Finnley Grosvenor's suite, Signature

It was six-thirty in the evening, and the sun was setting through the window of Finn's suite. He was sprawled across his large bed with the goose-down pillows and the large, thick green throw over the cream duvet cover. He was lying on his back with his head lolling over the side of the bed and his feet dangling off the other side. His arms were doing something entirely different, almost as though they were unattached from the rest of his body and had a mind of their own.

It was ridiculously hot that evening, and Finn had made his way as quickly as he could to his room, stripped off his suit jacket from his upper torso, loosened his tie and the top button of his white shirt, and landed on his bed in what was now this awkward position. It had been a long and stressful day - six of his dancers had come down with something suspcious and were now being checked over at St. Mungo's. The rest of the dancers [all fourteen of them] were doing the best they possibly could with only one hour left until the show, and Finn was confident it would still be a success. The dance coach was being an insufferable whining wart on Finn's arse cheek, but she was the least of his worries. He had just sent an owl to St. Mungo's requesting regular updates on the dancers' conditions, and was now waiting for the first of those updates, which he assumed would arrive soon due to the facilities at the hospital. They were notmally very prompt at replying to owl-mail.

Finn heaved a deep sigh and wiped a bead of sweat that was trickling down the contours of his nose. He was enjoying the peace and quiet that was in his sound-proofed room, somewhere he didn't get to enjoy as much as he would have liked.

The time was approaching half after six o'clock. It wasn't dark quite yet, and Altair was making an oddly unsafe decision. His wand was at the tip of another wizard's nose, as the wizard in question was cowering against a building's wall. "Please, sir, I beg of you! Why are you doing this? This is monstrous, treason to the good wizarding people!" Altair quickly clamped the man's mouth with his gloved hand. "Shh, shh, shh. Now, now, monstrous? That's a tad harsh, love." Oh, that word. How he loathed it.

Footsteps were nearing the alley and Altair started sweating frantically. Pressing his wand against the other's forehead, he spoke quickly, "Forget my face. Obliviate!" As the other wizard dropped to the ground. Altair tossed an empty firewhiskey bottle beside him, as if to show he had been drinking too much. As fast as he'd cast the spell, he was already around the corner, close to his destination.

Altair entered the club with grace. It had just been yesterday he'd snapped and become a new person. Darker, scarier, a man his mother wouldn't recognize if she could see him now. Wearing a knee length, thin black coat, a white, button-down shirt with a black bowtie, and white pants with black belt, Altair was the look of a nightclub regular, which indeed he was. His hair was slicked into a 50's-esque look, and he was clean shaven since the previous night. His hands were covered with black gloves and he wore zipped-up black boots.

Striding his way through the club, he finally reached the door he had meant to arrive at precisely seven minutes ago. "My time's a bit shoddy, but I'm sure the master of time himself won't care if I'm late." He proceeded to knock on the door, hoping it's owner would soon answer. Finnley was, afterall, a pleasure to see in his natural element.

Finn heard a knock at the door and his brow wrinkled in displeasure at being disturbed during his 'alone time'. He sighed as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and allowed his upper body be jerked so that he was in an upright position, before manouevring slowly across the room to the large dark wood door that separated him from his world.

He opened the door and stared groggily at the person whose knock had interrupted his dreaming. It was a familiar face. Finn looked down at his watch. Oh crap! It was after 6.30, and he had completely forgotten he and Altair were meeting for a drink. "Shit...sorry." He ran a hand through his unkempt hair in a mediocre attempt to tame it. He could hear the muted beat of music eminating from downstairs in the bar. "Have you been waiting long?" He asked holding his bedroom door open for Altair to make his way in. He motioned to the drinks cabinet beside the window - not that Altair really needed to be given directions to the alcohol.

Finn made his way over to his wardrobe and decided a change of outfit was in order. His shirt was sweaty and Finn was overly aware that it smelled a little of body odour. He had heard that BO was a natural pheromone for attracting women, but he wasn't all that interested in trying it out for fear of being told he was a complete scruffy hobo who didn't wash. Finn flicked through dozens of shirts in various different colours, and opted for a shirt in pale lilac. He pulled unbuttoneda couple more of the buttons on his white shirt and pulled it over his head. "So what have you been up to recently? Haven't spoken to you since you were last in here." he stated loudly as he struggled to get the shirt over his head. Eventually the item of clothing unstuck itself from his arms, and he threw it on the bed. He picked up the lilac shirt as quickly as he could and tossed it over his head. He wouldn't mind having his body on display so much, had he a toned torso like some men he knew [namely Arius], but being in the business he was in, he was over-fed, over-drank and under-exercised. Thus leaving him feeling inadequate in the body department.

Finn buttoned up the shirt, but left the top button undone. He opened a drawer and pulled out a purple tie which went very well with his shirt, and slung it around his neck, fastening it loosely.

