Derek snorts at that, because subtlety and covertness have never really been Stiles' strong suits. He grips Stiles by the back of the neck and gives him a calming squeeze, letting his hand slide slowly down his back as the guy leads them through the bar. Sorry, speakeasy.
The place is mainly quiet, but it's obvious that they're gearing up for a busy night. It smells like sweaty bodies and saw dust, but mostly of liquor. It's strong enough to burn his nose as he inhales, but he does his best to ignore it. There's a guy dressed like Stiles tinkering with an old upright piano in the corner, sending random notes out to mingle with the sounds of the patrons.
They're led past the bar and down a dimly lit hallway. The noise is quieter back here, and the guy they're following raps three times on a door at the end. A deep voice beckons them in, and the guy, most likely taking in Stiles' age and clothes, puts a hand on his chest and tries to keep him out. Derek bites back a growl and puts a hand on Stiles' shoulder. "He stays with us."
"Henry, let them be. Come on in, boys!" Derek steps into the office first and turns to look at the slick, paunchy man sitting behind a massive mahogany desk. "Here, have a seat."
The man leans over to pour a bit of whiskey in three glasses, gesturing at them with his hand. "Quite the haul, boys. Can't say I'm regretting my choice to switch suppliers. Same deal next week, whaddya say?"
"Yeah, sure," Derek replies as he picks up his glass and sniffs at the amber liquid within. He doesn't plan on being here next week, and any other answer would be sure to cause trouble. Derek would very much like to avoid trouble. "Next week."
"Wonderful! Now, I'm sure I can count on you boys to keep quiet about all this. And give my regards to ol' Scarface, would ya?" Derek does his best to keep his expression neutral at that, but come on. Chicago? Scarface? He shares a look with Dean in which he tries to convey are we working for fucking Al Capone, and is distracted enough by the thump on the desk that he turns back just in time to see stacks of bills being slid in their direction. "Pleasure doin' business with you. Feel free to make use of my club while you're guests in our fair city."
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The place is mainly quiet, but it's obvious that they're gearing up for a busy night. It smells like sweaty bodies and saw dust, but mostly of liquor. It's strong enough to burn his nose as he inhales, but he does his best to ignore it. There's a guy dressed like Stiles tinkering with an old upright piano in the corner, sending random notes out to mingle with the sounds of the patrons.
They're led past the bar and down a dimly lit hallway. The noise is quieter back here, and the guy they're following raps three times on a door at the end. A deep voice beckons them in, and the guy, most likely taking in Stiles' age and clothes, puts a hand on his chest and tries to keep him out. Derek bites back a growl and puts a hand on Stiles' shoulder. "He stays with us."
"Henry, let them be. Come on in, boys!" Derek steps into the office first and turns to look at the slick, paunchy man sitting behind a massive mahogany desk. "Here, have a seat."
The man leans over to pour a bit of whiskey in three glasses, gesturing at them with his hand. "Quite the haul, boys. Can't say I'm regretting my choice to switch suppliers. Same deal next week, whaddya say?"
"Yeah, sure," Derek replies as he picks up his glass and sniffs at the amber liquid within. He doesn't plan on being here next week, and any other answer would be sure to cause trouble. Derek would very much like to avoid trouble. "Next week."
"Wonderful! Now, I'm sure I can count on you boys to keep quiet about all this. And give my regards to ol' Scarface, would ya?" Derek does his best to keep his expression neutral at that, but come on. Chicago? Scarface? He shares a look with Dean in which he tries to convey are we working for fucking Al Capone, and is distracted enough by the thump on the desk that he turns back just in time to see stacks of bills being slid in their direction. "Pleasure doin' business with you. Feel free to make use of my club while you're guests in our fair city."