to talk to you about our meeting.”

“Three messages, though?”

“Well, I have to admit, I’m eager to talk to you about this one. Spender is adequate for some purposes, but there’s no mind like yours for the X-files. Which reminds me, I was also going to ask—”

“I guess what I mean is,” he says slowly, adjusting the paper messages carefully, “why would you call three times on my phone in the bullpen? I didn’t get any calls from you on my cell.”

“You were in with Kersh,” Diana says patiently. “You wouldn’t have been answering your cell.”

“But if you knew I was in with Kersh,” he says, biting his bottom lip, “then why would you keep calling? Why not wait for me to get out of the meeting? You called three times in under an hour.”

There is another pause. “It gave me a chance to talk to Agent Scully,” she says.

“Talk to Scully about what? The case?”

“No. Just — about other things. You know.”

“I don’t.”

“Why are you asking? Are you worried we were talking about you?”

“Were you talking about me, Diana?”

She just laughs very lightly, and it’s like a faint alarm bell ringing.

He stares at the messages with dawning realization.

One time, years ago, when they were together, he and Diana went to an FBI training seminar, and a young agent suggestively slipped Mulder her number. Diana had turned unrecognizably mercenary in finding out who the woman was and then in making a point of humiliating her before they left.

At the time, young and smitten as he was, he’d found this possessive mean streak of Diana’s alluring.

He doesn’t find it alluring now.

“Diana,” he says. “Let me ask this a different way. Have you been intentionally giving Scully the impression that you and I are… closer than we are?”

He hears her faint breathing on the line. “I’m going to be completely upfront with you here, Fox, because I know you value the truth. That’s possible.”

“Why?”

“Maybe I wish we were closer than we are,” she says. “Maybe I miss the closeness we used to have.”

“And how do you see that involving Scully?”

A low laugh. “Oh, Fox. Even you can’t be that oblivious.”

“Apparently I am.” His voice is flat.

“I miss what we had, Fox,” she says softly.

She’s possibly telling the truth, Mulder thinks. Or possibly she is primed to carry out some other agenda altogether, to place a strategic wedge between partners for reasons Scully has understood better than him all along.

“Do you remember what it was like… when we were close?” she adds, her voice colored with longing.

“Diana…” Mulder says thoughtfully, “do you honestly believe we were close? Do you think I really understood you? Or you me? I’m not sure I’d know. I’m not sure I’ve ever been in a truly close romantic relationship.”

“Fox–”

“But I am very sure about one thing. If you continue to try to fuck around with Scully’s mind—if you do anything at all to interfere in my partnership—you and I won’t have any kind of relationship at all.”

“Oh, Fox–”

He hangs up.

He stares at the messages again, twisting the kaleidoscope absently as he does. They’re all written in Scully’s neat handwriting, recording Diana’s name and time of call, dutifully jotting down each message: “You apparently left your sweater in her car Tuesday evening.”

He imagines the artful way Diana probably described his sweater being left in her car: what details were left out, what details were included. What kind of story she made the forgotten sweater tell. How she might have wielded that in conversation with Scully.

And how well did it work? What effect did it have? He thinks about Scully’s reserved tone when she discussed the messages with him, a stiffness in her posture as of late, a hundred other times she seemed distant.

All at once he feels certain it worked very well.

He feels sick to his stomach. Clearly he’s been astoundingly, unforgivably stupid. He hasn’t seen evidence right in front of him.

He knocks the messages angrily off his desk into the wastebasket below.

Now the events of the entire afternoon are cast in a very different light.

The kaleidoscope turns in his fingers. The pieces continue to fall.

***

On the drive home, Mulder thinks through what he could realistically say to her, if he were going to say anything. If that were even a good idea. He plays out different scenarios in his mind, all increasingly horrifying.

Scully, just so you know, I’m not dating Diana. Do you think you might not want to date that guy now?

Scully, why do Diana’s mind games work on you? What has Diana seen that I haven’t? Is it possibly related to a subtext—can we agree there’s a subtext?

Please. You’re my person, my only person. Please don’t date that seemingly stable and attractive banker.

He can’t imagine any of this, or any variation, being received well.

Maybe he’s just too late. Possibly now she is irreversibly charmed and intrigued by this Ryan. Maybe Ryan’s much funnier than he seemed on first impression, funnier than Mulder. Maybe he’s fucking amazing in bed.

The sound of his phone irritates him. It keeps incessantly ringing and ringing, and he knows he’s not going to answer it. It’s going to be a long time before he can even contemplate talking to Diana again. He reaches into his pocket and switches it off. No more.

***

Once he’s home, he decides to go for a run. It seems more productive than sulking and stewing around his apartment. Or calling Frohike and having him do research on Ryan, which he also seriously considers doing.

Running’s good. Healthy.

His run is fast, hard, invigorating. It’s warm outside for the season, and his shirt sticks to him, but it feels satisfying to sweat it out.

Sometimes, when trying to think through a problem, running can provide him with crucial mental clarity. He can’t say that exactly happens today, but the jolt of physical activity calms him down anyway, shaves off the sharper edges of his anxiety.

He walks down the hallway to his apartment feeling pleasantly worn out. He decides to shower and order some food, try to keep his mind distracted from Scully and her date, and possibly aim for bed early.

Tomorrow he’ll figure out what to do. Tomorrow maybe things will seem more clear.

He unlocks his door, steps inside, and nearly jumps out of his skin.

“Where have you been?” Scully demands. She leaps up from his couch, racing to intercept him before he’s made it even three steps inside.

“Scully…?”

“You went for a run?” she gasps, looking down at his clothes. “Mulder, what were you thinking?” Her palms fly to his face, manipulating his head slightly from side to side.

“Scully…what’re you doing here?” he tries, as she rotates his jaw down and looks in his eyes. “What about your date?”

“Do you have a headache? Nausea or vomiting?” she asks sharply. Her eyes are boring into his, her hands running over his sweaty forehead, and he finally puts together that she is examining him.

“No,” he says helplessly. He’s intensely aware of how close she has pressed her determined body into his, how she is wearing some kind of fitted black date dress, how rumpled and smelly he must be.

“Double vision? Ringing in the ears?”

“No…”

“Any disorientation? Confusion?

“Wait, wait,” he says, swatting her hands away. “Stop. What is this? What are you doing?”

She steps back, regarding him in disbelief. “You were hit by a car. You were unconscious, Mulder. You have to be examined for a concussion. You can’t just get up and walk away, assuming you’re fine.”

“I am experiencing some disorientation and confusion, as a matter of fact,” he says. He shuts the door and steps past her, headed for his couch. “Like…how did you know I was hit by a car?”

“Natalie told me,” Scully says indignantly, following after him, her hands on her hips. “Natalie who works on the sixth floor, the receptionist?“

“Right, Natalie,” Mulder says. Scully does know her name. Of course.

“Ryan and I were having drinks at Oiseaux, and she came in — and when she recognized me, she told me she’d just seen you have an accident in the parking garage. That you’d been hit by a speeding car.”

Mulder sinks down on his couch and stares at her. “Why would she do that? Why would she interrupt your date to tell you that?“

Scully rolls her eyes. “Come on, Mulder, the whole building calls me Mrs. Spooky.” She sits down next to him. “Not to mention, I think she felt somewhat worried about you.” Her forehead furrows. “I was worried, too, once I heard what happened.”

She shakes her head, and then smacks his knee with the back of her hand. “I can’t believe you would come home and go running. The number of injuries you’ve had? You should know better.”

Mulder smiles a little, glancing over at her. He can’t help but feel a rush of pleasure at her concern, even though he knows that’s childish and self-absorbed.

“No disorientation at all? No memory problems?” she adds.

“No,” he says. “Not that I remember, anyway.”

She gives him a look and sighs. “Natalie said you were going to wait at your desk a few minutes before you drove home.” A sideways skeptical glance. “I knew that had to be a lie, because you’d never voluntarily go back up to the bullpen.”

“I did,” he protests. “I sat in the bullpen and waited. Then I seemed fine, so I drove home.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“Scully.” Mulder laughs weakly. “You were on a date.”

“Then you should have gone to the hospital.”

“Come on, the car didn’t even hit me full on,” he scoffs.

“What a ridiculous thing to say, Mulder. If you were unconscious at all, a concussion is always a possibility.”

They’re sitting side by side, and Mulder realizes how strange the situation is. How physically close she is to him, in a beautiful dress, but how even making eye contact with her feels too intimate. How she’s supposed to be on a date, but she’s here bickering with her sweaty partner instead.

“Sometimes I make bad choices,” Mulder says haplessly.

“Certainly the understatement of the year.”

“Why’d you drive all the way over, Scully?” He turns his head to look at her. “You should have just called.”

“I tried to call, Mulder. Quite assiduously, actually. You weren’t answering your phone, which was also alarming.”

“Oh. Yeah,” Mulder says, remembering. “I turned it off. So you came here from…?”

“Oiseaux? Yes.”

“You just left Ryan?”

“Obviously I explained there was an emergency.”

“But it’s not an emergency.”

“Yes, well, I didn’t know that,” she says tensely, throwing her hands in the air. For the first time, he understands she has actually been on edge. “It felt like an emergency to me. I didn’t know where you were… or why you weren’t answering your phone.”

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” he says.

“You were in such a strange mood when Ryan and I left. I just…” She drifts off.

“You thought I jumped in front of a speeding Camaro, Scully?”

“No,” she says quickly. “And that’s not funny.”

He stares at her profile. He has a thousand questions for her and a thousand things to tell her.

“Were you having a good time?” he asks casually. “On your date?”

“Sure,” Scully says, shrugging.

“Did you order a fancy drink at Oiseaux? You’ve wanted to go there forever.”

“Just a glass of wine,” she says.

“Is Ryan a good conversationalist? Is he funny? Interesting?”

She turns to look at him. Her eyes run carefully over his face. “I suppose he is.”

“That’s good, right?” Mulder smiles at her. “I assume that’s what you want?”

She continues to study Mulder. “Those are desirable qualities, yes.”

“If you wanted to, you could probably call him and meet up with him again now,” Mulder says. “So you don’t ruin your night. You’re dressed up. You look nice.”

“It’s just my work outfit without the jacket,” she says. “But thank you.” She looks down at her dress, smoothing it with her hands, then back up at him. “I think I’d rather stay here and just make certain you’re all right.”

“Okay,” he says softly, feeling a little bubble of pleasure. “You’re always welcome, obviously.”

There is a pause. Mulder gestures towards the bathroom. “Am I allowed to go take a shower? Or is that too dangerous?”

“You may,” she says archly. “If I hear a thump on the floor, I’ll come in to rescue you.”

