2020-01-20 - Men of Repute

The phone rings bright and early, or at least, bright and early for someone whose workday crosses midnight more often than it crosses noon. It's about 11:30 am, and the voice that comes across the line when it's answered is cheerful and friendly, and also reasonably familiar. "Mr. Thorne! Rhys Evans. How's the new year treating you so far?"

Thorne's day tends to start bright and early as well. In fact, when he's alerted to Rhys' call, he's on the phone with one of his various business associates. Seated in the comfort of his upscale home office, he sees a notification pop up on his phone while he's mid-typing on his laptop. As he's been on this call for a little over half-an-hour as it were and his point was already made, it's not difficult for him to finish up with one before taking the other. "That's what I wanted to hear, Mr. Ruperts. I'll send over the documentation and once you've looked it over, we can discuss it. Good? Great, hope to hear from you soon."

Once the first call is dropped, he accesses the second right before it goes to voice mail. "Mr. Evans, what a surprise to hear from you." There's curiosity that may be gauged from his tone, knowing full well who Rhys works for. "You've caught me between calls, but I'm doing fairly well. Just got over," Hypothermia.. "A cold actually. How may I help you today?"

"Glad to hear you're better," and Rhys sounds like he might mean that, "...especially since it means you're probably not contagious." The grin's audible in the tone, there. He's seated in the reasonable-comfort of his less-upscale office-office, and since he's alone with the door closed, he's got his feet up on the desk and a completely unergonomic but comfortable chair-sprawl going on, one hand idly on the keys and the other holding the phone. Could do the hands-free thing, isn't. "How's your agenda looking? Time for coffee, maybe a sandwich? There's some business matters we should discuss when you're free."

An amused smile spreads over Byron's lips when the mention of him no longer being contagious is uttered. "Since you put it that way..." This is followed by light laughter. Light tapping can be heard as he's working on a document to send out to this Ruperts, but he continues his current conversation all the same. This mention of business, of course, piques his interest and clearly he already has an idea of where this is going. "I've got some time right now actually." Dark eyes look at the time displayed at the corner of his laptop screen, "A couple of hours. Possibly three." He pulls up his calendar to make sure, though he has his schedule memorized. "Not sure if you're up for the drive over to the Apartments, but I make a mean espresso if you care to make the trip."

Rhys knows exactly what his schedule is too -- it'd be amateur hour, calling to meet without knowing that, after all -- but he glances at the calendar up on his screen all the same, with a nod that can't be heard and a light, "You know, that's always been my complaint about Starbucks: the espresso's far too kind. If I wanted to be tucked gently into bed with a good book, I'd order herbal tea," that can. "Fifteen-twenty minutes work for you? A couple hours ought to do us fine." A bit of faint tapping from his end as well, perhaps typing a note or finishing up an email, nothing too distracting.

"One cappuccino triple shot of espresso coming up." Byron says, one can sense that grin he's wearing just from his voice alone. "Fifteen to twenty. Got it. I'll let security know that you're on your way and I'll have the penthouse button unlocked in the elevator." As he says this, he sends out a mail to his business associate, before documenting that he'd done so on yet a separate calendar that the one which was pulled up earlier.

Despite the recent... murders occurring at the place, the Bayside Apartments is difficult to get into. It's a gated community with at least one guard manning the gate, checking IDs for guests and things of that nature. When let in, there are areas reserved as guest parking for each of the three Bayside towers. Byron Thorne is located in the penthouse of Building A. From there, there's a lobby manned by a doorman, who acts as a second gatekeeper really, then the elevator where, normally, you'd need a key to access the penthouse, but for a limited time, that option is made available for Thorne's guests.

And lo, 17 minutes after the phone call concludes, a wild Rhys appears. Well, a fairly domesticated Rhys, actually. 'Nightclub manager' is pretty niche dress code, but 'accountant' and 'emissary' and 'general business discussion' call for other options. In this case, a dark moss-green needlecord suit over a honey-brown cable-knit v-neck sweater, white dress shirt, and wine silk tie, with the beard in its most (non-club-)professional-looking length and trim today. The suit's pretty decently tailored, but if you're his size you either learn to get that kind of thing done or you walk off an awful lot of cuffs. And that look doesn't even impress on Casual Fridays.

