basement illegal gambling floor

@Kris Chanyeol stays where he is, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, staring at Yifan with a removed expression. Instead of listening like a good member, he looks down at his hands and proceeds to pick at his nails while praying to the gods that they grant him power for just one second so he can burst into flames and escape the nightmare of his life. He catches words and phrases of Yifan's lecture, though he doesn't even take the time to turn them over in his head before they fly out the other ear. This was like listening to a lecture at school again, sitting at a desk and watching the clock as the teacher drones on and on about whatever it is they're teaching and all you can do is bear with it and try not to get up and throw your desk through the windows next to you. The only person he ever really listens to is Jongin, and Yifan, despite his looming and dark appearance, isn't anywhere near the big boss' level in Chanyeol's mind. Calling him down proves to be a vain task, that much he figures when Yifan's back where he started ten minutes ago. "Oh, Yifan. Aren't you the dog on a scent?"

He sighs and places his hands by his side. "Well, let's settle that now. You have several associates printing fake money in a hotel basement and I take out ribs for a living." He smiles brightly, "The world seems to be going in a marvelous direction for our careers, isn't it?" Okay, maybe Chanyeol's the only one slacking off to the extent of hiding in bathrooms to catch a few extra winks of sleep but he isn't the only one passing cases around and taking shortcuts. Anyone stuck in a high-paying yet energy-sapping job would want to lie and cheat a little to get paid and go home. He's sure Yifan isn't any different but in a way, he has every right to act the way he is.

Paranoid as ever? Maybe so, Chanyeol muses. Even the severity of his own caution is escalating tenfold every day, to the point where sometimes even breathing spooks him because there might be some damned corrupt human that's out for his blood. In his eyes, those were the misfits, he doesn't even want to know all the strange trinkets they've developed specifically for EXO because some are either so immoral it would send the cathedral spiraling into flames, while there were some so stupid Chanyeol would probably be too busy laughing to be concerned. Either way, as unpleasant as it is for him, in order to stay in the loop and be aware of new dangers, he has to stay near the hotel even though some fellow members were so barbarous they were practically animals. But Chanyeol is wise and practically omniscient. He's seen almost everything that's happened to this petty little world, watched the sad monsters make or break themselves. He has observed and learned. But you don't need to be all-- knowing to know that in this world-- you trust no one. Yourself included, a lesson he's learned too well. And least of all, a perfect member's credibility. It's amusing how gang members who know they can't trust one another are still able to conduct business with each other. They replace trust with fear and the threat of violence. Because when you fall prey to errors, you become prey.

"So are you supposed to believe me?" A noticeable pause. "No, of course not!" Chanyeol laughs blithely, mirth glistening in his eyes. The situation is seemingly hilarious but Chanyeol's dead serious. "I'm a criminal. /We're/ criminals and criminals are notorious liars. Everything about me is a lie. But if anyone can give me a fourth chance, it's you." He says, staring unwaveringly at the young man. "Moving on, then." He takes a slow step forward, the length of his long legs making the stride far, putting only three feet between them now. "For this rare moment, I assure you I had nothing to do with lifting a few dimes and nickels. Though if you have any clue to who might've slipped their hand into our cookie jar, I am more than willing to help." He looks around, observing the first item that reaches his vision-- which is a fruit bowl in the corner.

He plucks one fruit off, rotating it in his hand. "Do I dare eat a peach? Might as well live dangerously."

@Chanyeol He wonders, sometimes, why Chanyeol sticks around. The other doesn't seem to very well like it here, at least from what Kris has seen. Maybe that's just a front, maybe he's just indifferent. Kris has never read too far into it simply because he's not interested. Whatever Chanyeol does isn't his business until it directly involves him - which means such a situation as this. He's caught the man a couple times before when stealing from the gambling funds. Usually to spend it on useless things like sweets or cheap toys as the discount store. Knock-offs that only serve the purpose of mindless entertainment targeted at a much younger generation. Kris supposes, that maybe the childish items are because of what Chanyeol does for the gang. It must be mentally tiring to torture others endlessly, but Kris wouldn't know (nor would he ever like to, thank you very much). The only reason he notices and ponders things like this is because it keeps him busy. Studying people gives Kris something to do, and if he learns something of value then that's just a prize without the extra effort.

