~CHAPTER SEVEN~

TW: mentions of Roofies

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Mr. Mann joined King Richie in his library, one that appeared to hold an uncountable amount of books. The men walked under the loft and sat in two tall leggy chairs. Ones that already faced each other as if they had been talking long before the men had come in.

King Richie sat in his chair, Mr. Mann parodied. He gracelessly sat in his own cumbersome chair. The fireplace next to them sat empty and scoured clean. In this weather, there was no benefit to lighting one.

As per King Richie’s almost missed nuance, Mr. Mann got up to pour them each a glass of bourbon. King Richie studied and sniffed his glass, before taking an indulgent sip. Mr. Mann just held his own.

“Last night at the party, I was given a message that you had left early with my dear friend Lady Moustache…” King Richie leaned forward to make his point more clear.

“We had made a deal, Mr. L’Amour, and I’m a reasonable man. I want you to tell me what really happened last night.”

Mr. Mann was horrified. (how could someone say something so calmly, but still sound terribly threatening)

Mr. Mann was right, it did sound terribly bad on paper. He thought it would be best to leave a message for King Richie, rather than him finding out much later. He composed himself, and told King Richie the truth.



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Principality of Monaco

August 3rd, 1924

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“I suppose Mr. Mann will do.” Mr. L’Amour started as he roused the delicate hand with his own. He leaned down, his eyes searched his rosy face.

“The pleasure is mine, Lady Moustache.” Mr. L’Amour leaned down to kiss Lady Moustache’s slim and slack hand.

(was it a kiss he was looking for) Mr. Mann asked himself as his lips brushed on him. He could only assume that was expected… Why else would he reach his hand out so limp?

Lady Moustache’s face appeared to have more blush on it as Mr. Mann gradually stood tall. Lady Moustache smiled, so he smiled back.
The women whisked him away once more, and King Richie placed a hand on Mr. Mann’s shoulder to pull his attention away and back to him.

“Your personal effects are waiting in the Green Room for you, Mr. Mann…” King Richie smiled. “This is going to be a long night, I wish you the best.”

King Richie left Mr. Mann, and Mr. Mann was left to wrack his brain trying to remember where exactly the Green Room was.

He walked down a familiar yet brand new corridor, he felt like he was going in circles.

(all these halls look the same) He thought with a huff.

He walked past an open glass door, the smell of Marlboro cigarettes, wafted with the light breeze. Mr. Mann recognized the smell of this brand popular amongst women. His mother smoked Marlboros.

He stopped in front of the door, and watched a man in a white evening suit enjoy the view of the garden painted with a deep red by the setting sun.

“Would you like a smoke? Or are you just going to stand there?” The man urged, not turning around. He blew the smoke out and his head was engulfed by a big grey waft. It swirled and gnarled in the wind.

“Oh, no thank you.” Mr. Mann replied. He was about to walk away.

“Do be careful…” The posh man made him stop in his tracks.

“Hmm?”

“My brother… he isn’t the type of person to make lasting ‘friendships’.” The man...