/lit/ - Literature

>>18412793
Thanks for the solid feedback! Here's my thoughts/questions on things. I'll let you all know when the chapter is updated all the way.

>Add more reactions to the bosses, magic
I can work that in. I'm glad that the magic comes across nicely. Trying to find a balance between "is this magic" and "Harry Potter sparkles" can be tricky sometimes.

>Spreadsheets are boring
I guess this is true, but I'm not sure how far to go. I feel like Amber wouldn't be given reign over anything too important yet as she has only been there a month and hasn't been fully initiated yet. The Boss does money laundering via his casinos. He helps Hack and Ma hide money made via black market dealing in exchange for a small cut and continued overall peace. Perhaps I could use this? Ideas welcome.

>The setting is too ornate
I based it loosely on some of the old office buildings I saw growing up. Glorious art decco monstrosities with literal marble walls and floors ornamented with brass and rich wood furniture. Made to impress. It's located in dug-out space beneath some warehouses, similar to the old opium dens. It took him years to get it done, but is made to last. It also follows the Bastard's rather flowery and delicate sense of style.

With this stuff in mind, does it make more sense or should I still tone it down more? I can try to add my reasoning in as Amber's observations in if it would help clarify for the readers.

>Amber being un-described is unnecessary
True. I'll have to work in more personality and have others react more to her.

> The son is a little cartoonish
You are right, though you'd be surprised what can get ignored in a city, especially down town. I went ahead and toned it down a little. Does this sound better?

>It must have been a good twenty minutes before the final party showed up. He was not quite as tall as the Boss, but he had the same jawline. The same sloping shoulders and catlike demeanor. The same skin tone, complete with a variety of tattoos peaking out from his collar line. This is where the comparisons stopped. His jeans and t-shirt were dirty and worn. I hoped that the red flecks along his arm and shirt were tomato sauce, but the bloodied blackjack in his hand said otherwise. His sneakers were scuffed and splattered with filth. Greasy blonde hair fell ragged around his shoulders. He seemed to be in his mid 20's.

>"Damn it, kiddo, couldn't ya have taken a shower at least?" grumbled Hack.

>The newcomer flopped into the chair next to me. "And miss the show?" He leaned back in his chair, rocking it onto it's hind legs. "With fresh meat to boot? Nope. I'm here. Now, can we light this candle?" he stretched and placed his arms behind his head. The smell of sweat mingling with other less than pleasant fluids was strong when he came in. Lifting his arms only made it much worse. I tried not to gag.