“Now that’s the kind of service I’ve come to expect from my house calls.”

“Maybe I should order food?”

“Yes,” he agrees eagerly, hopping up off the couch, his mood now buoyant.

As he starts to walk towards the shower, he has the impulse to unsettle the established pattern. Right now, while she is staying, while he has the chance.

He turns around again, hesitating only a second before he can change his mind.

“You don’t look ‘nice,’ Scully,” he says carefully, seriously. “You look… beautiful. You always look beautiful.”

She has just stood up from the couch, and she freezes, staring back, her expression actually stunned. “Thank you,” she says, her voice barely audible.

He nods, spins around, and heads towards the bathroom.

***

As he’s toweling off out of the shower, he hears his home phone ringing. He considers shouting for Scully to pick it up, but decides it’s probably better to let the machine get it. The only person he’d really want to talk to is here. Not on her date: here. Which feels like the second turn of incredibly good fortune he’s had this evening. He smiles to himself.

In the other room he hears the drone of the machine and the murmur of someone talking on the message as he puts on boxers and jeans.

When he steps into his bathroom to put on deodorant, he realizes the caller’s voice is female. And recognizable.

He grabs a tee shirt and walks out into the living room, where he can hear the tail end of the message playing clearly.

“…again, so sorry, Fox. I’m sure you’re going to need a day or two, but at least I hope you’ll be willing to consult with me about the X-files. I hope I speak to you soon.”

Scully is standing over the machine with her back to him. He wonders if she’s upset.

“Hey,” he says, pulling the gray tee over his wet hair. “It was Diana, huh?”

Scully turns around quickly, hugging herself tightly. She looks startled, and perhaps a little guilty.

“Yes,” she says. “She left you a message.”

“So I gathered. What’d she say?”

“It’s long,” Scully says awkwardly. “Maybe you just should listen.”

“Would you mind summarizing?”

She blinks. “All right.”

Her gaze goes up to the ceiling, as if playing it back mentally.

“She’s sorry,” she recites, her voice unsteady. “She says that she shouldn’t have tried to interfere in…your partnership. That she knows how important it is to you. She did it because of her feelings for you. She hopes you can forgive her. She still wants your input on the X-files.”

“Hmm,” Mulder says with a nod. He eyes her. “None of that seems very surprising. Did you order food?”

“I did,” she says. “So you two had a…falling out?”

“Yeah,” Mulder says. “I guess that’s what I’d call it. I’m not sure if you can have a falling out if you weren’t… fallen in. Let’s just say I think you were probably right about her not really being my friend.”

Scully’s forehead creases and she nods, slowly.

“I’m going to need to think about how to handle her going forward,” he continues. “Because we do need access to the X-files.”

“What does she mean about ‘interfering with your partnership?’”

Mulder bites his bottom lip. “It seems she tried to mislead you about the nature of my relationship with her. She thought it would upset you and put distance between us.”

Scully’s eyebrows lift sky high. “Oh.”

“Out of curiosity,” he says, trying to sound offhand, “did it work?”

She hesitates, pressing her lips together, seeming to make a decision. “Yes.”

“I thought it might have,” he says. “I’m sorry. I should have guessed what was happening earlier.” He pauses, looking her over carefully. “Why did it upset you, Scully?”

She recrosses her arms protectively and stares back at him. “I suppose it made me feel like there were things you weren’t telling me. Things you were sharing with her instead.”

Mulder opts to be direct. “You were jealous?”

“Jealous? We’re not a couple, Mulder,” she scoffs, turning to sit on the couch.

“That didn’t exactly answer the question.”

“You should rest. You’ve pushed it enough tonight.”

“I was jealous, you know,” he says.

Now her eyes shoot back up to his, on high alert.

“You know that, right? You must have known why I was in such a strange mood tonight.”

“Mulder,” she says uncomfortably.

“Come on. You had to notice. I was hating that guy, Scully.” He moves to sit down next to her, scooting as close into her orbit as he dares.

“It did seem like you were… but I just…” She shakes her head, and she looks truly frustrated. “I don’t understand why.”

“Because—” He can hardly get the words out. “Because he’s this stranger who shows up and kisses you, and takes you out on Friday night. Probably … does other things. And I know, I know, we’re not a couple.”

“No, we’re not.“

“And I know, he’s probably a good choice. A good guy. You wouldn’t date him if he weren’t.” Mulder’s knee is nearly touching hers. “Still, I’ll admit that I think of you as … I think of you as mine.”

He reaches out, taking her small hand from her lap and placing it palm to palm on top of his. With his fingertip, he begins to trace an idle, winding pattern over the back of her hand.

She inhales softly, her eyes watching him.

“But you’re not mine,” he says, letting his fingertip come to a stop, ending the pattern. “Not actually. I know that, too.”

He waits for her to say something. He can only hear her breathing.

“Mulder?” she says at last in a small voice.

“Yeah?”

“I have some questions about what you just said.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

There’s another unbearable pause. Mulder clears his throat. “Are you going to ask them, Scully?”

Her gaze can’t quite settle between her arm and his face. “You had this … epiphany about your possessive feelings because I’m dating Ryan?”

His finger traces an N and O on her forearm. “It’s not new.” He meets her eyes. “It’s hardly an epiphany.”

She nods, her face completely unreadable to him. At least she isn’t pulling her arm away.

“This ‘being yours’ thing,” she says, her voice soft, “what do you see that involving, exactly?”

“What do I see it involving?”

“Yes,” she says. His tracing finger has slowed. Ever-so-slightly, she nudges her hand towards him. He obediently resumes drawing changing patterns over her arm lightly again. He notices now that all the tiny hairs on her arm have sprung up.

“I don’t know, Scully,” he says. The sensation of her skin beneath his fingertip is absorbing part of his attention, and he is scrambling to catch up with what it might mean that she just prompted him to touch her like this. “I don’t know if I see it involving anything—so much as being a feeling.”

“Oh,” she says faintly. “That’s exactly what I was wondering.”

He draws a featherlight question mark on her arm.

“If I were actually yours,” she says, “it couldn’t just be a feeling. It would have to involve … something real.”

He looks up at her, a question in his eyes. In response, she removes her hand from his. He worries, until he realizes from her expression she has something else in mind.

She bends her legs up, and her feet slip out of her heels, sending them clattering to the floor. She then scoots towards the end of the couch, reclining against the arm rest. She deposits her small stockinged feet into his lap.

Her eyes look to him cautiously. Expectantly.

It only takes him a second to understand and react, placing his fingertip on the top of her foot, beginning to draw the little patterns over her ankle and calf.

Her black stockings are silky and smooth, and he lets a few more fingers join in the tracing, until really it’s just the end of his hand trailing in soothing circles.

“Do you—do you have other questions?” he asks conversationally, as though this is not happening, as though he is not touching her leg like this, as though he were not already having an increasingly obvious physical reaction in his lap just inches from her feet.

“Yes,” she sighs deeply, her head rolling a little. The apparent effect his touch is having on her sends another wave of desire through him. “Do you think you feel possessive of me because I’m your partner? Because you want control of my time?”

He shakes his head. “No. Well. Yes.”

“Unclear answer.” Her voice is low. He is slowly outlining the S-curve of her calf with his fingertips, taking his time, like he is an artist.

“I’m possessive because you’re my partner, yeah. But it’s more than that.” He swallows, his attention on the lines of her leg, the slippery feel of the stocking gliding under his hand. “I’m possessive because I’m scared.”

“Do you feel … scared right now, Mulder?”

He slides forward slightly, and his hand edges up to the inside of her knee, and he circles gently around her knee cap with the tips of his fingers.

“I’m feeling nervous, maybe,” he whispers. “Not scared.”

Her face blooms into a tentative smile at that, so Mulder assumes that was the right answer. The path of his hand swoops up past her knee, dipping under the hem of her skirt. Her legs part with no hesitation.

Mulder slows, looking up at her face, still trying to comprehend what is happening. Her eyes meet his, and it’s like they are both waiting for the other to call their bluff.

Well. It won’t be him.

He slips his hand up the silky slope of her thigh, and she drops further back against the arm of his couch and exhales raggedly, watching him intently.

His fingers reach the prickly lace tops of her stockings, which are apparently thigh highs. He’s momentarily a little dazzled by how much of an erotic fantasy this has become. It’s almost overwhelming, circuits on overload, like being a teenager touching a girl for the first time.

His other hand now dives under her skirt, too, to run along the rough lace edge of the stockings on her other leg. Scully gives him the barest hint of a smile, and Mulder, now longing to see, dares to hitch up the skirt of her dress a little. There’s a flash of bright white thigh providing contrast atop the black stockings. It’s all far more sexy attire than he really imagined Scully had going on under her work clothes.

That idea makes him halt abruptly. He withdraws his hands, stiffening.

Scully, looking questioningly at him, sits up a little.

“Did you wear these stockings for your date? For Ryan?” he says. He’s horrified at how vulnerable he sounds, how hurt, how angry.

She stares at him in surprise, unmoving for a moment.

“Oh,” she says, “you weren’t lying about that jealous thing.”

She sits up and begins to affectionately rake her fingers through his hair, soothing him.

“Mulder,” she says. “I didn’t think it was ever going to happen with you. It’s the reason it seemed like a good idea to say yes to someone like Ryan.”

Her hand runs down the line of his jaw, and he turns into her touch, his expression unhappy. “Okay.”

“He seemed like a good choice, like you said. Like maybe someone I could potentially be happy with.”

“Hmm,” he says. This isn’t what he wants to hear. Still, here she is, right? She’s here with him. He plants tiny kisses over her fingers.

“But there’s a bit of a boredom problem, I admit.”

He turns his head to look at her. “Oh?”

“A little, yeah. It’s hard to talk to him about my life in any way that makes sense. If you know what I mean.”

“I do.” He nods, leaning sideways over her. “I think I do.”

“I just don’t think it’s going to work out.”

“Aw, Scully. I wish I could say I was sorry to hear that.” Mulder’s smile is sincere, but his eyes are running greedily over the pale swath of skin above the neckline of her dress. He lowers his head into her personal space, ghosting his lips along the column of her neck experimentally.

“No offense to Ryan,” she continues. Mulder begins to meticulously graze up her jugular vein, lightly and carefully with his lips. She pauses for a half second. “He seems very nice, and we have a few things in common but… he’s not really someone to wear special undergarments for.”

“No?” Mulder lifts his mouth from her neck, looking up with interest. “Who is, then?”

“Not to disappoint you, but these stockings are actually just my regular warm weather office wear,” she says, dropping her head back as though offering him her neck. “I feel like you’re looking for a different answer.”

