The bar was relatively quiet, the idle chatter of patrons and occasional shhhh of glasses sliding across the bartop creating a quaint and comfortable atmosphere for two friends to catch up, on life and on work. Boris sat on a cushioned barstool, his back curved slightly under his tailored, charcoal grey suit to allow him to be a bit closer to his friend and business partner, Benicio. The two discussed their upcoming heists in hushed murmurs, ensuring their words wouldn't fall on innocent ears. Boris' tail swished idly behind him, brushing over the soft leather of his seat as his fingers delicately traced the rim of his drink – an Old Fashioned with brown sugar instead of white and an extra twist of orange.