Dinner Conversation, Part 1

It wasn't the trendiest or highest-profile eatery in Los Angeles, but that was most of the point. Wesley had chosen the restaurant more for the ability to hold a meeting where topics that no one outside of their peculiar community would be prepared to overhear. That, and the fact that Dominick's quietly boasted quite a fine wine list. Wesley nodded to Bernard, the maitre d' and slipped the older man the promised hundred dollar note. Bernard was perhaps in his late sixties, and had no doubt stood his station since Dominick's played host to Los Angeles underworld luminaries of a much more organised crime sense of the world. Certainly the private back dining room into which Bernard ushered Wesley was a holdover from those days.

The lighting was low, but sufficient to keep the atmosphere from entering gloom. Wesley ran his hand over the rich woods and leather backs of the chairs and table and wondered what nefarious men and privacy-seeking Hollywood golden age celebrities had taken refuge in this room. He hoped whatever ghosts might still linger in this space would look kindly on his intentions. Taking a seat with an unobstructed view of the door, Wesley ordered a scotch, neat, and awaited the first of his invited soon-to-be teammates.

( The players assemble at one table, new faces meet old, Wesley makes his offer and reactions are mixed. )