#pretty sure i've read like ten vp fics where this could have been a prequel scene

[lu-sn]

The man tilts his head back leisurely, blows out a thick haze of smoke before leaning forwards and sliding a photograph across the low table.

"His name is Vegas," the man says. "Vegas Kornwit Theerapanyakul."

The boy sitting on the other side, who up until this moment has carried himself with an infuriatingly self-righteous air, blanches at the sound of the name. "You want me to take out a Theerapanyakul?" he hisses.

The man laughs, deep and full-bodied and condescending. "Believe me, kid," he says, gesturing at the photo with his cigar, "this one's gonna be real easy."

"He has recently, shall we say — fallen from grace," a smooth voice says from the darkened corner of the room. The woman standing there swirls the wine in her glass delicately, blood-red lips curving into a smile. "Stripped of his title, exiled from his mansion to a small apartment on the west side of the city. He's injured, too — multiple bullet wounds to the stomach, still in recovery. And his bodyguard count is pitiful."

The boy stares at the photograph of Vegas. The fire slowly returns to his eyes. "How many guards? Do you have their patrol schedule?"

The man passes him a folder, and the boy flicks through it rapidly. "Four guards in total. Their rotation puts two of them on the property at any time, but their coverage has lots of gaps." He nods at the floorplan that the boy is now scrutinizing. "Optimal entry points are marked on there, along with the time windows when they're most accessible. Your odds are best at night."

The boy grins. "Sounds easy." He looks up at the man, then glances over to the woman. His grin falters. "Is there a catch?"

The woman glides over, perches on the settee next to the man as she flicks another photograph between her fingers. "This might be the catch." She slides it over, rotates it to face the boy. "Pete Phongsakorn Saengtham. Vegas's boytoy of the month."

The boy snorts at the plain, placid-looking man in the photo. "So, not a threat."

"Not quite." The woman crosses her legs, rests an arm on her knee. "He's an ex-bodyguard. Used to work for the main branch of the Theerapanyakul family."

"Apparently Vegas rotates through men like tissues," the man sneers. "Uses them," he waves his hand aside, "and tosses them away. But his type is skinny twink, or overly fawning. Pete doesn't... quite match his MO."

"He's seduced other men away from the main branch before," the woman adds. "Never a bodyguard."

"He any good?" the boy asks.

"We don't think so." The woman purses her mouth. "He was guarding the main branch's castoff son. The invalid who never leaves the house. If he was of any use, he would have been guarding the real heir."

"Kill him if you need to," the man says boredly. "It's probably easier that way. Expect him to put up a fight, otherwise."

The boy nods sharply. "Understood."

The man looks at him for a long moment. Then he smirks. "You get this right, kid, and you're in."

The boy straightens up immediately. "Yeah?"

"Yep. Boss says so. You'll be family proper. This job's a big one, important client and all that."

The boy smiles wide, crazed with adrenaline. "I won't let you down, sir." He rockets up, drops into a deep bow.

"Good," the man hums. "Dismissed."

Once the boy leaves, the man turns to the woman. "Want to make a bet?"

The woman scoffs. "The kid's dead meat. You can't get me to bet on him." She sips at her wine. "No one's expecting him to pull it off."

"You think this Pete will be an issue?"

"If he's gullible enough to switch sides for a man? Not in the slightest." The woman leans back, self-satisfied. "But Vegas always has a trick up his sleeve. Time to find out what it is."