<div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 22px"><span style="font-family: 'Georgia'">Into The Twilight Below</span></span><br/>​</div><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-family: 'Georgia'"><div class="bbm_float fright" style="float:right;margin:0 0 5px 10px">
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</div></span></span><span style="font-size: 18px"><span style="font-family: 'Georgia'">Dion was probably better than most of the other Olympians, when it came to dealing with change.  He actively worked at it, especially in his business among the mortals.  Still, when things were working well and then something changed, he had to remind himself that if he wanted to have a place of his own on the planet that he'd best deal with the reality of the situation.  The god of wine and madness needed to replace the hostess in the lounge, because she was getting married and moving away. <br/>
<br/>
Dion was in his business and bartending attire of a tailored white dress shirt, bow tie, vest and dress slacks of a purple so dark it could be mistaken for black.  Even his shoes were this same purple.  He appeared a vital 'forty-ish'.  His head waiter, Gany, was similarly attired, but the cut of his clothing accented his forever twenty-something youthful appearance and dancer's body.  The lights were actually 'up' in the normally twilight lit Lounge, beneath the more pedestrian Restaurant above.  The pair were discussing how they were going to replace Dolores, over a bottle of Tsipouro.<br/>
<br/>
"To Dolores," toasted Dion, "may she have a fulfilling life and good children."<br/>
"To Dolores," said Gany, raising his glass in reply.  He coughed just a little as the first drink went down, a side effect of his eternal youth.  Both men grinned, it was an old joke that neither one of them ever seemed to get tired of.  <br/>
<br/>
Dion poured again and asked, "So, how do you want to do this?" he asked.  Dion was 'the Boss', but he depended greatly on Gany's abilities for the smooth operation of the larger business.  Dion, by choice, preferred to be behind the bar.  'Be classy, do what you like, do what you must and delegate the rest' was Dion's business philosophy.<br/>
<br/>
"I know that you like to promote from within," answered Gany, taking another drink.  The drinks after the first were easier.  "I think it's a good philosophy.  With that in mind, I have a good feeling about our upstairs hostess, Imogen O'Connor.  There's a small chance that she might not adjust well enough, but I feel good about her odds."<br/>
<br/>
"Celtic descent?" asked Dion, pouring and knocking back another shot.<br/>
"There's some of than in the mix, I'm sure," replied Gany and then downing shot number three.  Knowing that Dion generally did not discriminate against people based on ethnicity, but that he had a positive hierarchy to some of the others.  First on the list were Greeks, then the Romans and their descendants, then the Celts and then the French.<br/>
<br/>
"Good odds, you say?' questioned the older god, pouring again.<br/>
"Pretty good odds," answered the younger god, turning his glass over.  Every other drinker was a lightweight compared to Dion and Gany was not ashamed to admit it.<br/>
<br/>
The pair 'willed' themselves sober.</span><br/>
</span><br/><span style="font-family: 'Georgia'"><span style="font-size: 18px">Dion reached under the bar and produced an old fashioned telephone.  He lifted the handpiece from the cradle and made the call, upstairs to the Restaurant.  The phone was answered by Daphne.  Dion informed the green haired nymph that they'd be promoting Imogen.  Daphne had two weeks to hire a replacement from wherever.  Imogen was to report downstairs for an interview, just to make sure that the girl was willing for the change.</span></span>