In this scene from Wulf, Luc has just learned that Wulf Gabriel called him from Batchelors, a restaurant/bar he'd helped friends Trink and Yvan open. Though a partial owner, Luc has never been to the location, and this is his first time stepping through the doors. The mention of Luc's eyes refers to his habit of wearing solid black contacts that cover his entire eye, giving people no hint as to where he's looking.
Alone, please. In the back...
Although Luc had loaned Trink and Yvan money for this place and been paid both early and handsomely for his trouble, he had never personally visited. Now, as he took in the manicured storefronts and immaculate streets, he saw why his advisors had promised the investment would return well. Ideal location for a restaurant. Less than a block from Tarth Technical College and its thousands of hungry students, right across the street from a tube train station and one block in either direction to both the Imperial and Kelthian business districts.
Inside on the left, a separate bar with dark leather. To the right sprawled a tasteful restaurant elegant enough for fine dining. Not full yet, but a lunch crowd was gathering. The faint scent of beef and onions made his stomach growl. Yvan's cooking still impressed.
A young woman in a crisp black and white suit greeted him. "Welcome to Batchelors, sir. May I seat you alone, or are you with a party?"
"Alone, please." He removed his dark glasses and tucked them into an inside pocket. "In the back."
The greeter's reaction was mild when she saw his eyes. Most flinched and averted their gaze, but she smiled. "This way, Mr. Saint-Cyr." She led him to a choice table at the rear.
It didn't surprise him that he'd been recognized. Through either the Thieves' Guild or Lucsondis and its various enterprises, he'd been at the forefront of the news on Tarth for a solid decade. And, after all, he was a part owner in the restaurant.
After taking his drink order, she activated the holographic menu on the table and left him alone.
Trink delivered the drink personally. "Your Kelthian whiskey, neat. Compliments of the house." He lowered the tray and his voice. "I was hoping you'd come. I didn't expect you this fast."
Luc indicated the opposite seat.
Trink slid into it. "Wulf made me promise I wouldn't get involved and that I wouldn't call you."
"I see." Luc tasted the whiskey. "This is excellent. What makes you think my visit here has anything to do with someone named Wulf?"
The man's eyebrows twisted in different directions. "I called your office seventeen minutes ago, said I was Wulf Gabriel, hung up, and here you are. First time I've seen you in two years."
Luc nodded in acknowledgment. "How do you know Wulf?"
"His agent suggested he attend our grand opening and he brought ten other models with him, a bunch of friends and one jackass lover who broke up with him right before we closed shop. Wulf was so torn up, Yvan and I took him upstairs and let him talk our ears off. He slept at our place for three days so he could avoid the guy. We've been tight ever since."
Luc stroked the lip of the highball glass. "Not that it's my business, but are you lovers?"
Trink brushed the backs of his fingers under his chin twice. Kelthian street people spoke in slang or with their hands. As the Harbinger, Luc had his own signals, well known on the street. This one meant "up yours" in the most polite sort of way.
"Why the call, Trink?"
"Wulf's in trouble."
Luc stilled himself, listening.
"When Yvan and I suggested he talk to you he smacked right out. Didn't know we knew you. Said he w—uh, well," Trink rubbed his neck. "Maybe you're better off not knowing what he said."
He decided against pushing for detail. "You thought I could help him."
"Yeah." He leaned one elbow on the table. "His agent's screwing him over. Agent's dad runs some kind of vid company Wulf wants to work for, but the guy won't hire him unless he signs with his son for five years. Agent threatened to blackball him. Ripped off his investments. Wulf's damn near broke, the way he tells it. I think there's more, but that's all he'd admit."
Luc sat back. "Any and all those things are easily remedied. If Wulf wants my help."
"Yeah, well..." Trink aligned two napkins with the infinite precision one gives to a task that delays the delivery of bad news. "He says you made him watch his father die."
The words struck like a blow to the chest. All these years and Wulf still didn't understand. He blew out a breath. "I'm sorry that's the way he remembers it."
"He didn't want me telling you any of this, but I can't stand to see a friend suffer."
Steepling his fingers, Luc sat back. "Can you get him to meet with me?"
"I'll talk to him. Not setting up anything he doesn't know about first. Just so we're clear—Yvan and I owe Wulf. He's brought us more business than we could hope to get on our own, just by showing up and bringing friends." Trink gestured around the room. "Our net worth is six times what it was when we first opened, 'cause of him. I know business. Yvan knows cooking. But Wulf—he knows people."
Luc would have to talk to his advisors about investing more. "Aside from all this—Have you and Yvan considered other locations?"
"Sure. But not at the expense of setting up Wulf, if that's what you're getting at."
"Certainly not. I know a bargain when I see one." Patting his fingertips together, Luc asked, "What made you decide to call?"
"Wulf made me promise not to talk to you, but I figured that meant he could. So if you thought it was him calling and you came here to see what he wanted..." He shrugged. "I could answer your questions and I wouldn't have called."
Luc toyed with the drink. "I appreciate your tactics but I would have kept your confidence."
"Yeah." Trink held the tray against his chest. "But I'd know that I called."
He lowered one brow. "You did call."
"Not technically."
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