Another day another board meeting. With the end of the year always came this particular meeting—one in which the entire annum was looked over. Expenses, profit margins and ways to cut costs had been the focus the previous fiscal period and were the same for this year. All of this was tiring to Monsoon, to say the least. Sure his secretary handled all of the preparation for the board meeting, and she had gone with him, but it was still painfully dull.
Sitting still for any great extent bored the Cambodian to death. He didn't even mind doing the paper work said woman managed for him—it was just, too often, more than he could handle since he was still fully on call for Desperado LLC. Managing World Marshall's headquarters in Denver was almost calming. His issue, in its entirety, was that he absolutely hated being stuck sitting in place for that long with nothing to keep himself more occupied—he needed his hands busy and body in motion with something productive.
With everything said, however, he was also a man who took comfort in his solitude. Being in the presence of that buffoon though for any lengthy amount of time wore into his patience. Vast amounts of people in general did much the same if he were exposed to them for far too long. He was far different from his younger years—but even as 'Sai' he enjoyed some quiet time.
The Desperado Captain slid into his large and spacious office whereas he drifted over to the mini fridge in a far corner by a file cabinet. Procuring a bottle of wine, past the secretaries various chilled items, he took one of the wine glasses he kept face down on the filing cabinet and moved to the far side of his office. The area was arranged as a small meeting and greeting area with two black couches facing one another with a coffee table as a center piece over an ample sized rug. The area was meant to be comfortable and for leisure as well—when he had the chance to use them for such purposes.
Before taking a seat, agile, pianist hands plucked the precious set of ebony sai off a specially modified belt for them. Dystopia was set on one of the end tables before he finally lowered himself down into its comfortable leather materials. The wine bottle was slowly lowered onto the floor by his feet—a lavish amount of the crimson elixer already adorned the wine glass as his now free hand reached towards the neck tie fastened around his neck.
The few top buttons of his shirt, almost the same deep color of his wine, were plucked undone as his head fell back. Taking a single, testing taste he gave a nod. Alcohol was alcohol to him typically, but he had managed to save a bit of what money, here and there, that wasn't horded into the tremendous debt he wielded so he could buy himself something nice—that had been the particular bottle that sat on the floor close-by.
Raising his head, artificial blue eyes peered to the glass as he swirled the contents about gently. Sometimes it amazed him how limbs that could deliver the force of a jackhammer had been crafted to be so gentle as to not shatter the glass resting between his slender fingers.
Digressive thoughts of that nature could be held off though. Other priorities were on his mind right now—priorities that, perhaps, involved him attempting to get to the bottom of this bottle. It's flavors were delightful and brilliant enough—but he was also in no particular hurry either…