Technically, Kris is always watching - the others, enemies, acquaintances. He keeps mental tabs on them for behavior and place so he can watch his step. His tracks are non-existent due to a process purely conducted by mind, though he wonders if they ever catch him staring. Kris is usually too zoned in on something to notice when others are watching him. His lack of personality seems to have people think him boring. Something they shouldn't waste their precious time on because there are other things so much more interesting. Kris is glad not to have any unwanted attention directed towards him. Unless he calls it to himself he just fades into the background. His musings are secret, and his secrets are safe - he hopes.

"Tch." His response is a simply click of the tongue, slight annoyance hinging on his jaw at Chanyeol's response. Childish, he thinks, though at one points Kris himself might have been that way. Maybe. All he does is wait, taking another swig from his bottle of water before Chanyeol is finally brought down to the basement by two of their guards. He allows the hint of a smirk to grace his features, if only to irritate the other before it disappears with the discussion about to take place. "Not really. I seem to recall that's more or less something you participate in." Or, make that snarky jabs from Chanyeol as he attempts to speak. Kris doesn't miss the word whispered under the other's breath but he could very well care less. A simply insult would do nothing more than disappear like smoke from his mind. Ignoring his next set of words Kris simply rounds the other side of the table while listening to him speak. He likes to listen, how his words form and what he'll say next. It's predictable.

"If we're talking business I'm sure you'd know the ramifications of failing to meet a desired quota of income from our customers." he smoothly replies, a bite on the edge of his tone as his hands wrap deftly on the edge of the table. Kris leans forward, the dim lighting above the pool table shading his face into something more serious. "There are no cameras in the basement to ensure our clients a safe gambling experience, otherwise we'd loose more than half them if they were installed. Guards line the walls but they always miss things - simply because they're guards and couldn't achieve a higher rank. No one can be expected at their post 24/7. Look at you. Down here in the ring instead of upstairs extracting secrets. If you really think I'm so incompetent at my job then you're more than welcome to do it yourself. I'm sure you'd manage just fine." His last two words were said slowly, carefully, and dripping with sarcasm. Kris is no stranger to fancy talking. "Now, if I were you, I'd tell me where the money is. Unless, of course, it really wasn't you and someone else has stolen from us." The last part is merely tacked onto the conversation, but Kris can't help wondering if maybe that's true. That someone got past their defenses and into the box - because if it wasn't Chanyeol then there's no telling who it could have been unless they left something behind, and even then things would erupt into chaos if anyone else were to find out that an unknown enemy breached their defenses. It was an almost absurd thought - almost.

@Kris Blowing off work is Chanyeol's number one use of his time. Sometimes he would make slow snow angels on the floor just outside of the elevator or nap in the lounge, effectively drooling all over and destroying one poor, defenseless magazine at a time. All the while, he would do his best to stay out of Jongin's radar, but being one of the more capable gang members would hopefully help him keep his job. Or maybe the reason he's always slacking off is for the sole purpose of getting beaten up one day after pulling something loud and elaborate. For now, he would stick with using all the staples in the stapler to hang up pictures of rainbows comprised of Sehun's face and researching the science of spontaneous combustion. He doesn't know the true reason as to why he took this position to begin with. Somewhere along the road, he has veered off the path of becoming a pyrotechnician and found passion in witnessing the largest crime figures in Korea blubber under his knife.

Now he's twenty-five and a valued member to EXO, but he guesses there is an upside to his misery. He's getting paid while doing next to nothing but rip out teeth and limbs every other day, after all. Today isn't unlike any other day. Chanyeol sits in the torture room, spinning around in his less-than-comfortable chair as he flips through a book he planned to use as a pillow within the next hour. He's gotten up at an ungodly hour this morning for no apparent reason and he has been sneaking in quick naps whenever he can. The opportunities has been few and far between, unfortunately, as he has a few senior gang members grilling his (ineffectively) today for some odd reason. Maybe an important case or something. Chanyeol isn't about to stick around long enough to find out. Getting up out of his chair and tucking his book under his arm, Chanyeol quickly logs out of his laptop before shutting it down and snapping it closed, resting his hands at the base of his back and arching, feeling his spine pop in various places. He sighs softly, abruptly standing up and preparing for his departure. Chanyeol only makes it to the bookshelves when his phone vibrates. He frowns, his eyes landing on the screen to one of the people he doesn't want to cross paths with at the moment.