“Tell me a different answer,” Mulder begs, now applying his tongue across her collarbone.

“The main issue with Ryan,” she says in a low voice, threading her fingers through his hair, “is that I have this partner, and for whatever reason, he seems to be my…”

“Person. I’m your person.” Mulder murmurs directly into her damp skin.

“I was going to say ‘recurring preoccupation.’” Scully strokes his hair.

She lifts his head off of her clavicles and twists his face toward hers.

“Preoccupation,” he repeats, his mouth hovering inches from hers as he studies her lips. They’re pink, the color of cherry blossoms, curved, slightly parted. He’s reminded of Ryan placing his unearned peck on them with that stranger mouth.

He feels a powerful surge of possessiveness, something he doesn’t think he’s ever felt towards a woman quite like this. Reaching under her slightly bent knees, he drags her further down the couch so that he can better reach her. He leans in swiftly and pins her mouth with his, and she makes a tiny whimper of surprise.

If she questioned it, he couldn’t rationally justify this feeling to her, but every cell in his body tells him she belongs here, exclusively, to him. When she makes another soft sound, he finds himself lost and falling further in. Her lily smell. Her impossibly soft lips. His hips flex involuntarily.

She feels his reaction and pauses, framing his face with her hands. Her eyes are very bright, the pupils black and gleaming. Dragging her hands down the sides of his face again, letting her palms stutter over his stubble, she mouths softly whispered words. “I was jealous, too.”

He smiles, because he knows this, of course.

“I couldn’t stand the idea,” she leans in to whisper in his ear.

“Why’s that?”

She pushes her lips slowly back on his. Their kisses turn over again and again, like the flecks in the kaleidoscope.

With each press of his mouth, Scully reclines slowly back, her hands around his neck pulling him down with her. He nestles into the space between her body and the back of the couch, and he slides his hand back up her dress to the top of the stockings, running his hands along the jagged lacy tops, then higher to stroke that petal soft skin of her inner thigh. His fingers play back and forth there. He’s taken with that small tactile pleasure: how soft, how perfectly soft.

In reaction, her legs wriggle delightfully against him. She hitches her own skirt up to her waist to give him better access, her legs falling open a bit more, and he breaks their kiss and glances down to see, reaching up further to find the edge of her panties.

His eyes fly back up to hers, checking in to see if this next step is okay. Scully—flushed, out of breath, her lips wet from his kisses— locks her eyes on his again, and she nods.

He reaches down and pushes the panties aside. His finger makes its way to slip inward, brushing across her wet core, and Scully reacts instantly, her body going taut, her breath sucking in.

“That’s it,” he whispers. Her breathing speeds up as his finger circles her, then moves into her folds. Mulder realizes he’s so laser focused on her, her every movement, that his breathing is trying to sync with hers, too.

His finger, and then another, test out what she likes best. He watches as her eyes flutter shut, her head tilts back, and messy strands of red hair loop across her face. A gasp escapes her mouth, and he leans over to press his mouth back to hers, tender now. He nips carefully there as she pants little breaths on his lips, his fingers beginning a rhythm she seems to respond to.

“It’s just you,” she breathes, opening her eyes to look at him. “No one else.”

“Just us,” he agrees. He thinks she’s the most fucking beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his life.

She comes quietly, her mouth open in a silent cry, her hands clawing at Mulder’s back. He sighs and mouths kisses down her neck. His body collapses a little over hers, and he presses his cheek into her chest, letting her rest, listening to the thump of her heart.

They’re there for only a few seconds when there’s a knock at the door.

Mulder’s head lifts off of Scully in alarm, meeting her eyes. There’s no way Diana would come over, is there? Or it’s not Ryan coming to look for his date? He doesn’t see panic reflected back in her expression; Scully’s eyes are all sea blue calm.

“The food,” she reminds him in a rough voice, her lips curling into a tiny smile. “Dinner.”

“Right,” he nods, returning her smile, standing. “I guess I’ll get that.” He gives her what he hopes is a playful look. “Because, uh, frankly, you seem a little disheveled, Scully.”

She leans back on the couch and smiles more completely, struggling to adjust her panties and skirt, looking unperturbed. This is apparently one delightful way to mellow out Scully on Friday night, he can’t help but note.

“All right,” she says, “but maybe carry a blanket or something in front of you, Mulder.”

She gestures to the sizable bulge in his jeans, arching an eyebrow. He grabs the Navajo blanket.

***

Much later, when it is no longer Friday night but some time in the wee hours on Saturday, he’s awake in his bed thinking about happenstance.

It’s just like him to ponder this kind of topic after he’s had sex for the first time in years, he thinks. He should be more like Scully and bliss out into some impressive post-coital sleep.

He turns his head to burrow his face in her hair, closing his eyes. Her head feels like it is creating an indentation on his bare chest, a pleasant warm weight. He can’t see her face, but he can hear her snoring lightly.

It’s all very good. The best outcome he could imagine.

If he had lingered in the lobby a moment longer, though, made further contact with the Camaro, he could easily be experiencing … nothing. Absence. End. It all seems so unacceptably arbitrary.

In truth it wasn’t really the Camaro that first set the evening branching into possibility.

It was Ryan. The date. The kiss. The wiggle of instability that could have pushed him in any direction. So many ways he could have fucked it up. What guarantees it ever lines up to one’s advantage?

“Go to sleep,” Scully’s voice breathes creakily from his chest. “Stop tensing muscles.”

“Sorry,” he says, quickly kissing the top of her head in penitence. “I will.”

He can tell she hasn’t gone back to sleep though. Her head shifts slightly.

“Having regrets?” she whispers offhand, like that’s a nothing question.

“Yep,” he says, leaning in towards her in an intimate whisper. “I’m really going to miss unrequited love and unsatisfied celibacy. How could I give that all up so easily? I take it all back.”

“Not unrequited,” she mumbles. “Never unrequited.”

He draws his arms around her more tightly, skimming his hands up her bare back, and she makes a humming noise.

“It just seems so unacceptable, Scully,” he says, as she readjusts her face and cracks open her eyes. “What leads us to one outcome over another is so frivolous, so whimsical. The half second step or stumble that makes the difference between death by Camaro or pouting in your apartment alone or lying in bed with a beautiful woman. It seems like there should be more meaning to it.”

“Who says there isn’t?”

“That’s what the woman with gold earrings who helped me in the parking garage thought,” Mulder says, yawning. “She saw some purpose.”

“You don’t like that idea?”

“I guess it depends on what we mean by purpose. God? Fate? I don’t know, Scully,” he says. “It scares me that my small choices have the power to change my future so dramatically. But it scares me to think there’s someone else calling the shots, too.”

“I’m calling the shots,” Scully murmurs sleepily. “That should scare you.”

He moves in and kisses her. “That delights me, actually.”

“It’s possible that something could have happened tonight that would have led to me not being here right now,” Scully says, blinking. “But I think in the end, we’d have ended up here somehow.”

“You think the elements were all there, it was just a matter of how and when.”

“More or less.”

“Like the turn of the kaleidoscope. The pattern varies, the chips are all the same.”

A muffled laugh. “Jesus, we’re going to have to get you a new toy, Mulder.”

His lips find the whorl of her ear. “I may be sufficiently entertained for the time being.”

[greatworldwar2]

• Duško Popov

Dušan "Duško" Popov OBE was a Serbian triple agent who served as part of the MI6 and Abwehr during World War II, and passed off disinformation to Germany as part of the Double-Cross System and working also as agent for the Yugoslav government-in-exile in London.

Dušan "Duško" Popov was born to a Serb family in Titel, Austria-Hungary on July 10th, 1912. His parents were Milorad and Zora Popov. He had an older brother named Ivan ("Ivo") and a younger brother named Vladan. The family was exceedingly wealthy and owed its fortune to Popov's paternal grandfather, Omer, a wealthy banker and industrialist who founded a number of factories, mines, and retail businesses. Records from as early as 1773 describe them as the most affluent family there. Popov's father expanded the family's business interests to include real estate dealings. When Popov was an infant, the family left Titel and permanently relocated to their summer residence in Dubrovnik, which was their home for much of the year. They also had a manor in Belgrade, where they spent the winter months. Popov's childhood coincided with a series of monumental political changes in the Balkans. In November 1918, Austria-Hungary disintegrated into a number of smaller states, and its Balkan possessions were incorporated into the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats and Slovenes (renamed Yugoslavia in 1929). The newly established, Serb-led state was plagued by political infighting among its various constitutive ethnic groups, particularly Serbs and Croats, but also Hungarians and Germans. The young Popov and his family enjoyed a luxurious lifestyle and were far removed from the political turmoil in the country. They boasted a sizeable collection of villas and yachts, and were attended by servants, even on their travels. Popov's father indulged his sons, building a spacious villa by the sea for their exclusive use where they could entertain their friends and host expensive parties. He was also insistent that they receive a quality education. Apart from his native Serbian, Popov was fluent in Italian, German and French by his teenage years. Between the ages of 12 and 16, he attended a lycée in Paris.

In 1929, Popov's father enrolled him into Ewell Castle, a prestigious preparatory school in Surrey. Popov's stint at the school proved to be short lived. After only four months, he was expelled following an altercation with a teacher. He had previously endured a caning at the teacher's hands after being caught smoking a cigarette. Another caning was adjudicated after Popov missed a detention, and so as to evade further corporal punishment, Popov grabbed the teacher's cane and snapped it in two before his classmates. Popov's father subsequently enrolled him at Lycée Hoche, a secondary institution in Versailles, which he attended for the following two years. At the age of 18, Popov enrolled in the University of Belgrade, seeking an undergraduate degree in law. Over the next four years, he became a familiar face in Belgrade's cafes and nightclubs, and had the reputation of a ladies' man. In 1934, Popov enrolled in the University of Freiburg, intent on securing a doctorate in law. Germany had only recently come under the rule of Adolf Hitler and the Nazi Party, but at the time, Popov paid little regard to politics. He had chosen Freiburg because it was relatively close to his native country and he was eager to improve his German-language skills. Germany was already the site of mass book burnings, the first concentration camps had been established and the systematic persecution of Jews had commenced.