Arguably, recent... murders are all the more reason for security to be notable, particularly when someone's there to visit the owner. Who knows what kind of madness could be afoot! But Rhys has made it past the guardians at the gate (and lobby) without incident (but probably with small talk) and conquered the pressing of the button to arrive at the penthouse, brown leather coat draped over one arm and satchel promising possibly papers and probably a laptop. And whatever appropriate mode of self-announcement presents itself -- a door to knock on, a bell, a hearty 'yoohoo' (okay, maybe not that one) -- he avails himself of it.

While he may be in the comfort of his own home, Byron still dresses in business attire. For one, there's moments like these where he's entertaining clients and business associates at his apartment or the fact that he has the need to step out at the last minute to meet with said individuals. Aside from that, there's also the occasional video calls, conference or otherwise and in his mind, if you want to portray a certain level of professionalism, you need to always dress the part.

Thus, he's dressed in a dark suit jacket and slacks ensemble with a white dress shirt beneath and gray striped tie to complete the look. His on beard is lightly trimmed and his hair slicked back in what he deems his own city professional look. He greets the other with a broad smile, taking a step back once the door is swung wide open. "I hope you had no trouble navigating through the various security checkpoints." He also houses Felix's safehouses in several of these apartments, so quite a few of his security team are paid to accommodate such.

A look is given his Audemars Piquet watch, "Right on time too." Crossing the room, he gives the large French doors a brief glance, the one leading out to his rooftop terrace, "Nice day out? Besides the cold." Heading to the kitchen, he reaches up to grab a mug in which to fill with coffee for his guest. "Any specification for this order? Two or three shots of espresso? Caramel, Irish Creme, French Vanilla or Mocha flavoring?" It is quite a state-of-the-art espresso machine.

Rhys rides that business-formal/business-casual line right on into the penthouse, returning the smile. "Had to steal a motorcycle and jump a couple fences at that second one, but I made it in the end." Byron's watch gets a flicker of a glance, and the view out the doors a slightly longer one, as though he's appraising the weather he only just came in from. "Practically springlike. ...besides the cold. And the forecast for more snow tonight, but I guess I didn't say Spring where. Mocha sounds good, thanks. And thanks for making the time, as well as the coffee."

He moves toward the kitchen as well, to stay within reasonable chatting distance, and gives the area a quick, assessing glance. "What, no tip jar? That's just leaving money on the table." Coffee-acquisition is apparently not immediate-launch-into-important-topics time, though the questions that do come are broad enough to invite movement in that general direction: "Lillith doing well? How're things over here, aside from no longer plague-bearing?" And at least 80% less homicide-adjacent than last year.

A light sound of amusement escapes him when Byron position the mug within the espresso machine, before turning towards his guest to allow it to fill up. He has his own cup of coffee sit cooling on the island. "Some of my visitors do complain about the hoops they need to jump through. It's not ideal for someone who expects to conduct a lot of business from here, that's for sure, when I could simply rent an office downtown. But I like working from home and I've got such killer views."

No real response is given when Rhys jokes about his not having a tip jar though the edge of his lips pull up into a smirk. The question about Lilith however, comes just as the cup is fillled, well, filled up enough to save room for other additions and that included the milk foam that tops it which comes out in a steamy hiss. "Lilith doing pretty well actually. Keeping busy." There's a half-turned look that he gives Rhys right before he collects both cappuccinos, handing the freshly made one over to him before proceeding into his lavish office. "She has a new hire for the shop, so she's been busy training them." This is followed with, "Come in, have a seat."

"Saves on rents and travel time, as long as the visitors don't complain too much, interrupt dinner, or rifle through your medicine cabinets," Rhys agrees with a slight nod, and half-watches the machine do its work, though more of his attention remains on his host. "Good to hear -- and thanks," he accepts the cup. "Seems like business is going pretty well over there these days." Surely good news for everyone! If maybe slightly less for all the people busily pawning things.

