"We wouldn't dare, we wouldn't dare!"
"Master Rockwell, please, you're giving us too much credit. In front of President Fairchild, we're just small fries."
"Come, come, President Fairchild, please have a seat."
Evan Fairchild sat in the seat of honor. The lighting was dim, his figure nearly swallowed by the shadows, but his dignified and inviolable aura was omnipresent.
"This place has a great ambiance!" Jasper Rockwell looked around. It wasn't divided into individual private rooms, but rather partitioned by plants. This made it less stuffy while still providing privacy, like sitting in the middle of a forest.
'No wonder they also call it an oxygen bar.'
Although it was a bar, it wasn't actually noisy.
There was just one lounge singer, humming a folk song along with the melodious music.
Several bottles of liquor were on the table. To properly host Evan Fairchild, the men had specifically ordered the most expensive alcohol in the house.
