[Its time for the delivery!]

The Angel didn't like coming down to the docks. It was where shady characters did elicit business, covering their elicit business in the dark, hiding amongst the hard working laborers just trying to eke out a painful existence.

Warren didn't see himself as a criminal, didn't see what he provided as a crime. Prohibition was the crime. It wasn't the governments purview to tell people what they could put in their bodies. It wasn't in the governments capacity as lawmaker to control substances. Therefore, Warren provided what the government denied its people.

He didn't know Roman, though, had only been connected with the man through an intermediary, and they had been short on information regarding the man. So here he sat in the back seat of his car, fetching his pocket watch to see that it was nearly time for their meeting. Warren clicked the watch back shut, a few more minutes to wait, and enjoyed his cigar while he waited.

Roman drove his truck to the meeting place set up by one of his contacts to meet a prospective client. He supplied the few Speakeasies in Port Morris & Hunts Point but it was always good for a business - even one illicit as his - to expand.

He arrived and saw the car beyond in the dim lighting of the few light posts that made up the docks in this area. He stopped a short distance away from it, flashed the Truck's headlights twice to signal he had arrived and that it was indeed him and exited the vehicle. he walked half the distance to the car and waited.

He hoped his appearance would not discourage the prospective client - being 13 years old, he might think him not worthy of or responsible to be his supplier, but Roman's reputation spoke for itself, and his hope was that would outweigh any absence of adulthood.

When the headlights flashed across from him, his driver stepped out and went to the back door, opening the rear for Warren to step out of the car. He climbed out, buttoning up his suit jacket and straightening out his tie. Warren reached back in and snatched his cigar from the inlaid ashtray built into the back of the car. With his other hand he grabbed a hat, a homburg style hat of soft black fur felt with a red silk hatband ribbon. He placed it on his head and placed the cigar between his lips and looked across to the person that approached.

Warren shook his head. This had to be some sort of joke. His driver closed the door and climbed back into the drivers seat to allow his boss his privacy, keeping the engine running. The Angel stepped around the car and strode across to where the other had stopped halfway. "I was told that I would be meeting with Mister McKenzie. It's a little..." he searched for the right word, "insulting, that he would send a kid in his place and not take this meeting seriously." A faint trail of smoke trailed up from the cigar between  his lips, curling around the brim of the hat to dissipate slowly into the air coming in off the ocean.

"I dont blame your confusion", Roman said. His voice although young, bore the tone of authority with an accent that was not quite British but not typical American either. He did pose the unassuming teenager with his blue pants & grey shirt. He crossed his arms and continued speaking.

"I AM Roman McKenzie and ive been supplying the establishments in the South Bronx area faithfully and reliably for the past year. I understand you are looking for a supplier and i wish to expand my clientele now that the 18th Amendment has survived its repeal. My supply is a stable one and can give you whatever wine and spirits you desire or need with ample notice for a reasonable price - my age should pose as no barrier to these negotiations."

His cigar suddenly tasted bitterly in his mouth as an irritated look crossed his face. Warren reached up and took the cigar from his mouth and flicked it away. "Look kid," he said and took off his hat. "I'm sorry that someone wasted your time and made you come out here tonight to meet me. I am sure that you're good at what you do, otherwise you would not have been recommended to me. I'm sure that we could make a lot of money together." There was certainly a 'But' coming. Warren was trying to figure out the nicest way possible to put it. "This is a dangerous business, however, and I won't ask a child to take risks for me. Sorry kid." He shrugged and put his hat back up on his head. There would certainly be words with the man that had set Warren on this path this evening.

"Of course its a dangerous business", Roman said.

"I place myself in danger everytime im in the water making my way toward and coming from the Rum Line beyond the East River for my suppliers. You place yourself in danger opening up your place of business knowing the repercussions should you be caught...The risk is my own as is yours in this line of work and if you wish to end it here, that is of course your decision but before you go you must be aware of the increased demand for Canadian Whisky? Should your supply become less reliable, do not hesitate to reach out to me - the price will be high but it will be better and more reasonable than your current supplier when the cases start to be less frequent."

Roman nodded his farewell and turned to go. He had at least gave this Mr. Worthington an opportunity to reconsider if his current supplier does not come through - he did not fault the man for his bias of his lack of adulthood.

Warren watched as the kid, and that's what he was, a kid, started to walk away. He was surprised he hadn't taken visible offense to Warren's rebuff of his offer. "How on God's sweet earth do you get in to a line of work like this as young as you are? Why are you putting your neck on the line, risking the best years of your life behind bars for some booze?"

Roman stops and turns around to face Warren.

"Because the years prior have been one of neglect and poverty - i may be a child in your eyes but so were the Breaker Boys of the coal mines and those children - younger than i -  toiled like the adults before laws were enacted to stop the practice at the turn of the century. I worked the docks we stand on for the past two years running errands, shining shoes, making deliveries - whatever i could do to have enough money to fill my belly...It wasnt until i found an old sloop sunk in the Bronx River that changed my life and through hard work and the contacts i made here, i now successfully have a small but lucrative operation in this area that spans from Port Morris to Hunts Point. As for the danger of apprehension and incarceration, it is an occupational hazard of our line of work, Mr. Worthington - and they would have to catch me first."

Warren stood quietly and listened to the story relayed to him by Roman. It was certainly enormously different than Warren's own upbringing. He wasn't immediately sure that he wouldn't have made the same decisions if he had been in Roman's shoes. "Shining shoes and selling news papers is a far cry from running booze, outsmarting rival gangs, and evading the Feds." Though he felt like he could somewhat sympathize with the kid, there wasn't any way he could voice that opinion. "Why booze, though? If you've got the money to run a boat and pay for a crew and acquire the goods, why not do something legitimate?"

"I am an Illegal Immigrant, Mr. Worthington - i came to this country on a Tramp Steamer from Jamaica and before that i stowed away on a clipper ship out of London after running from an orphanage i lived all of my childhood...My whole life has not been 'Legitimate'. I hope to one day find out who i am and my true origins but until that day, this profession is the most lucrative and a means to an end."

Roman crossed his arms.

"So - do you wish to enter negotiations once more, or is this simple curiosity?"

Warren thought about it for a moment, perhaps honestly giving it a second thought. In the end, he just shook his head again. "Simple curiosity, I suppose. I guess everyone has their own reasons for taking risk." The Angel straightened his hat and then straightened his jacket as he started to walk back toward his vehicle. He snapped his fingers and his valet opened up the drivers door and stepped to the back of the car to open up the door for Warren. "If you want some help with your citizenship problem..." he paused at the rear of his car.

Roman nodded at Warren's final words and went to his truck. Turning on the ignition, he pondered the meeting seeing it not as a failure but getting to know a potential contact & buyer if misfortune should befall Warren's current supply of liquor and perhaps a man who would be willing to fund a potential venture as Roman was looking to expand his supply chain beyond Spirits.

He turned his truck away from the docks and back to the side streets that would take him back to his hidden base of operations along the Bronx River.