The invitation's accepted, and he does indeed come in and have a seat, setting coat and case aside appropriately, the latter within easy reach as he settles in comfortably. The coffee's held but not yet sipped, giving it a minute or three to cool a bit. "I assume you're following the Foster situation, of course." The trial's scheduled to start fairly soon. And once that's all been sorted out -- barring some shocking turnaround -- the auction of the casino can't be too terribly far off.

Making his way around his desk to set his cup of coffee down beside his laptop, the screen still being open, Byron settles into the executive leather chair behind the desk. Coal dark eyes look on the screen for a brief moment before lowering the cover slightly, just so he has a better view of his guest.

For the most part, Byron's posture relaxes slightly once behind his desk with both of his hand rested folded within his lap for now. "Who isn't following the Foster situation. I'm sure that the GHPD is ever attentive to what is being printed for general consumption. Then there are those nature conservationists, "The eco-freaks, "who got up in arms regarding the fate and destruction of habitat of a native fish. And while that lawsuit might have been dropped." His squared shoulders lift, "I'm sure quite a few of them have their eyes on the casino's fate."

With that out of the way, he tilts his head to the side, wearing a thoughtful look on his face. "Are we preparing to move then?" He's talking Felix basically.

"Realistically, their best true chance to win with an eco argument was in the EIR stage," Rhys says, "Any argument the construction would affect the fish is moot by years now, and anything regarding operation can be dealt with if it has to be. Still an issue, of course, but..." A slight shrug, and then a fleeting shift at the left corner of his lips, not quite a smirk but somewhere in the same area code. "I'm fairly confident we have the resources to unravel the situation."

The thoughtful look's answered with a nod. "Preparing, yeah. The first thing we need to discuss is properly establishing the business partnership. Now, I have thoughts on the form and structure, and I know what Mr. Monaghan requires, but I'd like to have your input as well, what you see the partnership as being. We'll need to bring Mr. Marshall in on things too, of course, but," he studies Byron quite directly for a moment, "I felt it made most sense to discuss things with you first." Well, second. But considering Rhys is here, Felix likely goes without saying.

"While that is true and whether or not the...Cuthroat trout," Byron has to wonder if such a trout even exists, "was in an danger at all, there are still those wishing to preserve our environment. And they may have ideas on how to better convert the casino for their use. But it is as you've said," He sinks deeper against his seat, waving a dismissive hand at his own words, "Not only would they need the money to buy out the casino at auction, but also the funding to convert that space. Something which, unless it's a bored or environmentally minded billionaire, more than likely /if/ they are able to acquire the funds for the auction, it will continue to sit there as they struggle to gather funds for the conversion. Not ideal at all."

Only once this is said does a lone hand reach out to make contact with his cup of coffee, idly tracing invisible patterns along the still hot surface of the mug. "Mr. Monaghan had an interest in making Marshall one of his investors and partners for this endeavor." After a brief sip from his cup, he licks his lips which quirk into a smile, "I was tasked to speak to Marshall, of course, with him being one of my tenants. I had no idea if he would have any interest in investing into a casino, but looking ahead and thinking on his future, the idea of having some stake in the Grand Olympic was beginning to look really good to him."

There's a pause here and this time he takes a much longer sip of his drink. The rim of the cup lowering, he then adds, "I told him that I had another investor interested. I didn't tell him who that was exactly." That smile from earlier slowly returns even though he's shaking his head lightly, "Most people wouldn't be thrilled to know that they were going into business with the city's underworld boss." He then quickly adds, "Now I don't know what Marshall thinks of Monaghan, but it might be a good idea to have someone acting as our third investor, in name and, I suppose, credentials. Just so that's it's believable for any business savvy sort who cares to look into look through our finances and assets and things of that nature."

Setting his mug down once more, he will state, "It's probably a good idea even if Marshall isn't averse to being in league with Monaghan. It's in all of our best interest that Mr. Monaghan's name not be attached to this purchase. Not on paper anyway."