Popov began his studies at the University of Freiburg in the autumn of 1935, and in subsequent months, began showing greater interest in politics and voiced his political opinions more vigorously. Around the same time, he befriended a fellow student, Johnny Jebsen, the son of a German shipping magnate. The two grew close, largely due to their raucous lifestyle and a shared interest in sports vehicles. In 1937, Popov began participating in debates at the Ausländer Club, which were held every other Friday evening. He was disappointed that many foreign students appeared to be swayed by the pro-Nazi arguments espoused there. Popov discovered that the German debaters were all hand-picked party members who chose the subject of each debate beforehand and vigorously rehearsed Nazi talking points. He persuaded Jebsen, then the president of the club, to inform him of the debate topics in advance and passed this information along to the British and American debaters. Popov himself delivered two speeches at the club, arguing in favour of democracy. He also wrote several articles for the Belgrade daily Politika, ridiculing the Nazis. In the summer of 1937, Popov completed his doctoral thesis, and decided to celebrate by embarking on a trip to Paris. Before he could leave, he was arrested by the Gestapo, who accused him of being a communist. His movements had been tracked by undercover agents beforehand and his acquaintances questioned. Popov was incarcerated at the Freiburg prison without formal proceedings. When Jebsen received news of his friend's arrest, he called Popov's father and informed him of what had occurred. Popov's father contacted Yugoslav Prime Minister Milan Stojadinović, who raised the issue with Hermann Göring, and after eight days in captivity, Popov was released. He was ordered to leave Germany within 24 hours, and upon collecting his belongings, boarded a train for Switzerland.

He soon arrived in Basel and found Jebsen waiting for him on the station platform. Jebsen informed Popov of the role he played in securing his release. Popov expressed gratitude and told Jebsen that if he was ever in need of any assistance he needed only ask. Upon his return to Dubrovnik in the fall of 1937, Popov began practicing law. In February 1940, he received a message from Jebsen, asking to meet him at the Hotel Serbian King in Belgrade. Popov was shocked to find Jebsen a nervous wreck, chain smoking and drinking exorbitantly. He told Popov that he had joined his family's shipping business after graduating from Freiburg and explained that he needed a Yugoslav shipping license to evade the Allied naval blockade at Trieste. Popov agreed to help Jebsen, and the latter travelled back to Berlin to collect the required documentation. Two weeks later, Jebsen returned to Belgrade, and informed Popov that he had joined the Abwehr, German's military intelligence service. Jebsen's ability to travel across Europe on business trips would remain unimpeded so long as he submitted reports detailing the information he had received from his business contacts. He told Popov he joined the Abwehr to avoid being conscripted into the Wehrmacht. Jebsen said military service was not an option because he suffered from varicose veins. The news came as a surprise to Popov, as his friend had previously expressed anti-Nazi views.

Popov informed Clement Hope, a passport control officer at the British legation in Yugoslavia. Hope enrolled Popov as a double agent with the codename Scoot (he was later known to his handler as Tricycle), and advised him to cooperate with Jebsen. Once accepted as a double agent, Popov moved to London. His international business activities in an import-export business provided cover for visits to neutral Portugal; its capital, Lisbon, was linked to the UK by a weekly civilian air service for most of the war. Popov used his cover position to report periodically to his Abwehr handlers in Portugal. Popov fed enough MI6-approved information to the Germans to keep them happy and unaware of his actions, and was well-paid for his services. The assignments given to him were of great value to the British in assessing enemy plans and thinking. His most important deception was convincing the Germans that the D-Day landings would be in Calais, not Normandy, and was able to report back to MI6 that they fell for this deception, which corroborated Bletchley Park's decryption of Lorenz cipher machine messages. Popov was famous for his playboy lifestyle, while carrying out perilous wartime missions for the British.

In 1944, Popov became a key part of the deception operation codenamed Fortitude. At the time of the operation, he was staying in Portugal. He stayed in Estoril once again, at the Hotel Palácio, between March 31st and April 12th, 1944. When Jebsen was arrested by the Gestapo in Lisbon, the British feared Popov had been compromised and ceased giving him critical information to pass along to the Germans. It was later discovered that the Abwehr still regarded Popov as an asset and he was brought back into use by the British. Jebsen's death at the hands of the Nazis had a profound emotional impact on Popov.

In 1972, John Cecil Masterman published The Double Cross System in the War of 1939 to 1945, an intimate account of wartime British military deception. Before its publication, Popov had no intention of revealing his wartime activities, believing that the MI6 would not allow it. Masterman's book convinced Popov that it was time to make his exploits public. In 1974, Popov published an autobiography titled Spy/Counterspy, "a racy account of his adventures that read like a James Bond novel." Miller describes it as "fundamentally accurate, if occasionally embellished". Several of the events described in the book were either entirely fictional, such as a fistfight Popov claimed to have had with a German agent, exaggerated for dramatic effect, or could not be substantiated through subsequently declassified intelligence records. Popov's wife and children were apparently unaware of his past until the book's publication. By the early 1980s, years of chain smoking and heavy drinking had taken a toll on Popov's health. He died in Opio on August 10th, 1981, aged 69. His family said his death came after a long illness. He was predeceased by his brother Ivo, who died in 1980. Popov was the subject of a one-hour television documentary produced by Starz Inc. and Cinenova, titled True Bond, which aired in June 2007. Two other documentaries recounting Popov's exploits, The Real Life James Bond: Dusko Popov and Double Agent Dusko Popov: Inspiration for James Bond, have also been produced.

[mxpseudonym]

Everything There Is

Pairing: Tommy x OC

Summary: Florence and Tommy are in this together.

Request: “Hi! Can you do a Tommy x oc or reader as his wife in an arranged marriage where she is also a business woman and their marriage was a sort of contract and their relationship is mainly professional apart from sex n all, and Tommy comes home all worn out and she asks him to share with her and tommy is reluctant but she assures and reminds him that she is capable of protecting the family, Charlie and Tommy too. And then they just kiss and Tommy leans into her or something. Thank you!!” 

Length: 1650 words (allegedly)

Warnings: Underlying tones of forced/arranged marriage

A/N: Hello sweet, tender anon. This was a joy to write, especially Charlie 🥺. What a sweet angel.

--

Florence Heywood had been meeting with Tommy for two years about his investments. At first, Shelby Company Ltd simply needed advice from her property management company about renting and leasing. However, Florence and Tommy quickly found they were both as ambitious and calculating as the other. Unlike her other clients, Tommy didn't gaff at her suggestions of overseas ventures or buying big. It was a joyous union. Even Florence's mother didn't understand her dedication to the company. However, it was the senior Mrs. Heywood's father, who left the business to his granddaughter.  

"Don't you have enough, dear? You've come so far, not just as a woman, but as a business owner," her mother said after being told that grandchildren were not a priority. Florence wanted more. She was a modern woman who craved a legacy and a family name that honored her grandfather's work. 

"Enough of that," Tommy said, sliding a few signed documents into a folder before turning to her. "I told you to stop being so easy to read. Now, what's wrong?" 

Florence rolled her eyes but was thankful when Tommy went to pour them some whiskey. The upside to meeting at Tommy's home was that the rules were nonexistent. She didn't even have to leave her shoes on.

"My mother wants me to get married soon, probably have kids," she groaned. "She's set me up to go to the pictures with a banker on Friday."

"Isn't that what most women want?" Tommy walked over and handed her a glass of amber liquid. 

"You'd be surprised," Florence said, then sighed. "I'm just scared." 

"Florence Heywood is scared of something? Hard to believe." Tommy shook his head. 

"My grandfather left me his business when it was just one tiny office on Victoria Street. He put everything he had into it to make something of our name and pass something on. What if some prick weasels his way in and ruins it all? It’ll be his to gamble away. Or starts mistreating my employees. It's the stuff of nightmares." She shivered and looked to Tommy, who nodded in understanding. 

"We Shelby's want to do the same thing. Work hard enough to have what the toffs do- the opportunities and good fortune. My brothers and I fought side by side with those fuckers in the war. We get the shell shock, blow our bloody brains out, fuckin' live with demons, don't we? But they got everything, and we got nothing. Nothing changed." Tommy said. Florence was surprised to hear him talk with her like this but certainly didn't stop him. "But I have my family and my son. Anything less than success is unacceptable. You're right to be critical. You've got to know who's on your side." 

"Easier said than done," she mumbled. "How is Charlie, by the way?"

"He's with his tutor now. Won't stop talking about that train set you told him about last time," Tommy chuckled. Florence's grandfather's spare room that had the most extensive train set she'd seen. She was happy to tell Charlie all about it, but now he was intrigued.

"I'll happily take the blame."

"Hope you've got something planned to remedy this in the near future."

"I will talk to Father Christmas," Florence offered with a laugh. She sighed and thought of all of what Tommy has worked for and her as well. "You know what, Tommy? You and I are doing it. We're making a name for ourselves. Even when no one understands what we want, we have a vision." Tommy smirked, noticing that the strong drink was already making her eyes a bit glossy.

"And what is it that we want?" He asked. She raised her glass and motioned for him to do the same.

"Everything there is." 

In life, Tommy wasn’t often surprised. Sure he was blind sided now and again, but his cynical nature taught him to expect the worst. A few weeks after his optimistic toast with her, Florence arranged a meeting on the grounds of having a new venture for him that would challenge his ability to be two steps ahead. The last thing he expected was a marriage contract. Like any other venture, she laid out the facts, including Tommy needing to do something good for his image as a new politician. 

"This is really...something." Tommy looked over her detailed work in a slight daze. 

"I know, and please don't think I take this lightly. I'm just thinking about Shelby Company Ltd and Heywood Capital, establishing a bloody empire," Florence explained. Tommy could see the stars in her eyes as she thought about the possibilities. It was her promise that locked him in, however.  

"Tommy Shelby, I will protect you if you will protect me. That's as good as any marriage, isn't it?"  

Tommy thought about it for a few days. Florence Heywood, a woman he'd call his friend and one of the savviest people he knew, wanted to get married in the name of a legacy. He could hardly believe it when he picked up the phone and called her office.

"Everything there is, eh?"

It took several hours of negotiation, a prenuptial agreement, and the presence of a lawyer. Still, in the end, he said yes. 

For a while, the Shelby's referred to Florence in the form of the question, "isn't she that woman who manages Tommy's properties?" And Mrs. Heywood gave Florence an earful for getting engaged without ever bringing Tommy around for tea. But after a bumpy start, the rest went rather seamlessly.

One year later, Florence was sitting in her own lovely office in Arrow House with Charlie on her lap. She hadn't planned on reading to Charlie every night, but Charlie would sooner sneak out of bed in his pajamas and ambush her in her office than miss her reading to him. And he did. 

"Both parties should review the completed document carefully to ensure that all relevant deal points have been included," Florence read softly. Charlie was nearing a deep sleep, so Alice in Wonderland was sneakily replaced by the contracts she was in the middle of reviewing.  

When she heard the front door close, she stopped to check her watch. It was a quarter past 9 PM already. She followed the sound of Tommy's footsteps going up the stairs then quickly descending moments later. He was panicked, she could tell. If not from his steps, from the way he burst into her office. 

