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I'm a frequent poster too. Look out we might take up a whole page if we start dialogues lol
LeoricAquila said
I like sawyer as well and I am a fan of constructive criticism. Ill make a point to edit the post in question and future posts. I used to aspire to being a writer... then life, wife and child snapped me into reality and said that I needed to do something more reliable. Im sure once time rolls over to the next day, jack will be a mostly different character. We will see. But I like writing him. Its new and different like my draxis character on the free boards... the conflict rp died but he was fun as he'll to write. But this will be just as fun I think
Like I said, the content is amusing, it was just hard to follow with the structure of one big paragraph. :) Nothing wrong with the content at all.
Edit: I saw you posted while I was writing, that one was structured MUCH better! :) I had to run back and edit a response to Sawyer in from Eulalie!
"Hello, I don't believe we've met. Name's Devin, and it's a pleasure to meet you, miss." She looked at Devin upon being spoken to, realizing he must not have been a prostitute after all.
"I am Mademoiselle Eulalie Bellerose," she said formally, "bonsoir." He was much cleaner looking, and not so crass, as the other American fellow. However, introductions could not continue further as Ellie began speaking once more, explaining names and the items for each person.
"Briar Rose," Eulalie tried the title in English, rolling the r's a little, then in French, "Eglantine...? Non, it's far too... pastoral. Briar Rose it is." She was talking to herself lightly, admiring the delicate tooling and settings in the book cover. Her English was French accented, but not quite so strongly as Red, as La Havre was a busy port city and she came in contact with so many British, Irish, and Scots that her English sounded slightly more English than would be typical further inland. Her French, however, was one hundred percent pure. And when she spoke German, it was a bit of a mess as she had learned the harsh language from a Frenchman. She didn't need it often, at least. She was snapped out of her thoughts by rising chatter and someone taking the liberty of patting her on the backside. She didn't care for that but tried to retain a calm demeanor. Others reached out and clasped her hand, nearly causing her to drop the little book. She set it down in her lap and tried to shake back more deliberately. How American.
"Unfortunately, we can't really celebrate. Merlin gave me a contract for you and requested we go immediately. So, head to your rooms and get ready, we leave as soon as possible." Ellie folded the piece of paper and put it in her pocket. Paul was crossing the room with the majority of Eulalie's luggage balanced carefully in his arms. "Eul--sorry, Rose. You can follow Paul and get something clean on."
Before she left, Sawyer caught her ear. “I’m sorry to have offended you, we’re mates in the guild and now team members, and maybe we’ll get a chance to take down some big baddies together… It’d be nice.” Eulalie was still wary of the man, but acquiesced and nodded in acknowledgement. She collected her book from her lap, rose, and muttered a "Pardon," to the strange group of people. Then she turned and swiftly walked after Paul. She followed the man to her room where he deposited her last trunk. He had the foresight to line them up against the wall and the foot of her bed, but they took up a fair amount of space. She would need to unpack into the wardrobe soon, lest she and Red be tripping about them all the time.
"Merci beaucoups." She said, shutting the door behind the departing giant. She turned the lock so she couldn't be walked in on, and went to open the larger drunk where she knew her clothes were. A mission, Ellie had said... Again, cursing that she lacked her maid, she took a key from her pocket and unlocked then opened the large rectangular trunk. It was lacquered black cedar with gold trimmings and hinges, the inside lid had a landscape painted by a not yet known Barbizon student named Corot. It was the more decorated trunk of the trio, and when traveling she always liked to look at the little painting. She sighed a little at the sight of the lavender fields in the painting, and went on poking through the box. Georgine had put it somewhere in here....
A moment of searching, then she removed a sturdily made riding habit in black tweed, first the trousers then the coat, and laid them on the bed. She set a white blouse with this, and also a leather chest plate she had commissioned after hearing from Snow what kind of use her skills would be put to. Lastly, new small clothes as she had been soaked through in the trip from the docks to the... guild... brothel... thing.
She quickly stripped out of the cold damp clothes and dried herself a bit with a towel she found in the wardrobe, and spotted a ewer on a bedside table that happened to have water in it. She washed her face, cleaning off all the ruined makeup. She took her time getting dressed, making sure everything was properly buttoned and neat. Her boots took a long time, with the row of buttons that climbed her calf. This, this is why Georgine was important! Damn them if they were feeling impatient.
