The bar was stained with patches of dried in alcohol spills. The low purple and blue lights made the room seem even dingier. The club was a small room with the bar opposite a stage. Music that was louder than it needed to be was being blasted from small 6 inch speakers dotted around the room, giving it a tinny sound. A place that the sole occupant of the corner booth would not have been seen dead in a few years previously. The light above that particular booth had flickered and died when the man had sat down, leaving the area in darkness, and the man unidentifiable.
"Mr Black, the usual?" The barman called from his position, scrubbing down the bar with a rag that was dirtier than the bar itself. The rag had several burns and holes in it, but Augustus Finlay was a tight fisted fellow and as long as there was rag to use, he'd use it. The slightest, almost imperceptible nod set the man to his work, filling a glass with roughly 2 fingers of the more expensive rum, he lifted it across to the man. "This is going cheap tonight, getting a few more of those with expensive taste and not willing to part with the money to buy much of it in. A little loss tonight opens up more profit for the future."
The customer in the corner downed his drink in one, as always without the slightest twitch of discomfort at the 35% scorching his throat. This had always been strange for Augustus, not even the most seasoned of drinkers he knew could pull that off, but he'd never asked. His customers didn't pay him to ask questions. The rum always came first, then the man known only as Mr Black would talk.
"You seem to be entirely profit driven, Mr Finlay. People might get the wrong impression. And you look like one who would feel like he'd lost a limb if he parted with so much as a penny more than necessary."
"My patrons are few and far between. I need to make money any way I can. When more show up, I'll relax a bit on my scrimping."
The man simply nodded slight as before, swirling his now third glass of the expensive rum. "Perhaps a few pennies to spruce the place up wouldn't go amiss." Mr Black said, not taking his eyes from the swirling liquid in his hand.
" I can barely afford to pay the three staff I have, left alone renovations."
"Then perhaps your bar could be for sale. I know there have already been several people making offers."
"They expect me to part from my business with the meagre sum they offer. I will not sell to any of them." The stubborn man said.
"It is a logical solution. They will I am sure keep you and the other staff here employed and renovate the place to attract a bigger crowd."
The barman's jaw tightened and he stood to return to the bar, the man's glass needing a refill. "You can buy the rest of the bottle, pay your tab and be on your way." The man said gruffly.
Silently, Mr Black rose and did just that. Thanking the man for his service, with a little sarcasm, he glided out the door. Augustus Finlay shivered slightly, there was always something in the back of his mind that said this man was a bit off. As usual he shrugged it off, his bar tended to attract the bottom of the food chain of the population, those who came to wallow. With a sigh he returned to his task of wiping down to the bar.
Twenty three miles away, in a London townhouse, a man appeared in his front hallway. He walked through the house, a half emptied bottle of rum joined the table of spirits in the study. Papers littered the desk, and the man lounged in his chair, a glass of tonight's rum in hand.
"Mr Finlay still refusing to budge on his bar?" A voice . The man only nodded, still deep in thought.
"Come to bed, we'll discuss it in the morning."
The man in the chair nodded at his partner and swallowed the golden brown liquid in one.