"Sh!" Florence placed a finger to her lips. Tommy let out a breath of relief as he ran a hand through his hair. Tommy came over and placed a hand on Charlie's head, then a kiss to his forehead. Florence was surprised she received one as well.

"He couldn't sleep?" Tommy asked quietly, eyes looking to the papers in her hand.

"He wouldn't allow it without a story. Tonight's is Once Upon a Time There Was A Walk-Up in Camden Town," she mused then pressed her own kiss to Charlie's head. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's fine."

"Is it fine, or is it nothing?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"It's," Tommy sighed once again, thinking about his day, his week even. The Russians, the Irish,  hell, Arthur, and fucking Linda. Christ. 

"Tommy," Florence's voice cut through the smoke and mud, bringing him back into the present. She stood smoothly, expertly shifting Charlie to her hip. "I know you're stressed. I just want to remind you that we promised to protect each other, right? Whatever it is, we figure it out together."

Tommy reached up and cupped her cheek.

"You're right, we promised. I promised." He leaned forward and kissed her softly. It took everything for Florence to remind herself that there was no place for weak knees when holding her child. "Let's put him to bed, and I'll tell you it all, Mrs. Shelby."

--

Tommy Tag List: @soleil-dor; @amysteryspot

[mycryptosuite]

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[whatdoesshedotothem]

Tuesday 25 June 1839

8 20/..

12 ¼

fine morning F65 ½° at 9 ¾ at which hour breakfast till 10 ½ - the carriage came almost immediately after – out at 11 – drove to Miss Lloyds’ dress-maker no. 56 Brook street liked her – she is to come this evening at 7 – dinner ordered at 6 – home again at 11 ½ - A- changed her dress – set her down at the baths 40 great marlbro’ street at 11 55/.. – then drove to Hammerslyes’ – 20 minutes there – gave him the thousand pounds Leeds branch bank of E- bill no. 1631 – to send us circulars £25 each to the amount – got our passports – but it would be requisite for me to go to the Russian embassy – asked if he would advise taking our carriage – yes! nobody ever against it but on account of expense – said I had a letter of credit as before from my county banker for two thousand pounds and H- to give us a letter of credit to this amount on St. Petersburg and Vienna – asked if he would be so good as give me a little book containing my account from the beginning (in 1826) – yes! very civil – asked if he knew Lord Pollington – no! but nothing ever said against him – did not think he ever gambled – explained   foolish   that I wished him to be proposed for Halifax    did the family know    no  from Hammersleys’ to Lady Gordon 34 Hertford street and with her till 1 20/.. having sat with her about an hour – saw both the girls – Sir Alexander Gordon with his £350 a year from the treasury going to marry Miss Austen with £50 a year daughter and only child to Mr. and Mrs. Austen the latter the translator from the German and the visitor at Devonshire house – the young lady and her mother both blues – the young lady’s character quite formed tho’ only 18 – her mother has kept her back but the girl has formed her own education and mind – Lady G- thinks I should like her very much – the match to take place by and by – the grandfather Austen a miller – like the father of Sir Robert Peel etc, the maker of his own fortune but very odd – said to have £7000 a year but never hints how he will dispose of it – has several children uncles and aunts to the intended lady A.G. – but her father a barrister or government commissioner of some sort (as the old man seems to have insinuated that he will make all his children equal) must come in for his share – a foolish match – but I made the best I could of it – he is near 30? for Cosmo is 27 or 28 and Georgina 21 – said I should be glad to find a letter from Lady G- to greet me at St. P- Georgina said I ought to write 1st – that is as may be – Lady G- spoke of Lord Pollington as the best of the Mexbro’ sons – he and the clergyman the only good ones – the other two roués – Lord M- rich. had immediately paid the debts of one the 2 roués (Charles I think Lady G- said) – she spoke of them all as odd Lady [G-] does not suit me naturally we joked  I rallied her about refusing me   she said I was off very luckily but our being together could not have answered she having her girls I said that was nothing   however I am at heart thankful it is as it is Lady S- de R- in fact prevented it  as lady G- did not snap me up at Cheltenham – Cosmo doing well – has now 1/3 of the business – It makes £7000 a year Mr. Osborne the principal – called to inquire if Lady S. de R- was returned – no! and if not back by post time her letters to be forwarded – desired the man not to send my note – then returned home for A- she was not quite ready but I did not wait long – we drove off to the British museum – could not be admitted without an order from one of the trustees – the porter on my getting out, civilly said he was ordered not to send people to Sir Henry Ellis (the head librarian) but perhaps if I called upon him he would allow me to enter – I did call – saw him for an instant – apologized – explained – shewed my passport instead of card – was admitted – all this had taken 5 minutes – had stopped at the gate at 2 10/.. – admitted at 2 ¼ and staid among the antiquities and lastly in the mummy room till 5 40/.. – large, interesting valuable collection of antiquities – lastly in the elgin room – the famous Rosetta inscription merely [of faced] – several specimens of Olla; but the pot itself sunk so that only the lid visible – In the mummery room right on entering a collection of bricks circles (a couple of inch diameter) covered with letters and characters (from Thebes) entitled ‘funeral cones’ but the body of the cone let into a frame that hid all but the flat surface on which it was probably set up – hid like the Olla – the shilling guide book we bought on entering makes mention of the god of Lamapsacus – good – I asked how the funeral cones were found – if there was one with every mummy – the man did not know – but they all came in a box together for he saw the boy unpacked them – asked if these guardians of the museum (for the man would not take the 2/6 I offered him) were well paid – no! the worst paid men under government particularly since 3 hours duty was added for nothing – now obliged to be in attendance from 9am to 7pm before this they used to go out to wait at dinners – now this was taken away by being kept so late at the museum – home at 6 – dinner about 6 10/.. – Miss Lloyd at 7 to 8 – A- low or

SH:7/ML/E/23/0070

 out of temper and would hardly making semblance of fatigue  pother so chose her gown for her and had Miss Lloyd to myself but she Miss Lloyd did not seem to understand me and after trying me on 2 or 3 of my dresses she made it appear I had neither dress nor pelerine in the present fashion and not advising glibly or takingly I left the silk and make of dress unchosen – she is to come on Friday morning to try on A-‘s dress and that will be time enough for me to determine – having told her this morning that she was recommended to me by a Cheshire person, she made it out – she asked me this evening, if it was Mrs. Lawton – yes! – but this discovery led to Miss Lloyds’ telling us she was established at Leamington with her sister there, but the place did not agree with her – and this her patterns of silk and talk about herself etc. made A- think her not at all 1st rate – A- is doubtless right – she recommended 11 Vere street for pelerines etc. and it seems she had her patterns from there – she recommended Madame Carson for bonnets – no tradespeople in the blue book - must look into the Directory for tradespeople – of Miss Lloyd Q.S. – after she went had A- and Grotza looking over pelerines etc. till 10 – then wrote all but the 2 first lines of today till now 11 ¼ pm very fine day –

[yasbxxgie]

Chris Rock wasn’t sure if he was hiding out or not.

On the Friday before Labor Day, he was speaking by phone from Yellow Springs, Ohio, the rustic village where he’d gone to spend time with Dave Chappelle, his friend and fellow comedian. Rock had previously traveled there in July to perform for a small, socially distanced audience as part of an outdoor comedy series Chappelle has been hosting. But Rock couldn’t decide if this return visit was meant to be clandestine. “I don’t know if it’s a secret,” he said quietly. “Maybe it is out here.” He couldn’t easily find the words to describe what he’d been doing just before this trip, either. “I mean, I guess I’ve been acting,” he said. After a short pause, he added, at a more assuredly Rock-like volume: “In a pandemic.”

In August, Rock had gone to Chicago to finish filming the fourth season of “Fargo,” the supremely arch FX crime drama, which makes its debut on Sept. 27. The show’s creator, Noah Hawley, had chosen him to star in its latest story line, set in the dapper gangland of 1950s Kansas City, Mo., and which casts Rock — the indefatigable standup and comic actor — as a mannered, methodical crime lord named Loy Cannon.

Maybe in a different universe where the show premiered in April as originally planned, the “Fargo” role has already put the 55-year-old Rock on a whole new career trajectory, opening the door to more serious and substantial roles and silencing the chorus of fans who still knowingly ask him for “one rib.” Maybe in this universe it still will.

But when the coronavirus pandemic struck, production on “Fargo” was halted in March, and Rock and his co-stars (including Jason Schwartzman, Ben Whishaw, Jessie Buckley and Andrew Bird) were all sent packing. Then at the end of the summer, Rock was summoned back to set, first to spend a week in quarantine and then to complete his acting work under new protocols and not a little bit of stress.

Other prominent projects of his have also been pushed back — he has a starring role in “Spiral,” a reboot of the “Saw” horror series, whose release was postponed a full year to May 2021. But Rock wasn’t mourning the delay of any professional gratification, having spent the spring and summer realigning his values for the new reality of pandemic life. “Maybe for like a day or two, I was like, ‘Oh, me,’” he said with an exaggerated whimper. “But honestly, it was more like, I’ve got to get to my kids and make sure my family is safe.”

In that time he has also heard countless Americans echoing the lesson he offered in the opening minutes of his 2018 standup special, “Tamborine,” where he spoke humorously but emphatically about the ongoing incidents of police violence against Black people. As he said in that routine, law enforcement was among the professions that simply cannot allow “a few bad apples”: “American Airlines can’t be like, ‘You know, most of our pilots like to land. We just got a few bad apples that like to crash in the mountains.’”

Now Rock was feeling mistrustful about the power of his comedy to do anything other than entertain, and unsure when he would get to perform it again for large audiences. And he was admittedly wary about this very interview, explaining with a chuckle that when he talks to the print media, he said, “You have to be comfortable with being boring. If you’re not comfortable with being boring, occasionally, you’re going to get in trouble.”

Not that Rock was ever boring in a wide-ranging conversation that encompassed “Fargo” and his broader career; his latest observations on a nation grappling simultaneously with a pandemic and a reinvigorated longing for racial equality; the resurfacing of a past video where Jimmy Fallon impersonated him in blackface; and of course, President Trump. (“No one has less compassion for humans than a landlord,” he said.) Even in the absence of an audience, Rock was candid, increasingly animated, uncommonly nimble and always looking for the laugh. Now, let the trouble begin.

These are edited excerpts from that conversation.

Was there a time when you thought this “Fargo” season was never going to get finished and that the series might not be seen for a long time, if ever?