Lastly she went to her smaller trunk, and removed a hatbox with a black lady's top hat plumed with a few white peacock feathers. She combed out her hair, which hung down to her waist in looping dark blond curls, and twice attempted and failed to place it in a bun on her head. She grit her teeth nearly ready to cry, trying to put up her hair while clasping a hand mirror between her knees for reference, and was growling in frustration by the time she finally had a decently set bun over which to pin her top hat. At the last minute, she added a gold broach to the neck of her blouse which bore the seal of the Bellerose family: a circle of thorns around a rose bloom.
"Enfin!!" she growled, setting aside her comb and mirror aside and checking herself once more. That took far too long, and she knew it. Finally she took a belt from her trunk with two holsters on it, and looped it around her waist. She removed the carrying case for her dueling pistols, and placed them into her holsters. Next she attached a leather purse to the belt with the tools to load the guns with powder and little round bullets. She placed the little grimoire inside too, so she could look over it when she had a moment. It was the first time she'd done all that for herself, even though it took nearly an hour, and she was rather proud of herself now. She decided against setting her face once more, as it would take far too much time alone to accomplish that deed and it was still rather wet outside. Thankfully, the rain had mostly stopped. She locked up her trunks, and made her way back to the tavern, nodding to Paul on her way out.
"I am Mademoiselle Eulalie Bellerose," she said formally, "bonsoir." He was much cleaner looking, and not so crass, as the other American fellow. However, introductions could not continue further as Ellie began speaking once more, explaining names and the items for each person.
"Briar Rose," Eulalie tried the title in English, rolling the r's a little, then in French, "Eglantine...? Non, it's far too... pastoral. Briar Rose it is." She was talking to herself lightly, admiring the delicate tooling and settings in the book cover. Her English was French accented, but not quite so strongly as Red, as La Havre was a busy port city and she came in contact with so many British, Irish, and Scots that her English sounded slightly more English than would be typical further inland. Her French, however, was one hundred percent pure. And when she spoke German, it was a bit of a mess as she had learned the harsh language from a Frenchman. She didn't need it often, at least. She was snapped out of her thoughts by rising chatter and someone taking the liberty of patting her on the backside. She didn't care for that but tried to retain a calm demeanor. Others reached out and clasped her hand, nearly causing her to drop the little book. She set it down in her lap and tried to shake back more deliberately. How American.
"Unfortunately, we can't really celebrate. Merlin gave me a contract for you and requested we go immediately. So, head to your rooms and get ready, we leave as soon as possible." Ellie folded the piece of paper and put it in her pocket. Paul was crossing the room with the majority of Eulalie's luggage balanced carefully in his arms. "Eul--sorry, Rose. You can follow Paul and get something clean on."
Before she left, Sawyer caught her ear. “I’m sorry to have offended you, we’re mates in the guild and now team members, and maybe we’ll get a chance to take down some big baddies together… It’d be nice.” Eulalie was still wary of the man, but acquiesced and nodded in acknowledgement. She collected her book from her lap, rose, and muttered a "Pardon," to the strange group of people. Then she turned and swiftly walked after Paul. She followed the man to her room where he deposited her last trunk. He had the foresight to line them up against the wall and the foot of her bed, but they took up a fair amount of space. She would need to unpack into the wardrobe soon, lest she and Red be tripping about them all the time.
"Merci beaucoups." She said, shutting the door behind the departing giant. She turned the lock so she couldn't be walked in on, and went to open the larger drunk where she knew her clothes were. A mission, Ellie had said... Again, cursing that she lacked her maid, she took a key from her pocket and unlocked then opened the large rectangular trunk. It was lacquered black cedar with gold trimmings and hinges, the inside lid had a landscape painted by a not yet known Barbizon student named Corot. It was the more decorated trunk of the trio, and when traveling she always liked to look at the little painting. She sighed a little at the sight of the lavender fields in the painting, and went on poking through the box. Georgine had put it somewhere in here....
A moment of searching, then she removed a sturdily made riding habit in black tweed, first the trousers then the coat, and laid them on the bed. She set a white blouse with this, and also a leather chest plate she had commissioned after hearing from Snow what kind of use her skills would be put to. Lastly, new small clothes as she had been soaked through in the trip from the docks to the... guild... brothel... thing.
