The bright orange delivery vehicle pulled to a stop outside the boarded up Downtown building that Artie had earmarked as his own.  He stepped out of the passenger seat, even now he was not going to drive his own stuff here.

The front door was painted black, it had been red but that did not go with the general orange colour scheme he liked to employ.  The windows had boards over them that were starting to be removed revealing sparkling clean windows.

How long will that last Artie wondered.  He considered putting out an advert for a window cleaner.

As he opened the door, the smell of fresh paint almost knocked him over.  Jimmy the delivery driver followed him like an obedient spaniel.

This is my office.

He pointed to an office next door.

That is @Long_Island_Lolita’s and the one across the hallway is @Protoman’s.

Jimmy wArtie wandered further along to find a small kitchen area.  He could hear some clumping going on behind the door.  Opening it a fraction he heard some tones that sounded like swearing but in some indecipherable language.  He poked his head in to find @Tammy tidying up spilled soup when she should have been tidying the kitchen.

When you’re quite done Tammy, finishing here would be great.  We can get soup delivered.  We’re not in Seattle anymore.

Artie walked back to his office and sat in the chair behind the desk that had just been moved in.  He took a couple of mementos out of his pocket and placed them on the desk.  One was a picture he’d had taken of the opening night of Vesuvio’s, another was a framed menu to Joy’s opening night at her club and the last was the note Wednesday had written to him on the back of a napkin before he had started fighting in the Seven City boxing.  

That one would go in the drawer he thought.  He thought about the business interests he would try to retain in Seattle; the warehouse at the docks, the restaurant and the hanger at the airport.  All this travelling would be tough but he did like to get out and about.

As the rest of the stuff came in, Artie started drafting a letter.

Dear City Heads and all other crewleaders,

Thank you so much for allowing this little ramshackle enterprise to expand into Los Angeles.  This is an amazing honour; my door will always be open and the drinks cabinet well stocked.

May this fruitful relationship between all seven cities bear many years of prosperity and peace.

Artie

As the last of the boxes came into the building and light started to pour in through the windows, Artie took a pottery item from out of his drawer.  On it was marked Swear Jar.  Artie took a small pot of paint, scored through the words and painted LiLoL’s Shoe Allowance on it. 

He wandered through and put it in her office beside her desk before stuffing some $10 bills in it.

Now this was looking like a home.

John was sitting at the desk in his tent when a rider came flying into camp. They pulled on the reigns and slowed their horse in front of his tent before dismounting and running over to him with an outstretched hand. Within that hand was a letter from Artie_Bucco that had to do with his expansion out to Los Angeles. It was a quick departure for John since he had been in Seattle for only a short time in comparison to Artie, but he was sure it was a bittersweet goodbye for the man after working for so long in the city. 

Inside the desk was a bit of pen and paper that he decided to pull out in order to pen something back to the man. John wasn't the best with his words all the time or great at expressing how he was feeling, but he felt that it was right for him to answer and congratulate the man.

Artie,

I know we didn't get to work together for much time at all here in Seattle. I'll do my best to keep up what you and others before me worked to build while I help out 'ol Coltrane and company here. I wish you the best of luck out there in Los Angeles and that you succeed in rebuilding that city. You've got quite the venture ahead of you.

If you are ever in need of anything then feel free to get in touch or stop by my Saloon when you're in town. I'm sure you'll do well and we'll be seeing good things out of Los Angeles moving forward.

~John Marston

He folded the letter and placed it in an envelope before walking back over to the messenger, "You get this back to Artie down south in Los Angeles. Now go on! Get! Be quick about it too."

John handed the man the letter and a few dollars for his trouble.

"Artie Fucking Bucco."

The old man smiled from behind his newspaper on a bench, somewhere in New York City. He shook his head, lowering the publication for a moment to look across the streets of the city, thinking back to his first encounters with the man. It was grim circumstance really, a fine suitor to his daughter, Wednesday, who was cruelly snatched from the world after reuniting with Jack for only a brief moment. 

Mezzo's chuckle turned into a cough as he recalled sending then-Button Man Arturo Strigliori to Seattle. His mission was to follow and compile a dossier on the young Bucco, who was unknown at the time to the Philadelphia Don. It was all in preparation for Jack's meeting with him. The information returned to Jack was impressive and respectable, though, and he's come a long way since then. Artie had proved time and time again he was dedicated to this life and the traditions and people within it.

"Good for you, old friend."

Jack stood, folding the paper under his arm and stepping into the streets. 

The Bucco penned letter arrived at Hot Shots, instead of the Midas section of the Airport in Philly. Angel, the billiards parlor worker who'd been with Joe for what seemed like eons, wasn't about. She was in fact missing. So the letter itself was dumped onto a growing pile of to-do's that likely would never get seen to, as Joe just wasn't much of an administrative type.

Joe was already in LA. The city had changed drastically since he was there last. But one thing remained, and that was Joe and Ilaria's determination to make this new Midas Touch cocaine work. LA was where they had the production lines and where the bulk Yakuza product flew in on international flights. They city was the operations epicenter. For things to keep on the up and up he'd need to now also speak with Artie Bucco.

Word had spread to Joe and reached him just as he stepped into the Los Angeles Club. After taking care of a few things he'd make it a point to visit Artie and give his congratulations. The guy, in Joe's eyes, was at the forefront of business. He could only imagine the money he was making with Vesuvio. He'd give his best wishes and then seek to solidify their partnership to cover LA, as well as Seattle.