"And short of being outbid by Daddy Ecobucks, at that point it's a matter of PR," Rhys agrees with another faint shrug, "which is a battle I believe we can win." He risks a sip of his coffee, and either it's a pleasant temperature now or he's damn good at faking it, since it's followed by a smile rather than a wince. "I guess if they found themselves underwater, maybe someone'd kindly offer a way out. There's always a way. But like you said... not ideal." For them either.

A few more sips disappear as he listens to Byron's remark, the only interruption a murmured, "Allegedly," following the characterization of Felix as the city's underworld boss, amusement more in his eyes than anywhere else. Otherwise, as the slightly older man speaks, there's simply attention, and perhaps a faint sense of-- approval, perhaps? Something positive, anyway.

The impression's supported by a nod when Byron's done. "We don't want anything that'll create legal jeopardy, obviously, not that we can avoid," says the guy currently responsible for dealing with a lot of the books that cover where all the nice fresh sparkly clean money shakes off its suds, "but yeah, I had a certain level of obfuscation in mind, to keep Mr. Monaghan out of easy sight in it. Though not," and he sounds a little more thoughtful, studying the other man, "to the extent that Marshall would be out of that loop. Have you mentioned he doesn't know that little detail?" To Felix. "Now, if you feel that's wisest, it'll require some restructuring from what I was initially thinking... but we can do it, of course."

He settles back a little deeper in the chair, more clearly turning things over in his head now. "What did you say to Marshall about the third investor, so far? It's not trivial to find someone to be a reasonably convincing stand-in under scrutiny, yet actually be uninvolved... or at least, considerably less involved that they appear. We'd need someone willing to be in that position without the level of rewards it would seem to imply, who had or could give believable support for the necessary financial background, who could act as the third face of the consortium without letting things slip even to one of the co-partners, and who could be fully relied on by Mr. Monaghan to represent his interests in the overall partnership. It narrows the potential field pretty severely."

Another sip as he considers, adding aside, "You didn't lie, by the way: this espresso has terrible things to say about my ancestry." Which is apparently good.

Thorne seems content of this knowledge or belief that the eco freaks will be no issue when it comes to outbidding them for the casino. He will add in, still dismissively, "The main issue that we'll probably need to deal with in regards to nature conservationists are when they go rogue and become eco-terrorists. That and," His brows lift as he takes yet another sip from his cup, "Their protesting at City Hall. But I'm sure we'll find a way to deal with things if it comes down to it."

Once Rhys pushes the point of these allegations of Felix Monaghan having this dark criminal shadow looming over Gray Harbor, the edges of Byron's lips quirk into a smile, "Allegations. Right." He then continues on in regards to Easton, "I've not told Marshall who our third investor was. I did give him the numbers and a financial plan on what's at stake, especially after we have the casino in our clutches." A lone finger idly traces the side of his coffee mug again. "Easton Marshall, to me, is a man trying to turn his life around for the better." He will go on to admit even if that smile lingers, "He went from an asshole bully from when I knew him as a summer visitor to town as an adolescent to being completely apologetic because of the way he treated me and others way back when. To the point where I owe him a punch to the face."

His tall frame leans back fully against his chair once more, quickly adding, "That could possibly be because I'm not his landlord, but... he's a good man." And for now Byron will leave it at that, "Whoever stands in for this third investor, should be a respectable face-- if not from around town, because it's not as if I don't have associates and investors from around the world as it is, Possibly someone who owes a really big favor." Byron then goes on to say, "I was hoping that if it were ever found out, in private, between partners that this third party was a representative for Felix Monaghan, that I could feign surprise as well. That's more for Easton Marshall, really."

"Nevertheless," His posture straightens once again, drawing himself up further to sit at full height, "I've kept my nose clean in the public eye by limiting any involvement I have with Felix Monaghan or anything illegal. And I plan to keep it that way." There is then a shake of his head, "And no, I've not told him that Marshall is completely oblivious to this third investor, just that he agreed to invest. But seeing that Mr. Monaghan suggested Marshall in our conversation, I'm sure he has some dirt on ex-marine."

The compliment to the cappuccino gets a laugh, "On some days, I live on coffee. So I need to have the very best."

