askkolathecourier (I’ll make this in 1958 before the fall - we can time skip if you want)
It had been a surprisingly quiet day in Rapture. The Splicers had only britaly murdered a /few/ people, the mysterious Atlas hadn’t done anything the whole day - even Sophia Lamb, down in her little prison area hadn’t been seen doing anything. Vincent had taken to sitting in a quiet corner of the safe Kashmir restaurant, sipping on a scotch. He hadn’t done much except gamble with a few old friends.