[color=lightgray][center][h1][color=AFDCE0]Count Landon Monet[/color][/h1][/center] 
[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/UPaB895.png[/img][/center]

[color=AFDCE0]Time:[/color] 8pm
[color=AFDCE0]Location:[/color] The Gentlemen’s Grill and Cabaret 

[hr]

The lounge was dimly lit with the glow from crystal chandeliers casting a soft, warm light that reflected off polished silver and glass. The deep rumble of men’s voices filled the air that was thick with the intoxicating blend of fine cigars and the smoky aroma of aged whiskey. Their chatter became a low cacophony over the noise of shuffling card and clinking glasses. It was obvious to anyone who entered that this was a spot where only the most elite of society gathered.

At the far end of the room, the jazz band was bathed in soft, intimate light on the stage. The charismatic Louis Blanchet commands the stage as his velvety smooth voice caressed the ears of all.

Count Landon Monet, dressed impeccably in a tailored uniform adorned with subtle golden embroidery, stood poised by the bar, a glass of fine scotch in hand. His striking features, marked by sharp blue eyes and platinum blonde hair slicked back, commanded attention as many gravitated to situate themselves around them. He raised his glass to toast the room, his voice smooth yet carrying a trace of the underlying tension he harbored.

[color=AFDCE0]"To a night free from the emotional turmoils of our wives!"[/color] he declared, his toast met with chuckles and nods from the surrounding patrons. 

However, amidst the approving laughter, one voice cut sharply through the camaraderie.

A well-dressed gentleman from the corner, his expression masked in mock sympathy, raised his glass in return, his tone dripping with condescension. [color=gray]"Ah, Landon, always so quick to escape the 'emotional turmoils' as you call them,"[/color] he began, capturing the attention of those nearby. [color=gray]"Maybe that’s why you probably poisoned your dick of a father. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree as they say afterall!"[/color]

The room hushed momentarily, the weight of the words hanging in the air. Eyes turned towards Landon, watching keenly for his reaction to the pointed jab.

Count Landon Monet's face flushed a deep shade of red, his fists clenching at his sides. Landon's voice then boomed across the room, filled with barely contained fury.

[color=AFDCE0] “You think you know me?"[/color] Landon spat out, [color=AFDCE0]“Mention my father again, and it'll be the last thing you do. "[/color] He then added with a growl, [color=AFDCE0] “And don't you dare compare me to that man. I am nothing like him, and you'd do well to remember that!"[/color]

Turning his back on the stunned gentleman, Landon downed the rest of his drink in one harsh gulp, slamming the glass down on the bar with enough force to draw a sharp look from the bartender.

It was then he noticed Count Calbert Damien approaching, his bastard son in tow. Calbert moved toward him and placed a comforting hand on Landon's shoulder, [color=4C93C2] “Landon, take a moment, my friend,"[/color] He advised in a low, soothing tone, his expression one of genuine concern. [color=4C93C2] “Let's not give the night over to harsh words and tempers. Your guests are about to arrive and your grand event has just begun."[/color]

Turning his attention to the gathered crowd, Calbert raised his glass with a charismatic smile, instantly drawing the room's focus to him. [color=AFDCE0] “Gentlemen, let us remember why we are here—to enjoy an evening of good company and fine spirits. Let's lift our glasses to the many successes we share and those yet to come."[/color]

His words resonated throughout the room, easing the tension as men raised their drinks. Luckily, they were all already inebriated enough to go with the flow and probably wouldn’t even recall the outburst. Laughter and murmurs of agreement slowly replaced the earlier silence, as patrons returned to their conversations.

[color=AFDCE0] “Thank you… You always make it look so easy…”[/color] Landon murmured, his gaze shifting away as he leaned on the bar.

Calbert offered him a wry smile, [color=4C93C2] “There’s an art to it, my friend, and we all are adept at different things…”[/color] His voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, ensuring only Landon could hear his next words, yet he maintained his friendly demeanor despite the subtle threat.  [color=4C93C2] “Landon… Do not to forget yourself again. I have my son present with me tonight and I intend to ensure him an opportunity to build himself a foundation with the other nobility.  Present yourself with dignity. “[/color]

With a supportive pat on Landon's shoulder, Calbert stepped back.[color=4C93C2]"So how many tables did you acquire for this event?"[/color] 

The blonde man gazed at him and hesitated with his reply as he seemed to be still processing Calbert's prior remarks.  [color=AFDCE0] "I have three tables."[/color] He gestured to their roped-off section.  [color=AFDCE0] "I think I will go situate myself at one now."[/color]

[color=4C93C2]"Well. I'll go to another with my son, and we'll help keep things civil for you... Best of luck, Landon."[/color]  [/color]