Office Masquerade Party (for Misa Amane)

Maxwell Weiss was no stranger to the art of a good party, and it wasn't shocking that despite renting one of the larger hotel ballrooms the area it was bustling and the staff of barely dressed fairies he'd hired for the night were harried between maintaining the buffet and open bar as well as providing their special brand of entertainment for his guests.

It was a Halloween masquerade on a Friday night, all of his employees as well as those of his subsidiary companies and independent contractors were invited to attend in full costume for fine food, drinks, pretty girls, and treat bags that were entirely illegal in this country (and not just for the toys inside). He walked the floor between the bar and the stage where one of the bands he was backing financially was putting on a hell of a show - and then stepped out on the balcony to light a cigarette.

Leaning over the railing in his red and black silk with a black cigarette perched between his lips, he was wearing the only costume that suited what many people thought him to be: The Devil.

Evening with the Help (locked to Christine Chamberland)

Maxwell Weiss was a very busy man, and as such rarely had the time deal with affairs around his penthouse. And really, even if he did have the time he'd certainly find better ways to spend it than sweeping floors and ensuring he occasionally had a meal that was prepared at home specifically for him. Over the years, his secretaries had always kept his housekeeper - though he preferred the term 'domestic' - in the loop with his schedule, where he would be and when so that she always knew when he'd be home and if he'd be dining in and need his bar stocked with scotch and his favorite cigarettes. He wasn't aware of it, but when they could they also let him know if he was likely bringing home a girl and she should make herself scarce or if he'd be alone and Christine could be seen as she pleased.

In return for her service, she was welcome to a bedroom and free run of the home and her own very generous expense account for items needed or wanted. As much as he honestly expected out of them, he has always been quite kind when it came to taking care of his the girls that took care of him. It was a small price to pay to ensure he always had a clean home, a good meal, a massage and if he desired it, someone who wouldn't refuse him anything he needed. 

This girl, Christine, had been with him nearly a year - just long enough to get a good idea of his habits and peculiarities, and to be well aware of his expectations. And very well aware that when he breezed through the door and hung his coat in the hall he'd retire to his study and call for a scotch and a fresh pack of Sobranie black Russians. Particularly when he'd been out of town, a conference in Rio followed by three nights in London with his old school mates - one of which happened to be looking for money he wasn't going to get - and then a short day at the office. It was just after three when he walked into his study and stripped off his jacket, leaving it lie across a stray wingback near the door as he unbuttoned his waistcoat and loosened his tie. 

"Christine!" He called out, slinging himself down in the high-backed leather chair behind his desk without bothering to take his laptop out of the case just yet. "Are you in, love?"