(OOC: Please forgive the grammatical errors. I will edit when I get to my computer. Currently on my phone.)
he figure arriving nearing the gate likely wasn't what many of those assembled had been expecting. A mansion such as this, with its property, with its recent and rushed renovation and refurbishment surely meant money ... lots of money. And with the exception of the few and far in between internet entrepreneurs who struck it rich with the latest social media craze, that kind of money surely meant and old, fat, white man who spent his days in a skyscraper office looking down upon Wall Street office or the smoke filled library of an exclusive fraternal organization or the deck of a two hundred foot yacht anchored in a Caribbean harbor
But the man who approached the gate looked to be anything but.
He looked to be in his 30s, was trim with the gait of an athlete, and could easily have been mistaken for anything from a hard rock lead vocalist to a down and out homeless meth addict. His clothing looked casual enough -- jeans and a thin button up shirt -- but upon closer inspection, the sharp eye would have seen they even this normal looking apparel was hand tailored and without brand labeling.
He stopped short of the gate and studied the gathered crowd for a long moment. Suddenly, without any apparent action from him, the gate came to life and began swinging out toward the crowd, which itself had slowly pushed forward for a better look at Millersburg's newest resident. When it had opened enough for the man to pass through, he moved forward, trading polite smiles and greetings with those not too shocked to show civility.
He stopped before a woman standing slightly apart from the others, wrapped against the night chill by frilly shawl that wafted in the slight breeze. He smiled, asking, "You own the diner, yes?"
She stared at him for a moment, then nodded and answered, "The late diner, yes."
Millersburg had only one diner, but it was now co-owned by two woman who once had been able to support their own individual businesses upon the paychecks of the now-gone industrial workers. One opened the doors early for breakfast while the other came in before noon and served the midday lunch and early evening dinner crowd. And each day the lights went off at 6pm when the town went dead for another quiet, unproductive night.
The man pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it to her, smiled, then turned around and very unceremoniously began making his way back up the hill, with the gate closing behind him again as if by magic.
Some of the crowd closed about the woman quickly, their questions flying quickly. She had already opened the envelope and withdrawn a sheet of paper, which one of the nearby men illuminated with the pen light he pulled from a pocket.
"What's it say?" someone called. "Read it. What is it?"
After a moment, she answered, "It's a request for me to cater a dinner here ... tomorrow night." She looked up, then lifted another piece of paper. "It says you're all invited ... and there's a check for $8,000."
The excited and confused exploded through the crowd, but even as it was happening the woman was back to reading by the illumination of the pen light. When her face filled with more surprise, someone near her called for the crowd's silence. The woman turned the paper toward the crowd as if they would be able to read in the dark. "And he wants to buy the diner ... for $50,000!"
(OOC: The female diner owner character is available, as is the morning diner operator/owner, whose gender has not been established.)