Rhys nods. Indeed, they'll find a way to deal with things if it comes down to it. They'll probably even think about it ahead of time, because it's always handy to be prepared, but this is not that meeting. "Innocent until et cetera," he agrees, doing a rather good line in Plausibly Earnest. It's technically true, after all. And thus a bit of an odd way to confirm he understands the concern, yet there you are.

He clearly listens as Byron goes over the situation with Easton and his thoughts on the man, little nods suggesting the gears are still turning as he does. Important nuggets about the partner he knows least well -- and some about Byron as well as those thoughts on the overall consortium situation. "Oh, I'm sure there's some kind of tie," he concurs, though if he has any idea what it might be, he isn't inclined to let on. Just to drink his pleasantly spiteful mocha. "But I don't see any real reason we need to get specific, if your impressions say Marshall's better kept in the dark."

A pause, in which he closes his eyes, head tilted and brow faintly furrowed. "Anyone we bring in," he says, eyes reopening and brows lifting a tad, "is also a potential liability. They do need to know the truth about the arrangements. Now, the paper trail's going to be complicated, but it's going to be clean. This is legitimate business, after all. And the simplest solution I see at present is: we can use me." He's still settled quite comfortably in that chair, but there's a subtle shift of his shoulders as he regards the other man. "I already know what needs to be known, and if I make a relatively slight investment myself, I can legitimately position 'my'," his free hand lifts just enough to give that casual air-quotes, "section of this group as a valid investment fund. The members don't need to be public, just the administration, and if I wrap things in a few other levels and," things get all technical for 30 to 60 seconds or so, ending with, "it'd be plenty to satisfy or stymie most of your business savvy sorts who cared to poke through before they got to the chewy Tootsie Roll center, I'd say." A smaller smile than before, and that tiny shrug again, "Well, unless they've really got a better accountant than we do, I guess." It's a weird mix of self-deprecating and confident: always possible, it says... but not worryingly likely.

"For the time being anyway." Byron will bring up in regards to what Easton should and shouldn't know. Thorne is iiving a double life when it comes to the majority of his friends. The only ones in the know are those already involved with Monaghan, which is very few. "I do have a reputation to protect. A reputation that might come in handy when speaking with Foster RE: The sale of his casino."

There's no question whether Marshall has any link to Monaghan at all. The fact that Easton 'owns' a bar in Gray Harbor might make him suspect, but Felix Monaghan doesn't own every business in the city, does he?

Though when Rhys brings himself up as a candidate for Felix's legal front man, this does make Byron take pause. It's clear that he's weighing the pros and cons of this, especially when he mentions his own investment. But, in truth, that's not Byron's biggest concern. "You openly work for the Firefly Club and thus Monaghan. I mean, of course that doesn't automatically mean that you have any hand in that part of his business, but I've been keeping my distance from the Club, personally, unless I have business associates that enjoy that sort of atmosphere that I must cater to. My worry is that people see your name, and I'm talking the GHPD right now, because everything that's gone down with the casino and with the establishment in their grasp, I can see them being suspicious of a new change of ownership from Foster to us."

Dark eyes look down into his cup for a briefest of moment, before lifting to view Rhys, "If you don't believe that your attachment to his project will draw eyes due to who your employer is, then I have no issue with it." He'll add, "I'm not certain if Marshall's suspicion will be raised, but the cops are constantly digging into everything. And the last I heard, the D.A. was being quite a pain in the ass."

"The bubble reputation," Rhys quotes, and considers Byron a moment. "I mean, if the casino's auctioned, Mr. Monaghan has as much right to buy it as anyone. He could decide to do it wearing a purple rhinestone jumpsuit, shooting off fireworks and talking through a bullhorn and the only legal issue would be disturbing the peace. ...and maybe evading the fashion police." He lifts his free hand slightly, a gesture to forestall protest, "Don't get me wrong, none of us would want your reputation to be wounded. And even if it doesn't turn out useful this time, it might well later. I actually agree with minimizing potential visible connections. My point is more that you're making this sound as though there were something inherently underhanded going on, when all there is is an entirely aboveboard real estate venture with some steps being taken to preserve personal privacy. He's very scrupulous about these things." And that's actually true, when it comes to the businesses with Felix's own name attached somewhere along the line.

