He could be doing better things, Makarov knew that, but it didn’t hurt to show his face once in a while.

Only at an underground party with security and rich folk with shady pasts, of course…

Sitting at the bar with a drink in hand, he took a slow sip, savouring the burn of the copper tinted liquid sloshing around the carved glass.

His men disbanded a while ago at the party, to go ‘have fun’ or something — Only on his command, though.