TIS I, A HUMBLE CAPITALIST.

[murderbaby]

WHO: Ilias, Darras, Mhavos, Silver
WHAT: Vacation in Nevarra.
WHEN: Honestly probably backdated, whoops.
WHERE: A warehouse in Nevarra.
NOTES: time is bad.

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[murderbaby]

Mhavos is sure he's felt pure, unbridled lust before now, but he can't remember when. It must have been a very long time ago. Which is good, because it means the memory is so distant it doesn't trigger the embarrassment that would invariably lead to a full-faced blush. His smile does grow warmer-- not predatory or hungry, just appreciative-- and he forgets to hide the way he's quite obviously looking at Ilias' forearms, not his work with the poker.

It takes about a heartbeat too long for Mhavos to snap back to himself. He raises a hand to his mouth, curled as though thinking, trying to hide the smile he can't quite rid himself of. His eyes carefully drift from Ilias.

It is overall an unsubtle display, but only if one is looking directly at Mhavos. He hopes above all that no one has been.

"Very- very good. Thank you, Speaker." He wants to call him Ilias. He worries that would be over-familiar at the moment.

[hornswoggle]

Is this a circumstance particular to Ilias? This is the second outing he's been on where Ilias elicited this same fraught emotion. John looks from Ilias to Mhavos, then turns his head to find Darras, who currently seems immune to the good Speaker's charms.

"Fine work indeed," John echoes as he leans forward, pulls the draw out to reveal it's contents. "And it seems it's yielded something worth our attention."

Hopefully it's what they need to achieve some results. It would be nice if at least of his outings were straightforward as pulling answers from a locked drawer.

[murderbaby]

"Yes- yes, thank you." Mhavos moves to compose himself-- there's still a warm feeling in his chest that he hopes isn't somehow luminously obvious-- taking a step forward to retrieve the ledger. He flips through it quickly, with the air of someone very accustomed to skimming tomes for the relevant nuggets of information.

"Here- here." He taps a page. "I will never understand why fraudulent financiers feel the need to keep record of it. One would think a criteria of criminality would be a good memory." He flips a few more pages, and his smile becomes the clever, curved thing of venal interest.

"Which is to say, this is perfectly legal, but politically problematic. They're supplying both sides."