The door was opened to reveal a slightly unkempt Finn, yet still refined and sexy as ever. At least to Altair, he was. But his mind couldn't be sidetracked with less-than-acceptable thoughts of any man now, for his nature couldn't allow it. Not for what he planned on becoming, on doing as the weeks would unfold. Altair smiled at his friend, and walked into the room, straight to the alcohol cabinet Finn was so graciously offering.

He pulled out a few light liquors and some mixing beverages and started making his preferred drink. It was a highly alcoholic concoction, and generally, he was the only he knew who could handle the drink, and actually have a high tolerance for it as well. "So, Finnley, you're looking good." He gave a small laugh, and snuck a peek at Finn changing shirts. The owner of the club thought himself out of shape, but Altair could only see a man worth loving, if love were even possible anymore.

"Anyways, I've been. . . let's just say I'm a new man, and toast to it." He held up his glass and smiled. Taking in a drink of his mixer, he let out a ripe sigh and let the burn flow down his throat. He'd almost forgotten how good that feeling was. "How are you, my friend? I seem to have interrupted you in a. . . natural element?" He paused and presented it as a question. "Never the less, I'm glad I'm getting to see you once again, and hopefully more often now that I've returned to our humble wizarding world."

"Pour me a whisky, will you?" Finn called from the other side of the room as he hunted around for a polished pair of shoes. "The Lagavulin would be great right now." He fished a pair of shoes that looked like they'd been polished fairly recently, and sat on the edge of the bed to pull them on. Altair's remark that Finn looked good went straight over the young man's head as he fumbled with the laces.

"Anyways, I've been. . ."

Altair paused and looked momentarily distracted. Finn let the laces drop untied from his hands and looked up.

"let's just say I'm a new man, and toast to it."

Altair held up his drink into a toast, and took a deep drink of his concoction that looked an odd colour. "A new man, eh?" Finn continued with his left shoe. Finn was about to make him elaborate on his last comment, but Altair beat him to the chase, changing the subject to Finn himself. He scratched behind his right ear and puffed his cheeks out, exhaling all the air from his lungs in the process. "Life is passing me by in a whirl-wind." He stated plainly. "I need a break. I love my job, I love the club. But I'm finding no time for myself. I need to find someone who I can trust to run this place for a week, maybe two. Someone who has experience of this sort of thing." He paused. "I need a holiday." He said grimly.

Calling over from his bed, Finn requested whiskey. Altair pulled the Lagavulin out of the cabinet, and opened the top. Sniffing it quickly, Altair clenched back his nose, disgusted. Well, Finn was, afterall, a very masculine man, so indeed, a masculine drink would be his choice. Grimacing as the brown liquid poured into a glass, Altair turned around as Finn tied his laces. Finally, the drink was poured and he brought it over to Finn, handing it to him.

"I need a break. I love my job, I love the club. But I'm finding no time for myself. I need to find someone who I can trust to run this place for a week, maybe two. Someone who has experience of this sort of thing."

A lightbulb went off in Altair's head. He looked Finn over and gave him a sly smile, sliding one eyebrow up while the other stayed in place. "You know, I was going to ask if I could borrow to guest suite indefinitely for the time being. The club only runs at night, correct? I mean, I could work at the Ferris's Clinic during the day hours, and return here for the night? I don't mind the late hours. I mean, I've gone without sleep the past week and I'm just fine."

He let the offer stand. He needed the suite, first off, because he was about to burn his apartment, and possibly the rest of the apartment building if Irma couldn't control the flames before the rest of the place caught. It was going to be his first true step in becoming a criminal. He would burn the place, act like someone else was after him, and then insist he'd just live at his home in Ireland.

Borrow a guest suite indefinitely? Finn eyed Altair as he passed over the tumbler with the whisky in. "Really?" he asked, a confused look on his face. He was desperate to know why on earth Altair would want a guest suite indefinitely, but knew better than to ask. It would come out in time, he was sure. "As long as there's nothing dodgy going on." Finn laughed and took a sip of the whisky.

"But have you managed a club before? I mean...I'm not suggesting that you couldn't do it, but working at the clinic during the day, then moonlighting here?" He shook his head. "That sounds like too much, even for you." Finn knew that Altair was pretty work-focussed and enjoyed a challenge, but even this man had his limits, and Finn was sure his limits would be stretched if he was serious about doing this.

"I've gone without sleep the past week and I'm just fine."

Finn paused and furrowed his brow with concern. "Then you should seriously consider going for a long sleep. A week without sleep? Man, that's just plain idiotic." Finn didn't get much sleep in his line of work, and he knew how crappy he felt when he'd only had a few hours, letalone not getting any at all for seven days. This comment made the cogs in Finn's head begin to turn. "What's been going on?" He'd broken his own rule and asked, not sure if he really wanted to know the answer.