<br/><hr/><div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/6/6f/Mayor_cochran.png)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Mayor Cochran<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Sweetrock<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 11th, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Afternoon<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Outside Babel's Tower<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Open, Bella<br/><hr/>He gave a broad smile, certain beyond any doubt that Bella knew what he was hinting at, and also quite confident he had a stage in mind for a private performance.  “Well, I can’t fault the man’s eye for quality.  I suspect you wouldn’t have had any trouble finding work, either way,” he mused.  His smile widened as she assured him all her performances were given her best effort.<br/><br/>He nodded at the wine, mouth curling in an amused smile.  “I do enjoy a certain sweetness - but I can’t protest when there’s a bit of bite to it.  Something with a bit of an edge, not just softly sweet tantalization.”  His moustache twitched a bit at the admiration in her voice.  “Ah, no, most miners aren’t deep underground.  The mesas - there’s as many ways to mine them as there are miners.  There’s those who scrape out their living down at the base, scratching out fundament from the rock, and those who take painted ladies up the sides and work the sides of the mesas.  Some dig down from the top - some actually build mines, but most miners don’t have the time, the resources to burrow through a mine and scrape it clean.”  He chuckled.  “Only fellows with some serious backing can afford to do that.”  His smile was a little tight at the accusation of hard work.<br/><br/>“Luck, Miss Capri.  A good strike is like a bolt of lightning.  All the skill and hard work in the world can leave a man starving to death in Gomorra, or eaten by a Maze Dragon.  No,<em>fortune</em>is the only thing which really matters.  Lady Luck is the goddess most miners give their prayers to, not the Lord Almighty.”<br/><br/>He gave a little smile, as she promised every women had a secret, and shifted her knee against his hand.  “Well, I suspect there are few who know more about it than myself,” he offered.  “But I’m afraid my secrets don’t come cheaply.  Just as I expect you don’t offer your performances to just anyone who takes a fancy.”<br/><br/>He waved a hand as she was pulled away.  “Another time, mon petite Bella.  Another time.  Break a leg,” he offered, sitting back to finish his wine and enjoy the privacy of the booth for a time.  He watched the curve of her backside as she walked away, washing down the rest of the wine in a single chase.