I’ve had weird little things in my career — I was supposed to do this Bob Altman movie, “Hands on a Hard Body.” We were on the phone a lot, going over my character and I was so excited about doing the movie. And he died. I was supposed to be Jimmy Olsen in “Superman” with Nic Cage [“Superman Lives,” which was canceled in the late 1990s]. I remember going to Warner Bros., doing a costume fitting. Hanging out with Tim [Burton], who I idolized. Like, I’m hanging out with the guy that made “Pee-wee’s Big Adventure” and he’s showing me the models of the sets for “Superman.” So yeah, I definitely thought there’s a chance this might not happen. Fortunately for everyone involved, that was not the case.

How did Noah Hawley approach you about “Fargo”?

It was a weird day, because it was the day of the Emmy nominations and I didn’t get nominated for my last special [“Tamborine”]. I wouldn’t say I was down down, but I was a little disappointed, and then I got a call from my agent that Noah Hawley wanted to meet with me.

I get acting offers, but I get more hosting offers than anything. It is not uncommon for somebody to want me to do a high-priced wedding or bar mitzvah — a few years ago, I officiated the wedding of Daniel Ek, the owner of Spotify, and Bruno Mars was the wedding band. I think I sat next to [Mark] Zuckerberg at the reception. [Laughs.] I just assumed Noah had some crazy request like that. The only reason I went is because I love “Fargo.” And I get there and he offers me this part.

How did he explain the character of Loy Cannon to you?

He said 1950s gangster, so I know exactly who he’s talking about. My father was born in 1933. It’s not like “12 Years a Slave.” It’s literally a guy my grandfather’s age.

In the first episode, we see Loy pitching the idea for credit cards to an uninterested white banker. Is he a man who wants to be part of polite society, but it doesn’t want him?

I mean, I remember having a production overall deal at HBO and I came in with one person to sell a talk show with them. And they wouldn’t. That person’s name is Wendy Williams. [Laughs.] That’s $100 million that I never made. I was selling Leslie Jones to people, to agents and managers, for 10 years before she got on “S.N.L.” I’m very familiar with selling a no-brainer that people go, “Huh? Why that?”

Is he different from characters you’ve played before, because he’s older and we don’t know how much longer he’s going to be sitting on his throne?

Yeah, it’s one of those jobs: Because of how well it pays, you could be killed at any moment. It is the best part I’ve ever, ever, ever had. I hope it’s not the best part I ever have. Hey, Morgan Freeman’s done a hundred movies since “Shawshank Redemption.” But that’s the best part he ever had.

This role feels like it’s declaring itself as being outside the realm of what you’re best known for. Are you thinking differently about your acting career and where you hope to go with it?

My casting isn’t as weird as it seems if you really watch “Fargo.” Key and Peele are in the first season and Brad Garrett’s amazing in Season 2. Hey, it’s my turn, OK? I want to work on good stuff. Everything I’ve done hasn’t been great, but I was always striving for greatness. I loved “Marriage Story.” I’d kill for something like that. [Laughs.] You see what [Adam] Sandler did with “Uncut Gems.” But you’ve got to get the call and be ready when your number’s called.

Your 2014 film “Top Five,” which you wrote, directed and starred in, was very personal for you. Do you want to make more movies like that?

That’s a vein I intend to keep going in. When I made “Top Five,” I got divorced. And like most people that get divorced, I needed money. [Laughs.] I had to pay for stuff. I also went on tour. Because of Covid, it doesn’t look like there’s going to be any serious touring until 2022. So I’m a writer-director-actor right now. I’m working on some scripts in the “Top Five” vein and I honestly hope to direct, some time after the new year.

How much of “Fargo” did you have to finish during the pandemic?

It was like an episode and a half — the whole last episode, and some scenes from the one before it. It’s weird, quarantine when you’re acting. Acting can be isolating, anyway, and then you throw quarantine into that. You’re in solitary confinement with Netflix and Uber Eats. But let’s not get it too twisted. Somebody that’s in solitary is like, shut the [expletive] up. And then to actually act and get tested every other day, and wear a mask whenever you’re not saying your lines. And be cognizant of which zone you’re in. Because for Zone A, everyone’s been tested, but in Zone B, not everyone’s been tested. Zone C is just, everyone’s got Covid.

You performed at one of Chappelle’s live shows in July. What was that like for you?

When you’re in the clubs, you learn the rain crowd is the best crowd. Any time it’s raining, they really want to be there. The pandemic crowd is really good. “Dude, not only do we want to be here, there is nothing else to do. There’s nothing else to watch. Thank you.”

What did you talk about?

I talked about our political whatever. America. Part of the reason we’re in the predicament we’re in is, the president’s a landlord. No one has less compassion for humans than a landlord. [Laughs.] And we’re shocked he’s not engaged.

Did you ever see that movie “The Last Emperor,” where like a 5-year-old is the emperor of China? There’s a kid and he’s the king. So I’m like, it’s all the Democrats’ fault. Because you knew that the emperor was 5 years old. And when the emperor’s 5 years old, they only lead in theory. There’s usually an adult who’s like, “OK, this is what we’re really going to do.” And it was totally up to Pelosi and the Democrats. Their thing was, “We’re going to get him impeached,” which was never going to happen. You let the pandemic come in. Yes, we can blame Trump, but he’s really the 5-year-old.

Put it this way: Republicans tell outright lies. Democrats leave out key pieces of the truth that would lead to a more nuanced argument. In a sense, it’s all fake news.

Looking back at the beginning of “Tamborine,” the first several minutes is you talking about police violence and raising Black children in a racist country. Does it feel futile when you discuss these issues and it doesn’t change anything?

I remember when “Tamborine” dropped, I got a lot of flak over that cop thing. There was a lot of people trying to start a fire that never really picked up. It’s so weird that, two years later, it’s right on. I remember watching the news and Trump said “bad apples.” It was like, you did it! You did it!

But you told people two years ago —

I did. But so did Public Enemy. So did KRS-One. So did Marvin Gaye. There’s something about seeing things on camera. If O.J. kills Nicole on camera, the trial is two days. [Laughs.] It’s two days trying to figure out what kind of cell he deserves. It’s just Johnnie going, [Johnnie Cochran voice] “Well I think he needs at least a 12-by-8. Can he have ESPN?” That would be the whole trial.

But there was videotape of Rodney King’s beating, too. It doesn’t assure any particular outcome.

Yeah, man. Put it this way: This is the second great civil rights movement. And Dr. King and those guys were amazing. But they knew nothing about money. They didn’t ask for anything. At the end of the day, the things we got — it was just, hey, can you guys be humane? All we got was, like, humanity. If they had it to do all over again, in hindsight, there would be some attention paid to the financial disparity of all the years of — let’s not even count slavery, let’s just count Jim Crow.

You’re talking about a system that really didn’t end until about 1973. And I’m born in ’65 in South Carolina. I’m probably in a segregated wing of a hospital — there’s no way in the world I was next to a white baby. Even if the hospital wasn’t segregated, I was in a whole other room and that room didn’t have the good milk and the good sheets. My parents couldn’t own property in certain neighborhoods when I was born. There was an economic disparity there, and that was not addressed in the original civil rights movement. It was a huge oversight. So there’s no money and there’s no land. If you don’t have either one of those, you don’t really have much.

Did you want to participate in the recent protests?

Me and my kids, we looked from afar. But we’re in the middle of a pandemic, man, and I know people who have absolutely passed from it. I’m like, dude, this Covid thing is real.

You’ve been telling audiences for years that racism isn’t going away and remains a potent force in America. Do you feel like you’ve seen circumstances improve at all?

It’s real. It’s not going away. I said this before, but Obama becoming the president, it’s progress for white people. It’s not progress for Black people. It’s the Jackie Robinson thing. It’s written like he broke a barrier, as if there weren’t Black people that could play before him. And that’s how white people have learned about racism. They think, when these people work hard enough, they’ll be like Jackie. And the real narrative should be that these people, the Black people, are being abused by a group of people that are mentally handicapped. And we’re trying to get them past their mental handicaps to see that all people are equal.

Humanity isn’t progress — it’s only progress for the person that’s taking your humanity. If a woman’s in an abusive relationship and her husband stops beating her, you wouldn’t say she’s made progress, right? But that’s what we do with Black people. We’re constantly told that we’re making progress. The relationship we’re in — the arranged marriage that we’re in — it’s that we’re getting beat less.

Jimmy Fallon drew significant criticism this past spring for a 20-year-old clip of himself playing you in blackface on “Saturday Night Live.” How did you feel about that segment?

Hey, man, I’m friends with Jimmy. Jimmy’s a great guy. And he didn’t mean anything. A lot of people want to say intention doesn’t matter, but it does. And I don’t think Jimmy Fallon intended to hurt me. And he didn’t.

There’s been a wider push to expunge blackface from any movies or TV shows where it previously appeared. Have people taken it too far?

If I say they are, then I’m the worst guy in the world. There’s literally one answer that ends my whole career. Blackface ain’t cool, OK? That’s my quote. Blackface is bad. Who needs it? It’s so sad, we live in a world now where you have to say, I am so against cancer. “I just assumed you liked cancer.” No, no, no, I am so against it. You have to state so many obvious things you’re against.

Who do you hang with these days? Who’s your peer group?

I hang with Dave [Chappelle]. I hang with my kids. I hang with Nelson George. There’s not a lot of hanging in the Covid world. The better question is, who do you FaceTime with?

So who do you FaceTime with?

The other day I realized I’ve never met an elderly person that was cared for by their friends. Every elderly person I know that’s got any trouble is cared for by a spouse or a child. Sometimes they have like five kids but only one helps. Where are your friends? Your friends are probably not going to be there when it really counts. [Laughs.] When my dad was dying in the hospital, where were his friends? My grandmother, where were her friends? Don’t get me wrong, you get sick in your 20s, your friends will come to the hospital. It’s an adventure. [Laughs.] You get sick in your 60s, they farm it out. “You go Wednesday and I’ll go Sunday.”

Enjoy them while you have them. But if you think your friends are your long-term solution to loneliness, you’re an idiot.

[restaurantesenacapulco-blog]

Restaurants Kinds and Characteristics

Broadly speaking, restaurants can be segmented into a number of categories: 1-  Chain or independent (indy) and franchise restaurants. McDonald's, Union Square Cafe, or KFC 2-  Quick service (QSR), sandwich. Burger, chicken, and so on; convenience store, noodle, pizza 3-  Fast casual. Panera Bread, Atlanta Bread Company, Au Bon Pain, and so on 4-  Family. Bob Evans, Perkins, Friendly's, Steak 'n Shake, Waffle House 5-  Casual. Applebee's, Hard Rock Caf´e, Chili's, TGI Friday's 6-  Fine dining. Charlie Trotter's, Morton's The Steakhouse, Flemming's, The Palm, Four Seasons 7-  Other. Steakhouses, seafood, ethnic, dinner houses, celebrity, and so on. Of course, some restaurants fall into more than one category. For example, an Italian restaurant could be casual and ethnic. Leading restaurant concepts in terms of sales have been tracked for years by the magazine Restaurants and Institutions.