She quickly stripped out of the cold damp clothes and dried herself a bit with a towel she found in the wardrobe, and spotted a ewer on a bedside table that happened to have water in it. She washed her face, cleaning off all the ruined makeup. She took her time getting dressed, making sure everything was properly buttoned and neat. Her boots took a long time, with the row of buttons that climbed her calf. This, this is why Georgine was important! Damn them if they were feeling impatient.
Lastly she went to her smaller trunk, and removed a hatbox with a black lady's top hat plumed with a few white peacock feathers. She combed out her hair, which hung down to her waist in looping dark blond curls, and twice attempted and failed to place it in a bun on her head. She grit her teeth nearly ready to cry, trying to put up her hair while clasping a hand mirror between her knees for reference, and was growling in frustration by the time she finally had a decently set bun over which to pin her top hat. At the last minute, she added a gold broach to the neck of her blouse which bore the seal of the Bellerose family: a circle of thorns around a rose bloom.
"Enfin!!" she growled, setting aside her comb and mirror aside and checking herself once more. That took far too long, and she knew it. Finally she took a belt from her trunk with two holsters on it, and looped it around her waist. She removed the carrying case for her dueling pistols, and placed them into her holsters. Next she attached a leather purse to the belt with the tools to load the guns with powder and little round bullets. She placed the little grimoire inside too, so she could look over it when she had a moment. It was the first time she'd done all that for herself, even though it took nearly an hour, and she was rather proud of herself now. She decided against setting her face once more, as it would take far too much time alone to accomplish that deed and it was still rather wet outside. Thankfully, the rain had mostly stopped. She locked up her trunks, and made her way back to the tavern, nodding to Paul on her way out.
I have a feeling if Maxine saw them they wouldn't have to call her over, she'd just come running like "OH HEY GUYS! :D"
Also, is the poor kid the only one with a car??? Mario could be walking the girls home(maybe he was originally with Olivia and someone else who left, then Max spotted them and came running?), and then as the UFO is landing, Jason and Iikka are riding by in Jason's mazda on the way to Jason's (because his mom is working at the diner so they are going to chill at his place without parents around), and he slams on the breaks and they get out because its a freakin UFO.
Also, is the poor kid the only one with a car??? Mario could be walking the girls home(maybe he was originally with Olivia and someone else who left, then Max spotted them and came running?), and then as the UFO is landing, Jason and Iikka are riding by in Jason's mazda on the way to Jason's (because his mom is working at the diner so they are going to chill at his place without parents around), and he slams on the breaks and they get out because its a freakin UFO.
Eulalie followed Ellie into the tavern with a stiff jaw and eyes hard with frustration. All she wanted was a bath, her things to be in her room so she could change, and her maid to aid her in the endeavor. She watched the 'Beast' person, if he was one, plop a drunkard into a seat, and was more than a little wary of taking the seat next to him that Ellie offered her. The drunkard was an awfully loud man and he stank to high heaven, mostly of alcohol. She resolved to sit, as she felt she really had no choice at the moment. When Ellie slid the little jeweled book her way, she hardly had a moment to look the gift over before he started yammering again.
"-give me a chance to woo you miss, and I’ll show you what a real American Man can do for you.”
Eulalie snapped to attention, her brow furrowed in annoyance.
"Ma chère cochon, je couperai les couilles." she said as sweetly as she could muster. She even batted her lashes lightly before turning her attention back to Ellie and the little book. He'd have no idea what she said, but anyone who spoke French would know the man risked being neutered.
At first she thought it was a Book of Hours, and wondered why she would be handed a prayer book of all things. It was the right size, fitting in her palm, with gilded pages and little gems set in the leather binding. Then she read the title. "Le Grimoire de la Belle au bois Dormant... but, this was lost!" she said, looking up at Ellie suspiciously. "Where did you get it?"
"-give me a chance to woo you miss, and I’ll show you what a real American Man can do for you.”
Eulalie snapped to attention, her brow furrowed in annoyance.
"Ma chère cochon, je couperai les couilles." she said as sweetly as she could muster. She even batted her lashes lightly before turning her attention back to Ellie and the little book. He'd have no idea what she said, but anyone who spoke French would know the man risked being neutered.
