Disorder looked at the large stack of paperwork. One task after another, endlessly towered on that long metal spike. A spike he'd debated ramming into various people at different points, as they came through his office door with more taxing news. There was a knock at the door. He could tell from the size of the blurred hand on the frosted glass and the flabby grease mark it left as it slapped, it was HighPitchEric. To date, Eric had yet to visit his office for anything of any relevance. It was invariably some food related question. Once it had been about the possible location of extra food stores. Another was a budget proposal for extra food. One more, the installation of private fridges in various bizarre places around the building. Disorder felt confident this visit would amount to nothing more than a call to Mrs_Doubtfire to clean the newly greased up window.

"Fuck off Eric..."

'WHY DADDY?... WAIT, HOW DID YOU KNOW IT WAS ME?'

"Is it in any way related to food?"

'NO... WELL... YES, I SUPPOSE SO, IN A WAY...'

"Bye Eric..."

This job came with its frustrations, there was no doubt about that. But he knew this. He also knew about the workload. It was all part of it. He'd accepted that when he accepted the role in the first place. Maybe he was just run down from all the training Fitz was putting him through. Every time Disorder walked into Fitz's office to address pressing business concerns, Fitz just grinned and started demanding press-ups or some other off the cuff exercise.

Its hard to talk about construction blueprints and union bribe rates when you are breathing heavy into an office carpet. He pondered this for a moment as he moved up and down and counted. At least he was only doing press-ups on this suspiciously sticky rug and not whatever it was he'd heard Scipio and Camp doing as he'd passed in the hallway. Some of the noises coming from them went way beyond anything normally associated with the physical act of love, some were quite unsettling. Disorder had tried to make peace with it on the basis that everything carried on as normal, no complaints were made and in fact, the lads in question seemed quite cheerful. 

Putting the day's most urgent matters into one small folder, he stood from his desk and headed across the hall to FitzChivalry's office. He gave a cursory knock and went inside. Any normal person would have been taken aback by what greeted him but he'd seen way too much to be shocked by this.

"Morning chief."

FitzChivalry was standing completely naked apart from a new pair of cowboy boots and a stetson. He stood proudly with one foot up on a chair, admiring both himself and his new boots. Two tailors busied themselves with tape measures, making awkward notes and masking horrified expressions. As they worked, Fitz flicked open a cigar box and bit the end of a large one. Firing it up he puffed happy clouds of thick smoke into the air and grinned at Disorder.

'Disorder! Just the man! What do you think?'

"...Its hard to put me feelings into words right now, boss."

Disorder glanced across the room. In the corner sat LuciusSweet who was picking little bits of poker dealer's face out of his gold rings. He looked up at Disorder and shrugged.

'I liked the boots, just wasn't sure about the swinger.'

Disorder smirked and looked back at Fitz who, as always, was completely impervious to any sort of criticism. Its as if he'd made his mind up at a very early age that he was physically perfect and nothing was going to shake that belief. Disorder had to admire this Napoleonic level of psychological fortitude. Fitz just grinned all the broader and rocked his hips back and forth a little to increase everyone's unavoidable awareness of his nudity. Fitz squinted through the cloud of Cuban cigar smoke at the folder in Disorder's hand.

'What's that then lad?'

Disorder looked at his overly proud employer. Keeping the folder tucked under his arm he smiled at Lucius and carefully backed out of the room as one would from a live mine. 

"Don't worry boss, I'll deal with it."

It had been shopping day, Fitz always enjoyed buying himself some freshly tailored garments, it was what kept him going. With the MGM Grand Casino still as busy as ever, he had to be keeping up the appearance of being important and only the latest and greatest in fashion would display such an appearance. On this particular day Fitz had ordered a couple of his usual tailors to drop by the office and knock something together, as usual LuciusSweet had stopped by to ask for some more credit at the Casino, when he had ran out of his own money the dealer at the casino had refused to provide Lucius with anymore credit. He was already a substantial amount into the Casino and despite it being owned by his own boss, they were weary about how Fitz would react if he found out his own guy was funding him self with the casino's credit.

After the two-time billionaire had finished with the dealer, his face resembled something you might see in one of HighPitchEric's burrito's. After that Lucius headed back to the office to see if Fitz would sort him out. As usual Fitz had declined, informing the youngster that it was down to him to get himself out of his troubles. At that point Curtis had entered, Fitz was in the nip (except for his new hat and boots) and Lucius was absentmindedly picking the remains of burrito face from of his rings. Fitz, seeking his right hand man's approval, asked what Disorder thought of his new look but clearly the man's mind was elsewhere, which lead Fitz to enquire about the folders his man had brought with him. 

Quickly dismissing the question, Fitz knew that he had chosen wisely with this guy. Not only was he officially one of the toughest mobsters in the country, he was also an extremely hard working individual who was always willing to do the work that Fitz couldn't be bothered to do, which was almost everything. The Farseers boss decided he'd need to repay his man somehow, maybe he'd get Camp to give him one of his famous Swedish massages, or HighPitchEric could name a sandwich after him but then Fitz had it. He'd buy Disorder his very own cowboy boots and stetson, that would make any man feel rewarded.

Fitz turned to the tailor who was currently measuring the inseem of his leg. "Hey you, Matt Gondano, see to it that you get a matching pair of boots and a stetson for my man Disorder there."