If there was one place his writer could always afford to stick Donovan Connolly in, it was a random bar in Washington, DC. As said person, I can say with no sarcasm in my tone that it is the easiest setting to put the man in. Bars were the place he felt most at home. Dim lighting, a dank musty smell, and plenty of alcohol flowing was just what he needed to relax and not let the stress of his job or family life (which honestly, was the same thing) get to him. Today's choice of scenery was a fairly middle of the road bar, not too dank or gross, but something for the working class. There were no flowers on tables or lighting sconces, it was fairly bare in terms of decor. The entire interior was mostly dark wood panels, and the faint smell of smoke hung low in the air.

The blond Irishman was sitting on a stool at the bar, leaning on the wooden structure and ordering a beer. Unless it was a special occasion, he typically stuck to just beer. By drinking less alcoholic beverages he could stay at the bar for hours if he so desired. That was definitely a bonus in the man's eyes. His entire life seemed to be finding ways not to deal with people that annoyed him. And while it was quite possible that someone would show up here and piss him off, it was easy to punch them in the face or slam their head into a table. With blood relatives at least, it was a lot more difficult. While Donovan could yell to his heart's desire, that didn't necessarily mean that he could lay a hand on them. Well, Rory or possibly Morgan would be absolutely fine. But the reality of the situation was that alcohol was the man's escape, sad as it was.

So he sat with his beer. There was a football game on the television, and Donovan was keeping an eye on it. It, at least, was moving unlike the other patrons of the bar. Despite being the weekend apparently everyone here was only a step above comatose. Donovan didn't understand it, though it wasn't completely terrible; quiet and stationary was far better than loud and annoying at the very least.

Usually, on these nights, Fiona was at her brothel, even if she liked to find nicer terms for it that was the right term, working, and making sure everything ran smoothly. She knew she had business around this time, and business was always good. Dream sharing seemed to enhance the whole escort experience, and it made Fi's business better. She had smaller number of escorts who could take on many more clients than average. It meant that she and the escorts all made more money than usual. And if there was anything Fiona Connolly liked, it was making money.

She had a meeting with a man to set up an event with him. He had dragged her out of her work place for the night to a bar and hadn't even showed up. Fiona had left her brothel in good hands, with one of the men she worked with and trusted enough to run the brothel for the evening. But Fiona didn't like being strung about and this guy would certainly be receiving some sort of notification that she was not happy with him. She would decide on that later, but it wasn't going to nice. No one stood her up and didn't hear about it later.

Fi was annoyed and upset about this man bailing on her and really wanted to throw some shit and make a scene in general. But she had more class than that. She was already at the bar and had already had a drink, so she decided to stay. She looked around for a moment, ordering another drink, and her eyes landed on her dear nephew at the bar. After her drink arrived, she picked it up and moved next to him at the bar. "Don't you have anything better to do on a Saturday night than wasting your time at a bar?" she asked him, raising an eyebrow.

Let's get things straight right off the bat: the Connolly family was fucking weird. Donovan had never really been able to experience what other families were like, typical or mafia in nature, so perhaps they were not completely strange. However, he had the inkling that regardless, their family was different. It wasn't every day your brother turned down becoming the next don so that he could become a priest, but still dipped a hand into helping thanks to the requirement of family togetherness. He didn't see his aunt Fiona that often, but that was to be expected. Donovan was not a fan of the field of prostitution for his personal tastes. He saw the merit in it for some people, ugly people or extremely annoying people mostly. But he was a strapping young man who could shut the fuck up long enough to get a girl to come home with him without having to pay for her affection.

A familiar voice caused Donovan to turn and look as to who it was that was addressing him. An eyebrow quirked in surprise. He hadn't been expecting to see someone he knew, especially since he wasn't at an Irish bar. Donovan had the presence of mind to not only NOT pick Irish bars where he would be treated differently due to his standing in the community. He also liked varying where he went thanks to the fact that he had been known to sometimes start a fight or chew an employee out. Flip one table or break one chair over someone's head and suddenly people generally didn't want you coming back for some reason. It was as though his money was no longer good there or something. Idiots. But seeing a family member here only meant he would be calling it a short evening so long as she didn't decide this was a good night to get all caught up on things.

"I could ask you the same thing," he said with a snort. He and his aunt weren't particularly close, which was odd due to the fact that they were closer age-wise than Donny was to some of his own cousins. But Fiona held herself as a classy lady. And whilst this was not the common dive bar, it certainly didn't look as upper-crust as a place she might conduct herself. "Don't you have... whores or something to deal with?" he added with a smirk. Grabbing his beer Donovan took a long gulp of the dark brown liquid. "Or are you giving them a night off?"