At first she thought it was a Book of Hours, and wondered why she would be handed a prayer book of all things. It was the right size, fitting in her palm, with gilded pages and little gems set in the leather binding. Then she read the title. "Le Grimoire de la Belle au bois Dormant... but, this was lost!" she said, looking up at Ellie suspiciously. "Where did you get it?"
OK, just remember its a small, fits in the palm, book. its supposed to have been a fae gift to the original sleeping beauty and would resemble a book of hours with illuminated pages.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Book_of_hours
Also, LeoricAquila, I liked your post but it was hard to follow the dialogue between several characters in a big blocky paragraph. I wouldn't bring it up in Casual but since we are in advanced, I am. Every time dialogue opens, it starts a new paragraph. For example:
should really write out more as:
A great, raucous laughter filled the brothel as Jack, Harry and Rebecca entered the den of debauchery together.
“Oh! And dear god, did you see his face?! He was all ‘Where’d all th’ cash go?’ While you’re running down the street with what musta been about a dozen sacks of cash and coin! I tell you Harry, if I didn't know you so well I’d say you were a master thief!” Jack burst out in laughter as he paraded his group of friends to the entrance to the Guild Hall.
“Evnin’ Paul, how about we catch a drink sometime, ‘ey old chum?” Jack spoke as he brushed off his drenched shoulders and shook his wet, shaggy hair. It was a great night, he was already drunk, alongside of his friends and he still had a fresh palm print across his cheek from his night of trying to snag a pretty girl into his bed for the night. “Ah, what’s the point, you never move too far from this door anyhow. You just be a good guard dog and watch for any miscreants, other than myself of course.” He loved to joke with Paul, loved to see how far he could push the man. Jack wondered how he’d fair in a bout of fisticuffs with the old brute, but then he remembered the last guy who tried and quickly straightened up.
“Well that’s enough of that, any word that I’ll be getting past you? Or does Snow still have that stick up her ass about me? Lovely gal, she… I’d love to get her between my sheets if you know what I mean. Don’t ya Paul? She’s a right beauty she is, and boy the things I’d do to her if I could just- Ahem… I got to be a professional, see; I’m part of this here esthabilshment and… oh my, Harry! Catch!” He shouted as he collapsed backwards into Harry’s waiting arms, laughing in his drunken stupor.
“Sorry for that Paul, Jack had a might have had too much of the whiskey tonight and may have had his block knocked off by a proper lady. Can we uh, get him to his room now? Becky, grab his damn legs already, he’s too heavy for me to drag around, the ass can’t seem to keep settled for one night after a successful ‘job’. I swear it’s like he thinks he’s some sort of genius.” Harry spoke as Rebecca moved around Harry to grab Jack’s legs.
“Yea, see, this is about where I want to see you, Becky. Right there. Right in between me… oh no…oh no… Oh!” Jack sputtered as he shook his head. “Alright that’s enough, the room is spinning and I’d like to get off. Harry! Rebecky! To my room! HYAH!” He shouted with a drunken laugh as Rebecca shook her head at his comments.
So that breaks up dialogues. Paragraph 2 is one dialogue statement, paragraph 3 has dialogue on both ends but they rather run through the same moment of speaking, so it works. Paragraph 4, he sort of moves on into another topic (Snow). 5 changes who is speaking and needs to be its own paragraph, and then it switches again at 6. So it breaks up that large paragraph and makes it easier to read and understand who is speaking. :) I hope I am not coming off as a bitch, I just had to speak up because I was struggling with following the dialogue. Which is a shame, because Sawyer is an amusing character!
