The hotel was surrounded before any of the remaining Marigolds or patrons inside could escape. The patrons still left inside were to be arrested, as was the unfortunate Wes, who did not escape like the Savoys, and was to likely face harsh charges. And any grunts that happened to survive were likely to get similar treatment. But, the Savoys had escaped the premises and weren't spotted by anyone. They weren't seen in the days that followed, and it was entirely possible that they began to flee back down to Louisiana; no one quite knew.

Quickly, any remaining elements of the Maribel or its apparent empire were dismantled by the authorities. The scene of the hotel was crowded with bystanders looking on at the cleanup of the bloody crime scene, as well as with hotel guests who were suddenly shunted away. The mood of the scene was both one of chaos in the face of the throngs of confused people and grimness in the face of the many corpses and pools of cold blood. And though to the general public and to the authorities there was no knowledge of who was responsible for the massacre, there was still an overall feeling that the bootlegging threat in St. Louis had been vanquished.

It certainly felt that way to the police commissioner, whose primary target had indeed been the Marigolds. And with them now done with, he felt that the streets were safer— he'd done his job. And while most of the specifics regarding the Marigolds' collapse were unknown, commissioner Joseph felt that it didn't truly matter too much.

Eventually, after many days of not showing, the commissioner began the process of getting another agent of the Treasury into the city, mostly just for official purposes; there probably wouldn't be another threat like the Marigolds for at least a while. Joseph presumed that Dominic left town after the Marigolds collapsed— embarrassed and disgraced for his foolish hunches. Joseph presumed he would never really know for sure.

Upon the arrival of the new Treasurer, Drago's old office was cleaned out. Many of his files and folders were thrown out. Joseph made clear to the new Treasurer that they would have to serve some additional roles in the precinct in order for them to keep the office. And he concluded on behalf of the Treasurer that the only other known potential threat, the Lackadaisy, wouldn't be an issue for the time being.

At the Lackadaisy, business was booming. The stubborn or otherwise loyal patrons that had stayed with the Maribel to the end were left with few choices in terms of speakeasies, and a majority turned to the Lackadaisy, which had distributed dozens of pins, and was almost peddling more alcohol than they could get their hands on. By all accounts, they were more successful than in months— maybe more than ever.

Mitzi was working on a couple of pet projects though. One, of course, was getting Zib back. She'd already made some headway in her research, and it seemed that in a few days' time, she would be meeting with the people who would let Zib go, for a price. Especially given the speakeasy's success since the Marigolds' collapse, she was more than willing to make such a trade. Second, she was working on trying to launder the image of the Lackadaisy— the deaths of potentially hundreds of people in the city by her employee's hands was troublesome, and her conscience would prefer something to offset the negatives of her business. So, Mitzi went about doing whatever she could to improve the lives of her employees and the community at large; not to mention, it could help launder more than just the speakeasy's image.

So, in the days and weeks after the collapse of the Marigolds, Mitzi was extremely busy. More grunts were hired, to take the pressure off those loyal employees, and Mordecai, that had helped get the business to where it was. And in general, work was done to make sure that her husband's legacy would be one that not only continued, and not only thrived, but benefited those engaged in it. It almost felt like the good old days again.

And things were good for Mordecai and Rocky.

The deadbolt clunked open, and Mordecai twisted the door handle, pushing the door open. Behind him, Rocky once again stepped into Mordecai's tenement. He'd already spent a few nights here now, but spending the night with Mordecai still felt so new— so intimate. Mordecai struck a match and lit the few candles he'd left on the table to light up the pitch-black apartment. Though he knew it was futile, Rocky's hand went to the light switch and rocked it back and forth a few times. Still a couple of days before the utilities came back, probably. After lighting up the room sufficiently, Mordecai set his hat aside and began to remove his shoes.

Rocky sat down on the couch next to Mordecai and yawned. Mordecai glanced over for a moment, before looking back to what he was doing. "Tired?" he quietly asked.


"You didn't wake up early." Mordecai stood up and set his shoes by the door.

"It's still late, though."

"Yes." Mordecai cleared his throat. "Spending so much time in the Lackadaisy the past few months, I've had to become more of a night owl than I'd preferably like to be. Surely you've felt the same thing."

"No, yeah. Not enough, though, apparently."

"I'm quite surprised that I've ended up being more energetic than you."

"Yeah, well, we're sleeping in tomorrow, so…"

"I'm still getting up early." Mordecai began to slip off his coat.

"Come on," Rocky looked at Mordecai with a half-incredulous, half-pleading glance.

"...Slightly less early." Mordecai set his folded coat on the arm of the couch and he began to slip off his tie.

Rocky smiled with a tired look in his eyes. "There you go!"

"It will still be earlier than you get up. I'm not getting up at noon."

"What? I don't wake up at noon!"

"You would have if I hadn't woken you up when I stumbled over your shoes."


"Yes." Mordecai set his tie on top of the suit and started to unbutton his shirt.

Rocky stared up at Mordecai. He smirked and said, "You know, with you standing over me while you undress, it feels like you've got something more intimate than just sleeping in mind."

"Calm down, tramp," Mordecai quipped, "I'm just getting changed."

Rocky feigned offense for a moment. "I mean, if anyone's a tramp, it's the guy slowly unbuttoning his shirt in front of me."

"You've seen me without a shirt before." Mordecai nearly mumbled, "I haven't even taken my pants off yet."

"We were in Miss M.'s place last time."

"Cocky tonight, huh?" Mordecai unbuttoned the last button in his shirt and began to slip the shirt off. "And I thought you were tired."

"That was before you started stripping."

"At least wait until we're in bed before you make a fool of yourself, Romeo," Mordecai subtly smirked.

"When you're fully clothed again?" Rocky cocked an eyebrow.

Mordecai sniggered. "Just get changed." His hand went to the waistband of his pants. "We can talk then."