"So, yeah, I openly manage the nightclub he happens to own. We haven't had so much as a health code violation. I'm also openly an MBA, a CPA, a small investment fund manager, and a surprisingly well-received karaoke performer. It's not unreasonable for me to be involved in something like this on my own account. And I wouldn't be comfortable asking someone," or not Felix, anyway, "to be represented by a stranger chosen by a different partner; that's a lot of trust to be putting in someone with no specific loyalty to you. That saaaid..." He tilts his head back against the chair, eyeing the ceiling for a thoughtful beat. "We don't actually need to have the membership of the partnership accessible to anyone outside of it. They don't, technically, need to know it's even more than one person. Theoretically anonymity might lead to a question or two itself, if people are going to be that suspicious, but it isn't as though it's even unusual. We -- or rather, you -- can simply play that off if need be." Byron's a good talker, after all.

Focusing on the other man again, he says, "The essential difference from the other version is that only we -- you, me, and Marshall -- would know who the partners in that LLC are. Still solves the other issues. And if you're worried about him suspecting via my presence, well, the anonymous LLC serving as 'you' in there could in fact be a partnership of both you and Mr. Monaghan. Not all of his investment, but enough to leave you appearing to be the majority stakeholder in the trio; if 'my' section appears smaller, it should seem less likely there's any connection. We'd simply need to discuss any decisions together, with Mr. Monaghan if he's available and wishes, before including Marshall. You'd be the sole public representative for the overall consortium. And we could potentially enlist one or more of your people as nominees for another layer of privacy... and possibly a little distraction." Much smaller ask, simply being a contact on a form. A small smile, and a single nod. "Yeah. That should handle our concerns. Up to you whether we adjust the apportioning for effect or not, but either way, I can set up all the LLCs appropriately."

"If Mr. Monaghan did openly purchase the casino, there's a very good chance that it's reputation would tank somewhat and we'd have the GHPD sniffing around more often than they should." Byron says more practically. "This is why he wants no mention of his involvement being made to anyone. Not with Foster," who Byron was still tasked to speak with, though the man's arrest does make things slightly more difficult. "Or anyone."

There's a quirk of a brow when Rhys tells him how he perceives Byron's incredibly cautious nature to be like. This does bring a broad smile to Thorne's lips. "It's all about the reputation." He starts, being a man who created this image for himself. An illusion of sorts. "The last thing that we need is for anyone to believe that illegal dealings is happening at the casino. Now don't get me wrong, I'm sure they'll have all eyes on it, especially since the D.A., I figure, is pissed that it was released for auction after she ensured its confiscation." Byron knows enough to realize some of the shady connections with, at the very least, the Chief of Police.

There's a hand lifted now, when he says, "Oh, I wasn't expecting to put any of mine as figurehead. Unless it was necessary. I'm sure there are others , like myself, completely legit and who have worked their asses off to minimize any public connection with Monaghan whatsoever. Still, if you believe that your reputation fits the bill and Monaghan is in agreement, I'm fine with it."

This talk of the LLC brings a hint of laughter to his tone, "That's actually how I handled Marshall. Though I'm sure he was still curious about who else I'd gotten to invest with us. And while he might not look the part, he definitely has a head for business, wanting all the details that I could give him on this venture. I'm not quite sure what Marshall would think of me being the sole public representative for us. I don't know if he's hoping to boost his own reputation with the casino or... simply to line his pockets and fill his bank vault with our earnings. But he does want to make something more of his life."

Reaching for his cup once more, he nurses the warm beverage by taking another slow sip. "But I believe it's a decent plan and definitely more along the lines of what I had been working on. The figurehead for Monaghan was mainly for Marshall's interest. He has no idea that I'm in league with Monaghan. And as we are of mutual acquaintances, if he does find out, I don't need that spreading around." Placing the mug back onto his desk, he'll say, "We get the approval from Monaghan to move onto the next phase and hopefully Easton Marshall plays along with these laid out plans."