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Book_of_hours
Also, LeoricAquila, I liked your post but it was hard to follow the dialogue between several characters in a big blocky paragraph. I wouldn't bring it up in Casual but since we are in advanced, I am. Every time dialogue opens, it starts a new paragraph. For example:
LeoricAquila said A great, raucous laughter filled the brothel as Jack, Harry and Rebecca entered the den of debauchery together. “Oh! And dear god, did you see his face?! He was all ‘Where’d all th’ cash go?’ While you’re running down the street with what musta been about a dozen sacks of cash and coin! I tell you Harry, if I didn’t know you so well I’d say you were a master thief!” Jack burst out in laughter as he paraded his group of friends to the entrance to the Guild Hall. “Evnin’ Paul, how about we catch a drink sometime, ‘ey old chum?” Jack spoke as he brushed off his drenched shoulders and shook his wet, shaggy hair. It was a great night, he was already drunk, alongside of his friends and he still had a fresh palm print across his cheek from his night of trying to snag a pretty girl into his bed for the night.“Ah, what’s the point, you never move too far from this door anyhow. You just be a good guard dog and watch for any miscreants, other than myself of course.”He loved to joke with Paul, loved to see how far he could push the man. Jack wondered how he’d fair in a bout of fisticuffs with the old brute, but then he remembered the last guy who tried and quickly straightened up. “Well that’s enough of that, any word that I’ll be getting past you? Or does Snow still have that stick up her ass about me? Lovely gal, she… I’d love to get her between my sheets if you know what I mean. Don’t ya Paul? She’s a right beauty she is, and boy the things I’d do to her if I could just- Ahem… I got to be a professional, see; I’m part of this here esthabilshment and… oh my, Harry! Catch!” He shouted as he collapsed backwards into Harry’s waiting arms, laughing in his drunken stupor. “Sorry for that Paul, Jack had a might have had too much of the whiskey tonight and may have had his block knocked off by a proper lady. Can we uh, get him to his room now? Becky, grab his damn legs already, he’s too heavy for me to drag around, the ass can’t seem to keep settled for one night after a successful ‘job’. I swear it’s like he thinks he’s some sort of genius.” Harry spoke as Rebecca moved around Harry to grab Jack’s legs. “Yea, see, this is about where I want to see you, Becky. Right there. Right in between me… oh no…oh no… Oh!” Jack sputtered as he shook his head. “Alright that’s enough, the room is spinning and I’d like to get off. Harry! Rebecky! To my room! HYAH!” He shouted with a drunken laugh as Rebecca shook her head at his comments.
should really write out more as:
A great, raucous laughter filled the brothel as Jack, Harry and Rebecca entered the den of debauchery together.
“Oh! And dear god, did you see his face?! He was all ‘Where’d all th’ cash go?’ While you’re running down the street with what musta been about a dozen sacks of cash and coin! I tell you Harry, if I didn't know you so well I’d say you were a master thief!” Jack burst out in laughter as he paraded his group of friends to the entrance to the Guild Hall.
“Evnin’ Paul, how about we catch a drink sometime, ‘ey old chum?” Jack spoke as he brushed off his drenched shoulders and shook his wet, shaggy hair. It was a great night, he was already drunk, alongside of his friends and he still had a fresh palm print across his cheek from his night of trying to snag a pretty girl into his bed for the night. “Ah, what’s the point, you never move too far from this door anyhow. You just be a good guard dog and watch for any miscreants, other than myself of course.” He loved to joke with Paul, loved to see how far he could push the man. Jack wondered how he’d fair in a bout of fisticuffs with the old brute, but then he remembered the last guy who tried and quickly straightened up.
“Well that’s enough of that, any word that I’ll be getting past you? Or does Snow still have that stick up her ass about me? Lovely gal, she… I’d love to get her between my sheets if you know what I mean. Don’t ya Paul? She’s a right beauty she is, and boy the things I’d do to her if I could just- Ahem… I got to be a professional, see; I’m part of this here esthabilshment and… oh my, Harry! Catch!” He shouted as he collapsed backwards into Harry’s waiting arms, laughing in his drunken stupor.
“Sorry for that Paul, Jack had a might have had too much of the whiskey tonight and may have had his block knocked off by a proper lady. Can we uh, get him to his room now? Becky, grab his damn legs already, he’s too heavy for me to drag around, the ass can’t seem to keep settled for one night after a successful ‘job’. I swear it’s like he thinks he’s some sort of genius.” Harry spoke as Rebecca moved around Harry to grab Jack’s legs.
“Yea, see, this is about where I want to see you, Becky. Right there. Right in between me… oh no…oh no… Oh!” Jack sputtered as he shook his head. “Alright that’s enough, the room is spinning and I’d like to get off. Harry! Rebecky! To my room! HYAH!” He shouted with a drunken laugh as Rebecca shook her head at his comments.