Wu Yifan.

"Go home," he groans into the phone, which in return he is shoved into Kris' headquarters ten minutes later by one of their guards, swiftly closing the door behind Chanyeol as he attempts to regain his composure. "Is bothering people a hobby of yours?" he frowns as he adjusts his shirt, not-so-much voicing what's really going through his mind because Chanyeol, despite being blunt, actually sugarcoats quite a bit of his words. If he were to see something he utterly disliked, any comment really would make Chanyeol get jumped in one day. 'Hag,' he thinks darkly, nose wrinkling slightly in repulsion, unaware of how he may or may not just said that out loud. He has half a mind to turn around, to walk back home and pretend that he didn't have this conversation with the muse, because dammit, he has no patience for this. "Look-- I'm flattered you think I'm up to it, but clearly thieving is not my strongest suit." The last time he lifted one of the stashes was a month ago, totally and completely aware the next time he even dare lay a hand on EXO's financial inventory, he'd be the one strapped in the torture room. If Kris had the choice, he'd already be wringing the boy’s neck with his bare hands.

"Luckily, we have an ace of spades among us." He leans against one of the gambling tables, poking at one of the playing cards left on the surface. "Isn't that right, Kris? Considering you do run this place after all. Shouldn't you be aware of who comes in and out of your own room?" Chanyeol looks at the latter with a knowing smile. "Well, if we're only talking business here."

@Chanyeol It's the end of another game. Another few hours where people kissed their money goodbye and watched it disappear forever. Kris couldn't particularly say he felt sorry for them. After all, it was their own fault to gamble in the first place. A loss is a loss and the sore losers can complain at the entrance if they so choose. He doesn't have time to deal with unhappy customers as more and more line up to try their hand at duping the game master. While he may be a manager Kris thinks he's quite skilled at playing the game, if only from an objective point of view. However, the night is over this time. His post is to be taken up by another employee, which he greets as he pulls the money box from inside the table. After making sure they have their own he's off.

Private rooms line the staff hall as he makes his way down, footsteps padded by plush red carpet. Kris enters the last door on the right. It's a simple room, almost like the kind you'd see in a teacher's lounge, albeit much more sophisticated. He places the container of money on the table and immediately heads to the fridge, pulling out a simple bottle of water before settling onto the couch. Loosening his tie to suppress a formal appearance he simply rests. He's tired, enough not to continue his work right away.

However, always on the ball of things, Kris is getting back to his job just minutes later. He drags the tin to the edge of table. Setting his bottle next to the object he carefully unlocks it - up, up, down, up, click. Pushing the top back to peer into the box he sighs and grabs a notepad and calculator that had already been on the table. The silence of the room is only penetrated by the clack of calculator keys, scribbling pencil on paper and the wisp of money as its carefully stacked. By the time Kris finishes his equations he's unpleasantly surprised to find that the savings are less than what he'd made in the afternoon. He'd been collecting money into since the morning, so it only made sense to have more than he started with. It seems someone's tampered with the thing when he wasn't looking. Though he doesn't like to admit it Kris is used to this. After all, a certain someone is often dipping their hand into the group's savings, specifically the earnings Kris is able to garner from the gambling ring. He only had to catch him once to know it was him every time before and after that.

Usually not one to approach the others Kris is getting sick of these games. He puts the money back, as well as the calculator and notepad before crossing the room to the private phone line. Dialing the other's number he waits for the dial tone and click before speaking, not giving them the chance for greeting or question. "It was you again, wasn't it." he says, no longer asking like the times before. Now, it is merely a statement. "How much did you take this time? There's a hole in the sum larger than before. Just, get down here." With that he places the phone back in its receiver, returning to the couch and waiting. Kris isn't entirely sure if he'll come or not, but he hopes he has enough common sense to talk this out.