"I know, I know, I'm not arguing that," Rhys says, a gesture dismissing any suggestion that Felix buying it openly would be an ideal circumstance. "It never would've been simple public knowledge. It's just it is possible to go cloak and dagger hard enough to stab yourself in the foot. Then you're limping around for weeks and every time someone asks you have to spin them a line of premium bullshit and it's just embarrassing." Just the ghost of the grin, and he takes another drink of his coffee.

"No, I'm never going to argue reputations don't matter. We'll take all reasonable precautions, though I'd like to think mine isn't the stuff random assumptions of rampant criminality are made of. I just make sure the bills are paid, the books are balanced, and the customers are happy." Granted, being here right now may not fall precisely under any of the above, but it's a completely legitimate business meeting about completely legitimate business with a completely legitimate businessman. What's to look askance at? There's a moment where he might have said something else, but whatever it might have been, it's dismissed. Unnecessary details, perhaps, since there seems to essentially be agreement.

Instead, he half-smiles. "If Marshall wants to speak up, it's not like we can't work with that. But I've got every confidence you can sell him on the general arrangement. If you're worried, I can probably find you some eskimos and ice for a reassuring warm-up." A beat, and he gestures with the mug, "Okay, maybe watch how warm until they've signed. But the confidence stands." And, appropriately, so does he. "So you'll set things up with him, and I'll go back and get things arranged on the other end. I'll have assorted exciting papers for you both in a few days. And possibly donuts, if I'm feeling really nice. Anything else we ought to cover before we adjourn?"

"This is why my only lie is that I have no idea of Monaghan's involvement. Not to Marshall or anyone else." Byron says with his own dismissive wave of a hand. "Of course, if Marshall does become upset by this," There's a shrug of his shoulders, "I'll be just as surprised and shocked as he is. And then I'm sure we'll make the best of it." His mind is always thinking ahead, making several contingency plans for the various just-in-cases and what if's.

"Donut are always nice. May need to get a few dozen of them and play nice with the GHPD come auction time." He jokes, before adding, "Pastries from Vydal's shop is also appreciated. I'll look forward to seeing what you have written. I've been in communication with Foster's lawyer as of late. Whatever the outcome, and I honestly can't see Foster winning this case, I wish him the best of luck. Once the casino is in our possession, " He seems confident enough about this, "I'll speak to my own security team and get that set up." There's a faint quirk of his lips before he eases himself up into a standing position, extending a hand across his desk for a deal closing shake as he does so. "I believe everything that needed to be discussed was discussed. I'll speak to Marshall. Things will start moving at a rapid pace in the next few weeks. Can't say that I'm not interested to know who else has their eyes on the prize."

"Not an inkling. I'm sure we'd all be gobsmacked if such a fact turned up," Rhys agrees earnestly, then shrugs slightly and adds in more genuine tones, "Well, maybe not all; I might have to take a slightly more complicated tack." What with all that needs setting up. He doesn't sound terribly concerned about whether he could find a suitable slightly-more-complicated stance, though. There's always a way. And he might be inclined to running a few contingencies himself. "But of course we'd make the best of it. What else could we do?" A slight lifting of brows. Two against one at worst supporting this opinion, should it ever come to that, yes?

"I bet they are, but am I going to be feeling that nice?" The grin pops up again. "Maybe we can talk Vydal into making that few dozen donuts. Cronuts, whatever. I dunno, where exactly do baked goods cross from gift to graft?" he jokes back. A nod suggests he can't really see Foster getting out of this either, from where he stands, and he takes the step necessary to reach across to meet the handshake. It's a good one, firm without any need to overstate or threaten. "We'll need to get together again to discuss plans and operations, soon," he says, so the confidence in the eventual ownership outcome here is clearly mutual, "Looking forward to that. And I can't say I'm not interested to watch this next few weeks myself."

A possibly-final drink from his mug, and he sets it on the corner of the desk long enough to scoop up his coat and case. "Thanks for your time," he says as he turns to reclaim the cup, presumably intending to drop it off in the kitchen on his way out, and gives Byron a smile. "Let's go buy a casino."