So that breaks up dialogues. Paragraph 2 is one dialogue statement, paragraph 3 has dialogue on both ends but they rather run through the same moment of speaking, so it works. Paragraph 4, he sort of moves on into another topic (Snow). 5 changes who is speaking and needs to be its own paragraph, and then it switches again at 6. So it breaks up that large paragraph and makes it easier to read and understand who is speaking. :) I hope I am not coming off as a bitch, I just had to speak up because I was struggling with following the dialogue. Which is a shame, because Sawyer is an amusing character!
Penny leaned back in her vintage La-Z-boy recliner, a large orange tabby sprawled across her lap rather obscuring her mid torso from view. Her lip curled up on the right as she regarded the trio of tattooed toughs on the other side of her desk. It was a very spartan office, with bare walls and a green lamp hanging from the ceiling that cast an absinthe-worthy pallor to the faces of the four people in the room. There were no windows, and only two doors: one on the right, and one on the left.
"You see boys, piss poor planning makes piss poor performance, as my daddy used to say. And what gets pissed on the most among you up & comers? Logistics. You can make the drugs, you can find the drugs, you can shoot each other over turf, but do you know how to get your shit from Peach Trees to, say, Beacon Hill without catching the eye of Judges, let alone rivals who will shoot you as quickly to take your stash? Nope." She nonchalantly scratched the purring cat behind the ears.
"What you need is a third party. Smugglers. Escrow. UP fucking S, if you will. We give you that, for a percentage. We operate a sophisticated network of discrete delivery men and women, whom in turn operate on a need to know basis. We have a 90% success rate, pending the occasional Judge. How many of your operations have gone without a hitch?" She regarded the leader of the trio squarely, and noticed a twitch in the brow that suggested memory of a recent failure. One of his buddies glanced away for a moment.
"Uh-huh..." she continued, pushing a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, "Look, for a fifteen percent cut, no more than you'd pay in taxes for a legit business operation, you can greatly increase your frequency of successful deliveries of goods and of funds. Up it to an agreement for a twenty percent cut and we'll insure your transaction entirely."
"Now, if you would like to engage in business, I will have you continue with my associate. If not, you may leave. Either way, you'll leave the same way you came in: blindfolded and transported. We'll take you back to that nice little park you started at. Peachy keen and none the worse for wear."
"We're in," the leader of the trio said gruffly. "Twenty percent. We've got slo-mo and - "
"Ah ah ah, not with me, darlin. With my sales associate. Think of me as... reception. I'll let The Captain know you're happy to work with us; he'll be terribly pleased.Through that door, to the left now. Ta ta." Penny raised her hand and gave a languid wiggle of her fingers as she looked down to the tablet she was reading on her desk. The toughs looked to one another, then shrugged and proceeded towards the door to the left as she tapped out a message on her tablet. As the door swung shut behind them in the next room, a spray of gas came from the ceiling over the toughs, knocking them out, and two of Penny's Pie Rats came to collect them and move them to another location to continue the business.
"...Just another day at the office, eh Captain?..." Penny mumbled, leaning down to snuggle her face against the cat's big head. The Captain kneaded his paws on her thigh contentedly.
"You see boys, piss poor planning makes piss poor performance, as my daddy used to say. And what gets pissed on the most among you up & comers? Logistics. You can make the drugs, you can find the drugs, you can shoot each other over turf, but do you know how to get your shit from Peach Trees to, say, Beacon Hill without catching the eye of Judges, let alone rivals who will shoot you as quickly to take your stash? Nope." She nonchalantly scratched the purring cat behind the ears.
"What you need is a third party. Smugglers. Escrow. UP fucking S, if you will. We give you that, for a percentage. We operate a sophisticated network of discrete delivery men and women, whom in turn operate on a need to know basis. We have a 90% success rate, pending the occasional Judge. How many of your operations have gone without a hitch?" She regarded the leader of the trio squarely, and noticed a twitch in the brow that suggested memory of a recent failure. One of his buddies glanced away for a moment.
"Uh-huh..." she continued, pushing a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, "Look, for a fifteen percent cut, no more than you'd pay in taxes for a legit business operation, you can greatly increase your frequency of successful deliveries of goods and of funds. Up it to an agreement for a twenty percent cut and we'll insure your transaction entirely."
