Gin Mills and the Goods

Raid

Tedros had been expecting this dinner to be awkward. He'd been expecting it to be stuffy and oppressive. He'd expected to see an assortment of his father's friends in various outdated dinner jackets, getting slowly wine drunk. (He'd also not expected to go, but this was thethird time Arthur hadn't showed, and he'd been forced to attend in his place, to alleviate some suspicion.)

What he hadn't been expecting was Dot.

She waves at him frantically as he enters, and Tedros stares helplessly at her. He can see several eyes flicking between them. How can he explain how he knows her? He can't very well say they work in the same underground speakeasy for the same infamous mob boss.

"Why are you here?" He whispers frantically, masked by the general chatter as they head over to take their seats. Dot winks conspicuously at him.

"Boss sent me. Y'know, after you told me to talk to her? She said I was her best spy, and said this dinner might be real useful!'

Tedros is not one to doubt Lady A's judgement, but considering Dot is just talking openly about it, he has to admit, he has reservations.

"I didn't know you'd be here though! That's good."

She trots off to her seat. Tedros takes his, next to a solemn, silent boy around his age he doesn't recognise. How could Lady A have even known this dinner was happening? He hadn't told her. Then again, she had a habit of knowing things that it didn't make sense for her to know.

He scans the table, wondering who she could have gotten information from. Glances at the boy to his right, who's staring at him.

"You're Tedros, aren't you? Arthur Pendragon's son?"

"Oh-- yes." Tedros takes his hand, wondering if he could be the link to Lady A. "I don't think we've ever met before."

"No," says the boy. "I'm Kei Nakamura. I'm here with my godfather."

He indicates a short, balding man that Tedros recognises as one of his father's old friends, Galahad. He looks across at him and recognises him instantly.

"Ah, Tedros! I see you've met my godson."

"Yes, sir."

"Are you alone tonight? Where's Arthur?"

"Unwell, sir." Says Tedros. Hungover is closer to the truth.

Galahad sighs.

"A pity. He hasn't come to any of these little get-togethers for months now."

Tedros nearly snorts, eyeing the chandelier and the very long table. Little.

"I think it's just bad luck, sir. He did say he wished he could make it."

That's a lie; he hadn't said much of anything when Tedros had gone to tell him where he was going, carrying on the long-standing tradition of mostly ignoring his son for very long periods of time.

Galahad nods solemnly.

"Well, at least you're here, boy. We need some newcomers. Lost lots of people over the years."