#keeping the wife question vague because I dunno if any of his ship partners would want to be part of this plot

[ahelluvahigh]

Oof.

A smile cracks through his generally stoic expression as he's pulled into a hug by a man at least twice his width and a good few heads taller than him. A smile that grows a little bit at the slug to his arm. So pops' is in a good mood. Good to know. His shoulders relax the slightest bit at that realization, and he's happy to take the two glasses before having a seat.

"Someone pushes, I shoot 'em. Or stab 'em. Don't get a lot of repeat offenders." Most within Pentagram City recognized Arackniss by now. He came across as unapproachable at best and murderous at worst. Typically, the only ones to get close to him were those thinking he was too small and too frail looking to be as dangerous as others claimed, so they came to pick a fight.

... Those fights didn't last long.

He takes a sip from the first wine glass as his father goes on. Wife? Uh... "Nah, no ball 'n chain yet. I'll tell ya before I buy a ring." He's not sure if his old man is joking about getting grandkids, or if he's heard the rumors about hellborns and fallen angels getting pregnant with sinners' children. Eh. He'll keep it vague for now either way.

"Ain't too bad. Been doin' hits since my last bodyguardin' gig fell apart. Money's betta', but it ain't as consistent." On retainer hitmen aren't generally a thing. Usually you get paid for one kill and then you're off to find someone else willing to fork over cash for you to put a bullet in someone's brain. Keeping someone alive doesn't pay as well, but it is a full time job down here.

"What about'chu? Sounds like you've been havin' a good time."

" Lu me' figghiu unicu! E' tantu bellu viditi! Veni ccà!"

He'd open the door and usher his son in, wrapping his massive arms around the young man, a kiss to each of the black spider's cheeks followed by a firm but affectionate slug on the shoulder. Arackniss was small but he was efficient, a perfect enforcer, and would make a perfect don one day.

Unlike most of the various kingpins in Hell or on Earth even Henroin didn't keep a man at his table at all times, while most delegated the role of bodyguard to a trusted friend he neglected the office entirely. He didn't need protection, and he was perfectly willing to get his own hands dirty to defend himself at anytime.

Gripping glasses in each palm he'd offer two to his favorite son, keeping the others for himself as he'd take his seat.

" Good to see you in one piece, I knew those peacock cross dressers down in Pride couldn't contain you, boy. I am sure you got your pounds of flesh on the street! HA!"

Taking a sip of one of the glasses, he'd grin as he'd place it back on the desk.

" Course, you could always stop by more often. It does not have to be business we always talk about you know. You find a wife yet? We need more men in the family, and your sister wherever she is won't be popping any out soon. Nah, but seriously. How ya been?"