Fiona could probably attribute her entire attitude and lifestyle to the fact she was raised in the Connolly family. Most of her need to get what she wanted and the fact she was spoiled and entitled was due to her importance in the neighborhood. No children ever challenged her or picked on her because if the family didn't respect the Connollys, they were certainly afraid of them. Fi guessed it was instilled in the kids from a young age, and none of that bothered her. And even now, people knew not to mess with Fiona. She was still tied tightly to her family and now she even had her own influence in certain circles.

Of course her presence here was questioned. Fiona usually stuck to her brothel or to classy bars, nice places. Fiona didn't go to sports bars or dive bars. She didn't need cheap alcohol or cheap men looking to pick up simple whores. Fiona liked men with class. And those men simply weren't found in crappy places. She also liked to surround herself in nicer environments. She only went to places, voluntarily, that were up to her standards, and she was a woman with very high standards. She was only in this place because her client had chosen. And he hadn't even shown up. Fiona was going to deal with that, and the more she thought of it, the more she was likely to be meaner in her dealing with it.

"I had some business to take care of here," Fiona shrugged. She didn't like when people spoke down to her because of her business. She was only serving to what people wanted. Men wanted sex, Fiona made it happen. And she made it happen discreetly for the people who needed discreetness. Important men who couldn't be known to be visiting a brothel. "I have someone else taking care of the escorts, thank you for caring so much about them though," she smirked at him. Fiona wouldn't give them a Saturday night off, nor would they want it. It was too good of a night for making money for anyone to want to take the night off. "Isn't your time more valuable than this dump? You're supposed to be important." Important people's time was always more valuable than unimportant people's. At least Fiona liked to believe that.

"Business huh? I could say the same thing about myself," he said with a smirk. He could say that, although it would very much be a lie. Donovan had lots of important things to do, but they did not last very long in the day and when it was over he had an excess of free time on his hands. And hell, he liked drinking. So he wasn't planning some great evil scheme at the moment. Was he the one now in charge of handling everything? He was a super man but, the hell, everything shouldn't be put onto his shoulders until he actually took over as the head of the family right? That was how it should work, anyway. But apparently he was just supposed to be doing everything now. Swanky.

"I'm sorry Aunt Fi, if I don't seem at all concerned about your whores. I'm not, so I could see how it could come off that way," he said with more than a mildly irritated tone. She knew that he, out of his entire family, was possibly the only one that did not appreciate Fiona's work. While whores had their place in the world, he had no idea why the hell he had to be involved with them in any way, shape or form. Certainly not because his aunt was the ringmaster in a brothel.

And in so far as this was a "dump", Donovan had been to much worse. By choice, never-the-less. The nicer the place, the more likely they were to make you pay for whatever it was you broke. And while Donny was not poorly off, he could not necessarily afford to be remodeling every establishment he frequented. He could be a generous man, but he certainly was not THAT generous. Then again, it was not as though his family knew that he was quite the bar fly. And by bar fly I of course mean borderline alcoholic. He liked drinking almost as much as he liked frequenting shoddy establishments and picking fights there.

"Just cause I'm in a bar doesn't make me any less important. And you being here should prove that to at least you. Though I could see why no one thinks you're important Auntie."

She didn't like his snarkiness, but it was something he'd have to learn to control. People didn't like leaders like that, but he'd learn. Fiona wasn't going to challenge the way he acted- she really had no reason to tell him to can it. Fiona would much rather just throw words right back at him. It was how things worked within in the family. When you were displeased with another family member, insults were all that could really be thrown. But that's all Fiona ever really had a taste for anyway.

"You should be a little more concerned with them. You know I use discretion in my business, so if you ever need a little something my escorts will be there for you." Fiona was aware he generally didn't have a problem getting women, but men with anger problems usually had problems at some point in their lives. And if anyone had anger problems, it was Donny. So if he ever did run into trouble in the love department, well her door was always open. She didn't judge the people who visited her establishment for a fun time.

A hint of anger flashed in her eyes as he called her unimportant. Fiona Connolly was a very proud woman and thought of herself as very important. Not only was she basically near the top of the Irish mafia, she ran a well-known escort business that any well-respected businessman had heard of if not used her services. "Darling, I think many people find me to be important, and if not me, then at least my business is. Though your importance has always been in question. You've never exactly seemed willing to take on the responsibility that will be passed down to you." She didn't need to explain her important to him. Anyone on the street knew it. But she was curious as to why he hadn't embraced his future more.

