Vodka is spat in Boss's general direction when the guest realizes his mistake, but Yorick would never allow any endangerment to the Boss and shields the Boss with a hanging towel that was tucked under into his arm. Guards are snapped to attention from behind shadows and the outraged guest is blindfolded and escorted out the door, his affirmation recorded and taped. Boss crosses his legs and leans back in his leather chair, arms tucked behind his head when peace is restored.
"He'll be back in two days with backup. Prepare for an assault," he says nonchalantly, and a guard instantly dispatches orders into his cuff. Boss raises the dripping glass and takes a long sip, mewling contently like a kitten. "You rationed off the sugar, Yorkie," he comments, an eyebrow rising menacingly in Yorick's direction.
"Boss, your blood sugar level has been on the surge. We don't want our Boss stricken with diabetes," Yorick answers coolly.
Boss lets out an atypical whine and flops sideways on the armchair, kicking off his shoes and attacking his tie while he sips dejectedly at his lemonade. He complains about having to dress up in ties and suits for business.
"Why can't I go back to being anonymous like before?" he gripes, tossing his black tie and coat jacket over his chair. A guard rushes to catch the flying articles, amused by the Boss's familiar strange character.
Boss has always been like this: babyish and eccentric. He may act like a spoiled child, however, underneath all the quirks and spontaneity lies a brain, trained to perfection to read beyond the beneath. He's a mastermind who spends hours on end wiring the continuous clockwork in his mind to slow down into accessible plans. He controls so much but he could care less. He is at the top of the markets and economy, but he's bored with the usual chess game.
That's probably why he set up the meeting with the illegal aristocrat: to stir up some trouble the has already undoubtedly figured out with his powers of insight and deduction.
Yorick remembers the night he first met Boss, back in the days when he was a freelance assassin. Those were the days when he didn't have anything to live for, and nothing to lose.
There was a bad fall-out, an assignment gone wrong by a separate invasion and he had ended up on the brink of death with two bullets in each of his thighs, and everyone else piled up on the cold cobblestones of a dank alley. Yorick thought he was alone and that he was going to die under the moonlight.