CHAIN OR INDEPENDENT The impression that a few huge quick-service chains completely dominate the restaurant business is misleading. Chain restaurants have some advantages and some disadvantages over independent restaurants. The advantages include:

1-  Recognition in the marketplace 2-  Greater advertising clout 3-  Sophisticated systems development 4-  Discounted purchasing

When franchising, various kinds of assistance are available. Independent restaurants are relatively easy to open. All you need is a few thousand dollars, a knowledge of restaurant operations, and a strong desire to succeed. The advantage for independent restaurateurs is that they can ''do their own thing'' in terms of concept development, menus, decor, and so on. Unless our habits and taste change drastically, there is plenty of room for independent restaurants in certain locations. Restaurants come and go. Some independent restaurants will grow into small chains, and larger companies will buy out small chains. Get More Info RESTAURANTES EN ACAPULCO

Once small chains display growth and popularity, they are likely to be bought out by a larger company or will be able to acquire financing for expansion. A temptation for the beginning restaurateur is to observe large restaurants in big cities and to believe that their success can be duplicated in secondary cities. Reading the restaurant reviews in New York City, Las Vegas, Los Angeles, Chicago, Washington, D.C., or San Francisco may give the impression that unusual restaurants can be replicated in Des Moines, Kansas City, or Main Town, USA. Because of demographics, these high-style or ethnic restaurants will not click in small cities and towns.

5-  Will go for training from the bottom up and cover all areas of the restaurant's operation Franchising involves the least financial risk in that the restaurant format, including building design, menu, and marketing plans, already have been tested in the marketplace. Franchise restaurants are less likely to go belly up than independent restaurants. The reason is that the concept is proven and the operating procedures are established with all (or most) of the kinks worked out. Training is provided, and marketing and management support are available. The increased likelihood of success does not come cheap, however.

There is a franchising fee, a royalty fee, advertising royalty, and requirements of substantial personal net worth. For those lacking substantial restaurant experience, franchising may be a way to get into the restaurant business-providing they are prepared to start at the bottom and take a crash training course. Restaurant franchisees are entrepreneurs who prefer to own, operate, develop, and extend an existing business concept through a form of contractual business arrangement called franchising.1 Several franchises have ended up with multiple stores and made the big time. Naturally, most aspiring restaurateurs want to do their own thing-they have a concept in mind and can't wait to go for it.

Here are samples of the costs involved in franchising:

1-  A Miami Subs traditional restaurant has a $30,000 fee, a royalty of 4.5 percent, and requires at least five years' experience as a multi-unit operator, a personal/business equity of $1 million, and a personal/business net worth of $5 million.

2-  Chili's requires a monthly fee based on the restaurant's sales performance (currently a service fee of 4 percent of monthly sales) plus the greater of (a) monthly base rent or (b) percentage rent that is at least 8.5 percent of monthly sales.

3-  McDonald's requires $200,000 of nonborrowed personal resources and an initial fee of $45,000, plus a monthly service fee based on the restaurant's sales performance (about 4 percent) and rent, which is a monthly base rent or a percentage of monthly sales. Equipment and preopening costs range from $461,000 to $788,500.

4-  Pizza Factory Express Units (200 to 999 square feet) require a $5,000 franchise fee, a royalty of 5 percent, and an advertising fee of 2 percent. Equipment costs range from $25,000 to $90,000, with miscellaneous costs of $3,200 to $9,000 and opening inventory of $6,000.

5-  Earl of Sandwich has options for one unit with a net worth requirement of $750,000 and liquidity of $300,000; for 5 units, a net worth of $1 million and liquidity of $500,000 is required; for 10 units, net worth of $2 million and liquidity of $800,000. The franchise fee is $25,000 per location, and the royalty is 6 percent.

What do you get for all this money? Franchisors will provide:

1-  Help with site selection and a review of any proposed sites 2-  Assistance with the design and building preparation 3-  Help with preparation for opening 4-  Training of managers and staff 5-  Planning and implementation of pre-opening marketing strategies 6-  Unit visits and ongoing operating advice

There are hundreds of restaurant franchise concepts, and they are not without risks. The restaurant owned or leased by a franchisee may fail even though it is part of a well-known chain that is highly successful. Franchisers also fail. A case in point is the highly touted Boston Market, which was based in Golden, Colorado. In 1993, when the company's stock was first offered to the public at $20 per share, it was eagerly bought, increasing the price to a high of $50 a share. In 1999, after the company declared bankruptcy, the share price sank to 75 cents. The contents of many of its stores were auctioned off at a fraction of their cost.7 Fortunes were made and lost. One group that did not lose was the investment bankers who put together and sold the stock offering and received a sizable fee for services.

The offering group also did well; they were able to sell their shares while the stocks were high. Quick-service food chains as well-known as Hardee's and Carl's Jr. have also gone through periods of red ink. Both companies, now under one owner called CKE, experienced periods as long as four years when real earnings, as a company, were negative. (Individual stores, company owned or franchised, however, may have done well during the down periods.) There is no assurance that a franchised chain will prosper.

At one time in the mid-1970s, A&W Restaurants, Inc., of Farmington Hills, Michigan, had 2,400 units. In 1995, the chain numbered a few more than 600. After a buyout that year, the chain expanded by 400 stores. Some of the expansions took place in nontraditional locations, such as kiosks, truck stops, colleges, and convenience stores, where the full-service restaurant experience is not important. A restaurant concept may do well in one region but not in another. The style of operation may be highly compatible with the personality of one operator and not another.

Most franchised operations call for a lot of hard work and long hours, which many people perceive as drudgery. If the franchisee lacks sufficient capital and leases a building or land, there is the risk of paying more for the lease than the business can support. Relations between franchisers and the franchisees are often strained, even in the largest companies. The goals of each usually differ; franchisers want maximum fees, while franchisees want maximum support in marketing and franchised service such as employee training. At times, franchise chains get involved in litigation with their franchisees.

As franchise companies have set up hundreds of franchises across America, some regions are saturated: More franchised units were built than the area can support. Current franchise holders complain that adding more franchises serves only to reduce sales of existing stores. Pizza Hut, for example, stopped selling franchises except to well-heeled buyers who can take on a number of units. Overseas markets constitute a large source of the income of several quick-service chains. As might be expected, McDonald's has been the leader in overseas expansions, with units in 119 countries.

With its roughly 30,000 restaurants serving some 50 million customers daily, about half of the company's profits come from outside the United States. A number of other quick-service chains also have large numbers of franchised units abroad.While the beginning restaurateur quite rightly concentrates on being successful here and now, many bright, ambitious, and energetic restaurateurs think of future possibilities abroad. Once a concept is established, the entrepreneur may sell out to a franchiser or, with a lot of guidance, take the format overseas via the franchise. (It is folly to build or buy in a foreign country without a partner who is financially secure and well versed in the local laws and culture.).

The McDonald's success story in the United States and abroad illustrates the importance of adaptability to local conditions. The company opens units in unlikely locations and closes those that do not do well. Abroad, menus are tailored to fit local customs. In the Indonesia crisis, for example, french fries that had to be imported were taken off the menu, and rice was substituted. Reading the life stories of big franchise winners may suggest that once a franchise is well established, the way is clear sailing. Thomas Monaghan, founder of Domino Pizza, tells a different story. At one time, the chain had accumulated a debt of $500 million. Monaghan, a devout Catholic, said that he changed his life by renouncing his greatest sin, pride, and rededicating his life to ''God, family, and pizza.''

A meeting with Pope John Paul II had changed his life and his feeling about good and evil as ''personal and abiding.'' Fortunately, in Mr. Monaghan's case, the rededication worked well. There are 7,096 Domino Pizza outlets worldwide, with sales of about $3.78 billion a year. Monaghan sold most of his interest in the company for a reported $1 billion and announced that he would use his fortune to further Catholic church causes. In the recent past, most food-service millionaires have been franchisers, yet a large number of would-be restaurateurs, especially those enrolled in university degree courses in hotel and restaurant management, are not very excited about being a quick-service franchisee.

They prefer owning or managing a full-service restaurant. Prospective franchisees should review their food experience and their access to money and decide which franchise would be appropriate for them. If they have little or no food experience, they can consider starting their restaurant career with a less expensive franchise, one that provides start-up training. For those with some experience who want a proven concept, the Friendly's chain, which began franchising in 1999, may be a good choice. The chain has more than 700 units. The restaurants are considered family dining and feature ice cream specialties, sandwiches, soups, and quickservice meals.

Let's emphasize this point again: Work in a restaurant you enjoy and perhaps would like to emulate in your own restaurant. If you have enough experience and money, you can strike out on your own. Better yet, work in a successful restaurant where a partnership or proprietorship might be possible or where the owner is thinking about retiring and, for tax or other reasons, may be willing to take payments over time. Franchisees are, in effect, entrepreneurs, many of whom create chains within chains.

McDonald's had the highest system-wide sales of a quick-service chain, followed by Burger King. Wendy's, Taco Bell, Pizza Hut, and KFC came next. Subway, as one among hundreds of franchisers, gained total sales of $3.9 billion. There is no doubt that 10 years from now, a listing of the companies with the highest sales will be different. Some of the current leaders will experience sales declines, and some will merge with or be bought out by other companies-some of which may be financial giants not previously engaged in the restaurant business.

[noticias247]

Feds target Venezuelan brothers in new $4.5 billion laundering probe — in biggest case yet

The Justice Department is building a new money-laundering case against two politically connected Venezuelan bankers with financial and real estate investments in South Florida who are suspected of stealing more than $4.5 billion from Venezuela’s socialist government, the Miami Herald has learned.

The investigation is the third massive U.S. money-laundering case targeting members of Venezuela’s young business elites who allegedly paid millions in bribes to government officials for access to billions in oil income, according to sources familiar with the probe. The allegedly illicit funds were then secreted away to Swiss bank accounts before being moved again into the United States.

In the latest case — the biggest of the three so far — federal prosecutors are zeroing in on Venezuelan bankers Luis and Ignacio Oberto. The brothers are suspected of making fortunes by using shell companies to provide “sham” loans to Venezuela’s state-owned oil company, which in turn sent billions in inflated payments to their Swiss bank accounts with the help of a rogue banker, according to sources.

