Post by Marc Dahlmaine on Aug 21, 2015 2:02:59 GMT -5
His friend was always so stoic. And considering this was a topic they had never broached, he was attentive. It would be less of a show to their friendship if he did anything more.
"Ah, ah, ah. But you have visited my own home! In the forest, with the fields of grapes, with the women, with the sweet air! And to hear you slander such paradise hurts me deeply, Luthor!" He mocked his friend, a hand going to a fist and clasped to his breast.
"You wound me with such vile words! Then again, even in those years, you did yearn for the concrete jungles and homes made atop mountains of steel and glass. I cannot entirely fault you, considering our own adventures, and my own turn from country 'simpleton' to cavalier businessman. For me to explain to others that I once never knew a time in my life when footwear was nothing more than compounded dirt and callous on my own flesh. When I never knew of such things as fine Italian shoes. That I once ran free among the orchards in dirt, sans many of the articles of clothing we are now hampered with. Men, and the fairer sex laugh in my face when I claim I fell in love with the foreigner, the dark haired girl my sister had become close with. They see nothing but you, my friend. A smart, educated man. We seem to have changed places, and that no one can truly believe where our roots once started before transplantation."
He always had a romantic, poetic way of stating the truth. It got him far in some circles. Then most truly did not believe that the educated man was clearly grown to his educational years in dirt and sunlight. It pained him to think of his brilliant friend as being shut down for his intellect. Luthor was one of the few men he could banter with. That his hobbies mattered little. It was an exchange of favors, always, and never a tally of owed.
Pausing a moment himself to think of the two men, and how their lives had twined together over the years made him contemplative. He had helped Alexander here and there, and in turn, Alexander had helped him. Inspiration? He had it once. Now he could do nothing less than finding her again, and earning it back. He spent his waking hours in expansion. A simple merchant peddling his wares to those who would, and could benefit from such simple pleasures. For who's life could not be improved by good wine?
"Then why not seek to expand together. You are always steps ahead of me, Luthor. You are the true trailblazer. You leave behind you crumbs that I am only fortunate to grasp at, and to reach those masses in which you have already primed for me." Refilling his glass, while he scoffed politely, he was keenly listening. Alexander Luthor was a businessman above all, he knew this intimately. It was such a shame so few heard what he was actually pitching with his brilliant, forward thinking mind. Marc had only learned through the years in confidence with the man on how to follow on the subtle cues and gleanings.
"That is my goal here in this dark city! To provide such good libations and to enlighten these American fools. They drink fancy vinegar. You have sampled from my family's selections. And I agree. The Italians, while large in number, promise much and fall short all too often." The gleam in his ice blue eyes flamed hot, and he met the near maniacal thrill in his friend's mein.
The last time they had gone off like this, much had been accomplished. They were a powerhouse when inebriated and fortified with idea. There had been times after dancing that he had secreted himself away with her, dancing in stolen moments, her bringing a friend so the four of them could squirrel away the nighttime hours away from such gaudy discos and clubs. Luthor was a madman, and a madman he was more than willing to throw his lot in with.
"Then where shall we overcome first?" Steepling his fingers he was ready to conspire on their overhaul of Gotham, their forward steps to enlighten the poor, malnourished fools.
"Ah, ah, ah. But you have visited my own home! In the forest, with the fields of grapes, with the women, with the sweet air! And to hear you slander such paradise hurts me deeply, Luthor!" He mocked his friend, a hand going to a fist and clasped to his breast.
"You wound me with such vile words! Then again, even in those years, you did yearn for the concrete jungles and homes made atop mountains of steel and glass. I cannot entirely fault you, considering our own adventures, and my own turn from country 'simpleton' to cavalier businessman. For me to explain to others that I once never knew a time in my life when footwear was nothing more than compounded dirt and callous on my own flesh. When I never knew of such things as fine Italian shoes. That I once ran free among the orchards in dirt, sans many of the articles of clothing we are now hampered with. Men, and the fairer sex laugh in my face when I claim I fell in love with the foreigner, the dark haired girl my sister had become close with. They see nothing but you, my friend. A smart, educated man. We seem to have changed places, and that no one can truly believe where our roots once started before transplantation."
He always had a romantic, poetic way of stating the truth. It got him far in some circles. Then most truly did not believe that the educated man was clearly grown to his educational years in dirt and sunlight. It pained him to think of his brilliant friend as being shut down for his intellect. Luthor was one of the few men he could banter with. That his hobbies mattered little. It was an exchange of favors, always, and never a tally of owed.
Pausing a moment himself to think of the two men, and how their lives had twined together over the years made him contemplative. He had helped Alexander here and there, and in turn, Alexander had helped him. Inspiration? He had it once. Now he could do nothing less than finding her again, and earning it back. He spent his waking hours in expansion. A simple merchant peddling his wares to those who would, and could benefit from such simple pleasures. For who's life could not be improved by good wine?
"Then why not seek to expand together. You are always steps ahead of me, Luthor. You are the true trailblazer. You leave behind you crumbs that I am only fortunate to grasp at, and to reach those masses in which you have already primed for me." Refilling his glass, while he scoffed politely, he was keenly listening. Alexander Luthor was a businessman above all, he knew this intimately. It was such a shame so few heard what he was actually pitching with his brilliant, forward thinking mind. Marc had only learned through the years in confidence with the man on how to follow on the subtle cues and gleanings.
"That is my goal here in this dark city! To provide such good libations and to enlighten these American fools. They drink fancy vinegar. You have sampled from my family's selections. And I agree. The Italians, while large in number, promise much and fall short all too often." The gleam in his ice blue eyes flamed hot, and he met the near maniacal thrill in his friend's mein.
The last time they had gone off like this, much had been accomplished. They were a powerhouse when inebriated and fortified with idea. There had been times after dancing that he had secreted himself away with her, dancing in stolen moments, her bringing a friend so the four of them could squirrel away the nighttime hours away from such gaudy discos and clubs. Luthor was a madman, and a madman he was more than willing to throw his lot in with.
"Then where shall we overcome first?" Steepling his fingers he was ready to conspire on their overhaul of Gotham, their forward steps to enlighten the poor, malnourished fools.
