"Los Angeles has my heart." Milan said as he took in a gulp from his scotch. He sat in his office, which had two brown leather chairs that smelled like whiskey and coal.
His office was very cold, he had two white boards and different numbers written on them, and also the number of Xavier's Lawyer, but that wasn't needed any more now that Xavier is either in Hell or hiding somewhere.
Milan was in an unusually good mood. He wasn't even sure why, so he decided to take a drive to boost his mood and go wherever the road takes him.
He ended up at a casino downtown.
It wasn't one of the high-end ones that catered to celebrities and politicians—it was mid-range, full of people who played big like they had something to prove. Milan liked those kinds. They didn't notice when someone like him entered. He could observe, listen, blend in without much effort.
