<a class="username" data-user-id="169" data-username="@Kūkyo" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/169/">@Kūkyo</a><br/><br/><div class="bbCodeSpoiler">
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<span>Spoiler: <span class="bbCodeSpoiler-button-title">Dorian</span></span>
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</div><br/>It was almost like a ritual, his life. Every morning he got up at 4 a.m., brewed coffee, went for a morning jog. Then he showered, dressed in one of his many steel gray suits with pale blue ties and golden cuff links, made sure his soft beard was trimmed precisely the way he wanted it. The beard gave him a rugged appearance, handsome in his late thirties. He'd made a career for himself on an empty childhood. He was single, with no ties to society. No friends. No room mates. He had a condo right in the heart of the city he worked in.<br/><br/>Most importantly, Dorian hadn't ever lost a case. To keep the record, he hand selected his own cases. He never took things that were assigned to him. In fact, nothing really was ever assigned to him because he was the manager of his own law firm. He arrived to work precisely at six in the morning, and left at four in the afternoon. Unless the case was long, which often they were. Being a defense attorney was not easy. Lawyers were vultures, always pecking at the lives around them to see who got the best victories. The easy ones.<br/><br/>Dorian wouldn't bother himself with the easy cases. In fact, his firm had gotten so big he had had to hire other lawyers to take on a good portion of the cases. Otherwise he would be severely overwhelmed, and that was simply unacceptable. At least once a year, depending on how long a case dragged out, he would pick up a case that would take anywhere between a month to several. His longest case, clearing a serial killer, had lasted a year. Though he had managed to take smaller cases on the side.<br/><br/>He was not popular, and he wasn't liked. He avoided social media directly, letting his secretary manage any advertising and dealing with the naysayers. Sure he hadn't had the best childhood, but he didn't sympathize with serial killers and rapists, either. It was a job, and there were too many prosecuting attorneys out there. Of course, he only stayed within his jurisdiction. No amount of money could drag him from his comfortable abode in the heart of New York City.<br/><br/>Someone asked him once why he hadn't picked a quieter setting. He never answered.<br/><br/>It was Friday, and he got off work precisely at four. Fridays one of several things happened. He often went on a drive to the northern part of the state. Sometimes he went to his cabin in Buffalo. Usually he picked one of his favorite restaurants to dine at. But he was feeling a bit bold, and decided to go against his routine. A new club had opened up downtown. It wasn't a place of cheap eats, but rather fine and expensive dining.<br/><br/>No one would ever catch Dorian eating at a cheap place. He hadn't since he was in college, living off wages as a waiter. He didn't need to indulge in cheap eateries when he made several hundred thousand a year. Great health insurance, great retirement and other benefits. It was a great, and utterly empty life.<br/><br/>Dorian was consumed with loneliness. Although, it never showed. His gun metal gray eyes were always cold and glaring, never warm or welcoming. He carried himself with a presence that did not warrant anyone's company. No one had ever braved his cold countenance and tried to get past the cold shell he'd encased his heart in. He didn't make it easy for others, either. Hell he hadn't even indulged in a one night stand in quite a long time. He couldn't even remember, really.<br/><br/>And he wasn't really going to the bar to pick up someone. He just wanted to see how popular the place was, how good the food was, and, well, let his fantasies roam. He'd just one a case where he'd been able to get a murderer off free of all charges. There were plenty of cases where there was little to no evidence that was sufficient enough to put the criminals behind bars. And nothing compared to the case that had made him infamous.<br/><br/>Still in his pressed, clean gray suit with its pale blue tie and gold cuff links, he had a valet take his 2016 sapphire blue Porsche and park it appropriately and went inside. He parked himself at the bar and ordered a dry scotch, something he favored over other liquors. He combed over the menu, needing dinner of course, but the evening was still young.