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Best to lighten things up with some booze. With some minor telekinesis (compared to the eldritch looking gas creature leaking out of you, this is child's play), you spread around several old bottles of booze you have towards your awaiting guests.
>-1 HIGH QUALITY WHISKEY, -ALL DUST CONTAIMATED LIQUOR
"Here. Sorry for the low quality of most of it but I don't drink on the job. I don't really keep the good stuff, you know?" You only drink socially, really. Nothing against it personally but since you work all the time, being drunk can be an issue real quick.
"Fair." Gangster A pops a cap off of one of the ancient, dusty liquor bottles. "We have had worse. Most of the liquor we drink barely qualifies. Like that shit Thomas makes." He jabs a thumb towards the Orange Eyed Gangster. Thomas, huh?
The S-Corpers take their time sharing the actual high quality whiskey. Frank is obviously annoyed HE isn't getting any. It's probably best to start the convo before he snaps. "So. Thomas, right?" <span class="mu-s">"whatsyourgoal"</span> "It's clear you're different from the others."
The two other Gangsters immediately tense up when they realize you're singling him out. "Hey, fuck off! He's one of us." "What right do you have to judge him, you FUCKING FR-"
[OVERCORRECTION] "W-woah, woah! She's not implying anything bad, guys!" Adam immediately begins to panic. "I-I mean, it's not like you're the only one with a-" His eyes shift back between you, Benedict, and Maruyama. "Well, she didn't mean-" It's clear he's trying his best here.
[DISARMING PRESENCE] "She's just curious." Maruyama politely smiles. "No need to take it the wrong way. We're fine dropping it if need be."
The two Gangsters are clearly still tense and wound up but Thomas brushes his two friends off. The S-Corpers are too busy enjoying their drinks to really pay attention.
"<span class="mu-s">To be remembered.</span> I think that's what we all want at the end of the day." Thomas' voice is low, quiet, and smooth. There's no hesitation in his tone as he begins to explain himself. "I was only ever interested in that bronze haired suitcase because I might be remembered if we got it."
"Remembered?" The Handler can't help but to scoff at what he's hearing. "That's it? Not money? Not power? Not even some corporate prestige."
"My friends might." Thomas takes another swig of dust-ruined liquor. He grimaces as he desperately chokes down the poor quality booze. "I don't care much myself. I think that's why people like me are drawn to it too. We want a legacy."
"Everyone wants a legacy, dipshit. It's just another form of being afraid of death, no?" Frank comments derisively. "Just don't be afraid of dying. There. No legacy needed."
"That's a very simple minded way of viewing it." Thomas doesn't bite at Frank's obvious jab. It's weird to hear a gangster of all people speak so, for a lack of a better word, calm? Collected? "It's not like I'm the only one. U-Corp also wants to be remembered."
That catches the Handler's attention. "Go on?"