The good thing about being born Irish was that you could insult people and start fights, blaming it on your heritage. Like somehow being born Irish lent you to being more prone to outbursts or something of the sort. Donovan never quite understood that, but it worked for him as he chose to embrace the stereotypes thrust upon him. He could be loud and brash and drunk and disorderly and generally a dick, and most people could just say "aw well, he's Irish, whattya gonna do" and most importantly LEAVE if they didn't like it. Unknown to Fiona though, Donovan had absolutely no plans to change himself in any way, shape, or form just to please his family. He'd done enough for them all ready. He wasn't going to suck out and dry up his personality just so that they wouldn't get their panties in a bunch. That was simply the beauty of being Donovan. He couldn't do worse than anything that Rory or Seamus or Morgan or any other member of his family in the same generation all ready did. He hadn't forsaken the family for God, he hadn't boinked any men and he gave a damn about his position and job, and he certainly wasn't born a bastard. SO, whatever he did, he was still the best candidate to take over, despite being less than a pleasure to speak to. He got shit done, and didn't take crap from people making excuses if they couldn't get their shit done. He might not have been a savory fellow to deal with, but his results spoke for themselves. And THAT, really, was all that mattered.

"I assure you Auntie, I won't need your aid. Ever," he said sharply, clicking his tongue as he picked up his beer and knocked it back. Motioning to the bartender he shoved his glass slowly forward, indicating that he would like another one. So much for having a pleasant night out, anyway. It was going to be ruined with shop talk and discussion of whores, two things that Donovan SHOULD have liked much more than he actually did. There was something gross about the fact that sleeping with a whore meant you generally were sleeping with all their partners, which in this case was probably dozens of overweight balding businessmen. Bleck. Plus there was the little fact that, temper or not, Donovan was still extremely easy on the eyes. He knew well enough how to keep his mouth shut long enough for a quickie, if that was really what he wanted. Sex was not rocket science, after all. Or Rory wouldn't be able to have it.

He simply grinned and shook his head at the sound of his importance being called into question. "What'a load of shit," he said, bringing the fresh beer up to his lips and taking a long sip. Setting the glass down on the wooden bar surface he let out a long appreciative exhale. "Let's get things straight Fiona," his voice lowered in tone and tombre, softening as he did so. Blue eyes narrow as he turned back to look at the woman to his side, signs of his grin all but gone. "I know exactly how important I am in this family. And we both know that if you didn't think I could do the job, you would have told my father. Either you did, and he told you that you were fucking wrong... or you DO think I can do it and you're just trying to annoy me. Either way, you can go back to your house full of whores and have them wait on you, because I don't give a fuck about your so-called position. You're not in charge, and you never will be."

She shrugged it off. One day he would understand the need for whores. Fiona didn't like to think of it as a bad business. People just needed some love every now and again and didn't have the time to find a nice person for themselves, so Fiona provided them with a nice outlet. It was better than raping or torturing someone who didn't want it, so she couldn't see anything too bad with her business. She treated her employees well, paid them well and they seemed to like working for her. She tried to keep the mafia out of her day to day business and in general away from her brothel, though she allowed them to enjoy the girls. She just kept them out of the business side. She didn't want to gain a reputation for breaking her clients' kneecaps or anything of that sort. But Donny was still young and probably didn't understand how men didn't have the time or the looks to always get a girl, if only for a night. So Fiona was there to provide for them because she herself was more into men who had both the looks and money to spark her interest. But whore didn't care as long as they were paid, and they always were in her brothel.

But Donny wanted to get some things straight with her. Sometimes it was funny how much he thought he could control. Sure, he was going to be the don someday, when her brother passed it down to him and hopefully by then he would have some more experience and know a bit more about how things worked. Sometimes Fiona wished she could be in charge, only because she liked to be a leader. But she knew she wouldn't be able to hold the mafia in DC together. She was in charge of her whores and that was enough for her. The men could deal with the messier side of the family business, and Fiona would stick to her brothel, still making money for them. But his outburst put a small smile on her face. It seemed maybe he would be able to amount to something after all. "I am a little skeptical of your ability, but you're still young with time to mature. I wouldn't want to worry your father prematurely. And when you actually have something to say like you just did, you prove yourself to seem quite capable of being a leader. Though you still need to learn a little something about respect, especially for those that are older than yourself," she stated. Fiona didn't stand for any disrespect, but she was glad he was showing he could something other than start drunken fights.