I keep a record of the wreckage of my life [Torrence]

Rosaline Bane had corresponded with Torrence Regan a few days prior to arrange a meeting for this afternoon. He seemed annoyed, and her stomach had been in knots over it. She'd insisted on a face-to-face meeting. She did better face-to-face than she did in letters.

Her black siletto heels made a soft-click clack on the sidewalk as she made her way to his place of business. They had some problems to iron out. She was, undoubtedly, just as upset about the breach in their deal as he was. Ms. Bane, herself, had very little to do with the sale of illicit substances these days. Her new responsibilities and private struggles had made it necessary for her to step away from such a direct role in that particular source of income for the family empire. She had spent some time in a private rehabilitation center after her brush with death after her overdose with Basil and Leoline at Christoph and Leona's wedding. Her family had done an excellent job of keeping the whole ordeal under wraps, and she was grateful to them for that. Her mother had done an amazing job, and Rosaline felt shame at letting her down so terribly. She at least hadn't been in any tabloids or anything-- not yet. However, in her absence, an underling had made an unfortunate blunder. They had made a deal on Torrence's turf. Now, it was her responsibility to clean up the mess. The last thing that she needed was more conflict, and especially not with someone who she actually respected. With her mother's arrest, she already had enough on her plate.

She had come bearing gifts. She and a business partner had recently developed a new line of wines and liquors and, remembering Torrence's fondness for drink, she had brought along a bottle as a peace offering. This particular bottle was a plum and cinnamon infused brandy-- one of her favorites. The two were really quite similar and she hoped that he would enjoy her choice. It was warm enough, now, that she didn't need a cloak, but she wore a black capelet over her gray pencil dress regardless.

Walking through the door with her usual air of confidence, Rosaline approached someone who looked like they worked there. "Hello. My name is Rosaline Bane." She paused for a moment and offered a polite smile. "I have an appointment with Mr. Regan. Could you point me in the right direction?"

@Torrence Regan

"I've got it, Eve, you can go," Torr said as he walked in from the workshop at the back, dismissing the girl at the counter easily, watching as she disappeared into the back before he leveled his gaze at the woman standing across from him. He hadn't seen her in a while and he took his time taking her in as he wiped his hands with a cloth. There were a few cauldrons gurgling in his work room and he had been working for too long of a time so he hadn't minded the disturbance except until he saw who it was.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Rose?" he asked, cutting through the anticipated niceties she might want to offer. Yeah, he had received her letter the other week and as per his usual with most mail, had not replied. He was a bit surprised she had the balls to show up anyway and holding a bottle of something. His brows rose as he met her gaze. "Did you really think a bribe would help?" he asked, assuming that was the reason she was carrying it.

Wearing his worn black boots and dressed in his usual all black with black trousers, a black tshirt stretched across his chest, he came around the counter to lean back against it, crossing one ankle over the other. "What do you have to say for yourself?" A thread of anger and annoyance showing in his tone. They both knew exactly what she (or her little minions) had done, breaching the agreement they had made on territories, which cost him a slice in sales of bliss this past month. He shouldn't have been surprised. Just another woman not keeping her word.