Since last year, federal prosecutors have reached out to their Swiss counterparts for assistance because the embezzled Venezuelan funds were transferred to numerous Swiss banks holding dozens of accounts allegedly linked to the Oberto brothers, the sources told the Herald. The brothers’ principal Swiss banker was Charles Henry De Beaumont, with CBH Compagnie Bancaire Helvetique SA in Geneva, where the Obertos kept most of their accounts.

The Oberto brothers, who have not been charged in the U.S. investigation, are represented by two of the most prominent criminal defense attorneys in South Florida. In a joint statement, Ed Shohat, representing Luis Oberto Jr., and David O. Markus, representing Ignacio Oberto, said their clients have done nothing wrong. “Luis and Ignacio Oberto are both highly respected businessmen who have never been accused in any country of any crime.,” their lawyers said. “And for good reason — they are honorable, ethical, and transparent. They have committed no crime. Any suggestion to the contrary will be met with a full-court-press defense.”

On Friday, a spokesman for CBH Compagnie Bancaire Helvetique, said De Beaumont resigned from the private wealth management bank in 2012, without providing an explanation. Asked about De Beaumont’s key role in allegedly assisting the Oberto brothers, the bank said in a statement: “Although CBH cannot comment on the existence or non-existence of any clients, CBH has never engaged in or facilitated money laundering or unlawful banking transactions, and neither CBH nor its employees have ever been accused of any wrongdoing.”

De Beaumont, 43, could not be reached for comment for this story. The U.S. Attorney’s Office and Homeland Security Investigations in Miami declined to comment.

Of the two Oberto brothers, Luis, who is older, has the higher profile. Luis Oberto Jr. is considered a Venezuelan wheeler-dealer, traveling regularly between South America, the United States and Europe. At 43, he has established a formidable reputation in banking and securities trading, including lucrative loan and bond deals with the Venezuelan government. His wife, Maria Graciela Gill, is the daughter of one of Venezuela’s major bankers. Oberto Jr. owns luxury high-rise apartments on Manhattan’s East Side and at a wellness resort in Miami Beach.

Oberto Jr. also has a passion for art collecting, like his father, Luis Oberto Sr, a banker himself who donated a collection of 1960s-era Venezuelan artworks, posters and photographs to the Museum of Modern Art Library in New York. “I think a collector would like to have inexhaustible resources to be able to have everything he wants,” Oberto Jr. once said.

But all is not perfect in the rarefied world of Oberto Jr. and his younger brother, Ignacio, 36, who also owns a condo at the Carillon Miami Wellness Resort in Miami Beach. Both brothers have been under investigation over the past two years by federal authorities. Homeland Security investigators are gathering troves of emails, bank records and cooperating witness statements showing the Obertos allegedly embezzled billions from Venezuela’s government by paying bribes to officials and then moving the funds to Europe and eventually to the United States, according to sources familiar with the investigation.

Justice Department prosecutors have asked Swiss authorities to obtain bank records reflecting transfers of illicit funds from the Venezuelan national oil company’s accounts with Banco Espirito Santo to the Oberto brothers’ accounts at CBH Compagnie Bancaire Helvetique and several other Swiss banks.

The crux of the federal probe is that the Oberto brothers operated two main shell companies, Violet Advisors SA and Welka Holdings Limited, that allegedly made sham loans to Venezuela’s state-owned oil company, PDVSA, in 2012. In exchange for bribes, PDVSA officials approved the brothers’ loan contracts and then processed the loan payments through the government’s favorable bolivar-dollar exchange system to boost their profits exponentially, according to sources familiar with the probe.

PDVSA officials wired the loan payments through Banco Espirito Santo to the brothers’ various Swiss accounts between 2012 and 2014, sources familiar with the U.S. investigation said. (Espirito Santo, Portugal’s biggest bank, collapsed in 2014 amid allegations of fraud and money laundering. Espirito Santo operated a branch in downtown Miami that is now known as Brickell Bank.)

The Oberto brothers’ main banker was CBH’s De Beaumont, though they also had accounts in other shell companies at other Swiss banks that received tainted Venezuelan funds, according to sources. De Beaumont also assisted the Oberto brothers in moving the illicit PDVSA funds from Switzerland to banks in the United States, including Miami, as well as to offshore accounts in the Caribbean. Among the brothers’ biggest transfers was $367 million from their CBH account to an offshore company called Bagnet Capital Ltd., sources said. The alleged purpose of the wire transfers was not only to enrich the Oberto brothers but also to pay kickbacks to Venezuela government officials who initially approved the brothers’ loans and currency-exchange schemes, according to sources.

Other unnamed conspirators in Venezuela, Europe and the United States were also paid as part of the brothers’ alleged bribery, embezzlement and money laundering schemes, sources said. In total, billions of PDVSA dollars were transferred from Venezuela to Switzerland and then with De Beaumont’s assistance to the United States, including millions into the Oberto brothers’ personal bank accounts and real estate investments in Miami and New York, sources said.

In a statement, CBH Compagnie Bancaire Helvetique said “strict Swiss laws prohibit” the private banker from confirming whether the Oberto brothers are clients. But the bank said it “has always responded promptly and thoroughly to all international assistance requests relating to clients” and has “always maintained rigorous internal anti-money laundering safeguards,” according to the statement issued by spokesman Christoper Robinson.

Earlier this year, Swiss news media reported that the Justice Department sent a request for legal assistance in March 2018 to Switzerland “in connection with the PDVSA scandal.” The Swiss Federal Supreme Court revealed in May of this year that the U.S. investigation covered the misappropriation of more than $4.5 billion, “mainly through accounts opened in Switzerland.”

The Justice Department memo only identified De Beaumont by name and referenced “other conspirators,” though the Oberto brothers were not mentioned. The Herald has learned from sources familiar with the U.S. investigation that both Luis and Ignacio Oberto are among De Beaumont’s alleged conspirators.

“According to information and documents provided by several cooperating conspirators, De Beaumont, a Swiss banker with Compagnie Bancaire Helvetique (CBH), knowingly conspired with the other conspirators to defraud CBH and launder the proceeds of the fraud and embezzlement scheme through CBH and through other means, including banks and real estate in Miami, Florida,” according to the March 13, 2018 Justice Department memo to the Central Authority of Switzerland.

“More specifically, De Beaumont arranged for several shell companies to be created to receive the embezzled U.S. dollars from PDVSA accounts into CBH accounts arranged for by De Beaumont,” the Justice Department memo says. “De Beaumont used numerous shell companies so as to not attract negative attention by way of any single company receiving too much money. The total amount in U.S. dollars embezzled through the scheme is approximately $4.5 billion, with the majority of that amount routed through CBH.”

As a Swiss banker, De Beaumont enjoyed the reputation of attracting wealthy Venezuelans like the Oberto brothers, who deposited their millions at CBH Compagnie Bancaire Helvetique in Geneva. It was a highly lucrative business for De Beaumont, who charged a .75 percent fee for each wire transfer in and out of the bank. The Swiss banker made about $22 million in fees from receiving and transferring the PDVSA funds for the Obertos and others, according to the Justice Department memo.

In early 2014, the Swiss banker used $4.6 million of those fees to buy a condominium at the exclusive Continuum high-rise on the southern tip of Miami Beach and another $1.3 million to buy real estate in the Dominican Republic.

A former Venezuelan prosecutor told Bloomberg in a recent article that politically connected Venezuelan business people who made millions doing deals with the socialist regimes of the late President Hugo Chavez and his successor, Nicolas Maduro, were steady customers at CBH.

“This is the go-to bank for Venezuelans to hide money,” said Zair Mundaray, who handled financial crimes cases for the Venezuelan attorney general’s office until mid-2017 and now lives in Colombia. “They all banked at CBH.” Swiss prosecutors are also conducting a parallel investigation, according to sources familiar with the mutual assistance between Switzerland and the United States.

The Oberto brothers are only the latest members of Venezuela’s young elites — known as “boliburgueses” — who have done business deals with one another and the Venezuelan government and who are now in the cross-hairs of U.S. prosecutors in Miami and Washington, D.C.

Former Venezuelan national treasurer Alejandro Andrade, TV network mogul Raul Gorrin and wealthy businessman Francisco Convit Guruceaga are among those close to Chavez and Maduro. Andrade, Gorrin and Convit are the most prominent of a dozen defendants who have been charged in two Venezuelan money laundering cases in South Florida, totaling more than $1 billion each. The cases involved bond, loan and currency-exchange schemes approved by Venezuelan officials, including Andrade and PDVSA officials. More than half of the defendants are still at large.

So far, the biggest Venezuelan defendant in U.S. custody is Andrade, who served as national treasurer from 2007 to early 2011. Soon after his resignation, Andrade moved to an equestrian farm he bought in the super-rich community of Wellington in Palm Beach Country.

Andrade lived off $80 million in funds stolen from Venezuela’s national treasury that he kept in his Swiss bank account at CBH, according to a statement filed with his plea agreement. He used some of that money to buy private planes and take care of his show horses. In late 2017, Andrade pleaded guilty to money laundering while he cooperated with U.S. authorities. He was sentenced to 10 years in prison.

Since 2010, the international money-laundering schemes led by Andrade, Gorrin and the others have caused extreme economic hardship for everyday Venezuelans, say federal authorities, who have imposed sanctions on the state-owned oil company, PDVSA. Oil rich and once wealthy, Venezuela has deteriorated into an impoverished country suffering from hyperinflation as well as food and medicine shortages. More than four million people have fled the country in recent years, according to the United Nations.

Tobias Roche, a former federal agent who for 30 years worked with U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement and the U.S. Marshals Service, said the rampant Venezuelan corruption now under investigation has contributed significantly to Venezuela’s economic dramatic downfall. “The impact of these actions are horrible because right now the country is devastated with high crime and poverty,” Roche said. “Some of those responsible are living here [in Miami and New York] like kings with money that not only they did not earn legitimately but that was obtained in a way that condemned millions to the utmost poverty.”.

“The riches they enjoy were stolen, either from PDVSA or other government entities, through programs that in some cases were specifically designed to funnel money out,” said Roche, who co-founded the U.S. Department of Homeland Security’s Foreign Corruption Investigations Group.

Another person familiar with the U.S. probes of Venezuelan kleptocracy agreed. “These are huge fortunes,” said the investigator. “To put it all in perspective, you have to ask yourself, how large is Bill Gates’ fortune or the fortune of Steve Jobs’ family? These are people who worked a lifetime to build their empires, and these people [in Venezuela] now rival them through graft, bankrupting a whole country and creating a human crisis in the process.”