nicolò waved his hand dismissively as he left a group of associates, sighing. he had had enough of distributing orders all day. the job was usually pleasant enough- like, it was good to be in a position of power- but he was just done. soldiers could be annoying, but the damn associates could be even worse. he walked up to the bar with a heavy exhale. "scotch, per favore." he didn't sit. he didn't like to, when he had the option. it was awkward, and made him feel oddly antsy.

the bartender poured him a glass, a sphere of ice floating in the golden liquor. he picked it up. "grazie, signore." nicolò tipped the glass to him and turned away, sighing as he looked over the soldiers and associates. what a waste. it was always much more interesting to talk to the caporegimes- carlisle, angelo, people like them. they had real opinions; they weren't afraid to share them, at least. "dear god, these guys..." he mumbled to himself exasperatedly.