Marcus looked up.
A small, clean, brightly lit restaurant stood in the middle of the street. Seeing its modest size, he felt slightly relieved. In Gotham, the bigger the business, the more shady it usually was. Smaller targets attracted less trouble.
"I'll warn you," Drake said quietly. "Donald isn't a simple man. The less you talk, the less likely you are to piss him off."
"Is he dangerous?"
"At the very least, the people behind him are."
They exchanged a few words, and Marcus's mind drifted. Back when he was in school, there were small shops near his route home places that never restocked, clerks glued to their phones, terrible service, barely any customers, sometimes not even turning on the lights.
Yet somehow, they stayed open for years. If this restaurant were like that, life would be easy.
The moment they walked in, Marcus's heart sank. Past the entrance, they turned into a gray corridor and met a beautiful blonde receptionist. She clearly had instructions from Donald, greeted them with a smile, and led them further inside.
Marcus knew nothing about restaurant design, but the artistic wallpaper alone gave him a bad feeling. Then they entered the main hall. Rows of elegant wine cabinets. Warm, subdued lighting. Minimalist yet refined wall patterns. Lush green plants. Well dressed guests dining gracefully.
"Classy. Really f***ing classy," Marcus muttered. "This is what you call a 'small restaurant'? Why isn't this in the Diamond District?"
"Otisburg has rich people too," Drake replied. "This place exists specifically for certain big shots. Don't overthink it just tell me if you want money."
"…"
The receptionist turned back and said politely, "Mr. Donald is waiting upstairs. Please follow me to his office."
At this point, no matter what Marcus wanted to say, the rule of 'we're already here' applied. Drake gave him a reassuring look and led him upstairs. At the top, black suited bodyguards lined the hallway, stepping aside politely.
Marcus felt his scalp tingle. This wasn't a low key place at all. This was a walking major incident background set. If Donald's gun weren't closer than any city wide disaster, Marcus would've bolted already.
He forced his thoughts back under control and followed Drake into the office. A solidly built, calm middle aged man in an expensive suit sat behind the desk. When he saw Drake, a faint smile appeared as he stood up.
"Drake. You look much better than a few months ago."
Drake had endured months of anxiety and suffering but Donald wasn't wrong. Since last night, the weight crushing his shoulders had vanished. The dark circles and thin face hadn't recovered yet, but his spirit was renewed.
"Yeah. I got lucky. My wife's illness is finally cured. In a while, I'll leave Gotham with her and return home."
Marcus wasn't sure if he imagined it, but he thought he saw a trace of envy and melancholy flicker in Donald's eyes.
"To spend your life with the one you love even in Metropolis, that's rare happiness. Congratulations, Drake."
"What's there to envy? I'm still broke," Drake laughed. "You're the real big shot. Your happiness is beyond my imagination."
"Me?" Donald lowered his head and smiled. "My parents were Gothamites. So am I. I'll stay here. I'm not going anywhere."
Sensing the mood shift, Drake pushed Marcus forward. "This is my friend the one I mentioned. Just arrived in Gotham. Doesn't know the city, and what he learned back home is useless here."
Donald's gaze turned cold again, returning to that unmistakable Gotham demeanor. He looked Marcus over carefully.
"What's your education?"
"College graduate. In China."
"?"
Both Donald and Drake looked at him. Marcus flushed slightly. "Don't look at me like that. The school's good doesn't mean I'm good."
Fair enough.
"What can you do?"
"I used to make a living writing… adult web fiction."
"?"
Drake shot him a look. You said you were a writer I assumed normal writing!
".…Not bad. Honest," Donald said.
"?"
Now both Marcus and Drake stared at Donald.
"Can you use a gun or a knife?"
"No. But I have one."
Marcus reached for his waist then realized how dangerous that looked and stopped.
"Good. Not stupid," Donald nodded. "How'd you get here today?"
"Bus."
"Guts are acceptable. Luck isn't terrible. But you need to learn to use a gun or you won't last in Gotham."
As Donald delivered one positive assessment after another, Marcus nearly lost it. Everyone who survives in Gotham is f***ed in the head.