(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/Monaco/Characters/Avatars/AdrianAvatar.jpg)<br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;">Adrian Layvin Dumont</span></span><br/><strong>Location:</strong>Maya Bay Bar & Café<br/><strong>With:</strong>James Sutherling<br/><br/><hr/><br/>"The things in the government are above my end, James." Adrian picked up his wine and sipped at it, staring at Mr. Sutherling throught he stone-cut corner of his left eye. The glass tilted up two or three times before it found itself back on the table. Adrian's hand moved quickly, as if he were urgently performing sign language, straight faced, sober, and calming. He took his sunglasses from his vest, and slid them on over his eyes. He wished to look westward, it was late enough in the afternoon to make that a difficult form of leisure. Even behind those lenses, he squinted a bit, watching folk as the walked by, and drove away.<br/><br/>"You've known me long enough, now, haven't you? To ask me about my work?" He smiled. With expressed resolve, Adrian lifted his napkin, and spent some time pushing it back and forth around the salt shaker, and the dispenser. His mind seemed to be on other places as he spoke. "Before I came out to lunch, today, I was at my desk for five hours, it's all paper work, my friend. I plug numbers and letters into programs on computers. I see maybe ten other people a day, and they're all about to tell me the same story that I'm about to tell them, because we both got the same e-mail on the computer fifteen minutes before from the funny guy in the office. The only difference really being that I would be telling the story with disdain and melancholia. Where as, everyone else would be too busy laughing to do so properly." he took a moment to breathe deeply, though it wasn't very long. "Speaking of woman in the office, there are a couple of slippery little pieces walking around on the floor above man. I suppose an official up top likes to bring his girls to work with him. It's the only explanation, but I see them doing the most menial tasks, truly odd behavior, James." Still sipping at his wine with every few distant sentences, Adrian decided to end his tale with some relevancy. "I was going upstairs to deliver my report to Grady last wekk. He's my direct boss, and he's up on that level. As I'm waiting for the elevator, one of these girls, there must be three or four of them, all dressed in pink night gowns, the kind that cover from here to nothing down here." His hand was pressed against the middle of his chest. "It is Opaque in the light. None of them are dressed underneath. Now, one of them, a pretty little blonde thing is on her knees cleaning the elevator frame as I'm waiting, and she looks up at me... It took a lot of will-power not to do something, because, she wanted me to take her. Mostly men in the desks though, James, to be honest, only those cunts, and other cunts like them in my office." Adrian was proud of himself, for taking such a serious issue and boiling it down to such a short point, there at the end. His cocky brow flicked up as he tried to keep Mr. Sutherling honest.<br/><br/>The two of them, James and Adrian were two different kinds of the same beast. they were members and product of the sub-culture, fanatics, and sycophants. Adrian just seemed to be the graveyard type, the poet with a skull in his hand; he could call on fire and sulfur, lurch for passion, and moments of bliss. Adrian lived for no one but himself. But, he knew that the world was cursed, now. The same way that Mr. Sutherling knew it. He knew that the men in charge were sick in the head.<br/><br/>His eyes glazed over, now, and his voice went still. It looked like he had suddenly become nauseous.