The Gilded Rose was rather slow this evening, most of the usual customers had left port in the morning, and there were few travelers this time of year to partake of the forbidden fruits that were offered on the three tiers of the lavish building. The windows were all open, red curtains blowing in the gentle breeze as the ladies of the night sat around playing cards and idly talking with each other. Every so often a gentleman would come in and a girl would get up and walk back with him, leaving the window open as they passionately copulated, her moans and his groans echoing through the streets. The madam called it advertisment, though some found it... a bit less than tasteful. On the second floor, which catered to women and queer men, Fredrick Carlisle sat by one of the windows as he smoked an imported cigarette and sipped at some brandy. He pushed aside the red curtain and glanced down at the street, sighing as he watched a few drunk businessmen stumbling out of the bar across the way. He was bored... and was looking to damn good tonight to be sitting there not being admired. He was dressed to the nines, as always, his sharp black suit that perfectly matched his raven hair contrasting wonderfully with his white silken tie. He stood and stretched, flicking his cigarette out the window before letting the curtain drift closed and walked across the room to lounge on the couch, arms spread out across the back of the lavish leather furniture as he closed his eyes and tried to relax.