"Now, if you would like to engage in business, I will have you continue with my associate. If not, you may leave. Either way, you'll leave the same way you came in: blindfolded and transported. We'll take you back to that nice little park you started at. Peachy keen and none the worse for wear."
"We're in," the leader of the trio said gruffly. "Twenty percent. We've got slo-mo and - "
"Ah ah ah, not with me, darlin. With my sales associate. Think of me as... reception. I'll let The Captain know you're happy to work with us; he'll be terribly pleased.Through that door, to the left now. Ta ta." Penny raised her hand and gave a languid wiggle of her fingers as she looked down to the tablet she was reading on her desk. The toughs looked to one another, then shrugged and proceeded towards the door to the left as she tapped out a message on her tablet. As the door swung shut behind them in the next room, a spray of gas came from the ceiling over the toughs, knocking them out, and two of Penny's Pie Rats came to collect them and move them to another location to continue the business.
"...Just another day at the office, eh Captain?..." Penny mumbled, leaning down to snuggle her face against the cat's big head. The Captain kneaded his paws on her thigh contentedly.
Penny leaned back in her vintage La-Z-boy recliner, a large orange tabby sprawled across her lap rather obscuring her mid torso from view. Her lip curled up on the right as she regarded the trio of tattooed toughs on the other side of her desk. It was a very spartan office, with bare walls and a green lamp hanging from the ceiling that cast an absinthe-worthy pallor to the faces of the four people in the room. There were no windows, and only two doors: one on the right, and one on the left.
"You see boys, piss poor planning makes piss poor performance, as my daddy used to say. And what gets pissed on the most among you up & comers? Logistics. You can make the drugs, you can find the drugs, you can shoot each other over turf, but do you know how to get your shit from Peach Trees to, say, Beacon Hill without catching the eye of Judges, let alone rivals who will shoot you as quickly to take your stash? Nope." She nonchalantly scratched the purring cat behind the ears.
"What you need is a third party. Smugglers. Escrow. UP fucking S, if you will. We give you that, for a percentage. We operate a sophisticated network of discrete delivery men and women, whom in turn operate on a need to know basis. We have a 90% success rate, pending the occasional Judge. How many of your operations have gone without a hitch?" She regarded the leader of the trio squarely, and noticed a twitch in the brow that suggested memory of a recent failure. One of his buddies glanced away for a moment.
"Uh-huh..." she continued, pushing a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, "Look, for a fifteen percent cut, no more than you'd pay in taxes for a legit business operation, you can greatly increase your frequency of successful deliveries of goods and of funds. Up it to an agreement for a twenty percent cut and we'll insure your transaction entirely."
"Now, if you would like to engage in business, I will have you continue with my associate. If not, you may leave. Either way, you'll leave the same way you came in: blindfolded and transported. We'll take you back to that nice little park you started at. Peachy keen and none the worse for wear."
"We're in," the leader of the trio said gruffly. "Twenty percent. We've got slo-mo and - "
"Ah ah ah, not with me, darlin. With my sales associate. Think of me as... reception. I'll let The Captain know you're happy to work with us; he'll be terribly pleased.Through that door, to the left now. Ta ta." Penny raised her hand and gave a languid wiggle of her fingers as she looked down to the tablet she was reading on her desk. The toughs looked to one another, then shrugged and proceeded towards the door to the left as she tapped out a message on her tablet. As the door swung shut behind them in the next room, a spray of gas came from the ceiling over the toughs, knocking them out, and two of Penny's Pie Rats came to collect them and move them to another location to continue the business.
"...Just another day at the office, eh Captain?..." Penny mumbled, leaning down to snuggle her face against the cat's big head. The Captain kneaded his paws on her thigh contentedly.
"You see boys, piss poor planning makes piss poor performance, as my daddy used to say. And what gets pissed on the most among you up & comers? Logistics. You can make the drugs, you can find the drugs, you can shoot each other over turf, but do you know how to get your shit from Peach Trees to, say, Beacon Hill without catching the eye of Judges, let alone rivals who will shoot you as quickly to take your stash? Nope." She nonchalantly scratched the purring cat behind the ears.
"What you need is a third party. Smugglers. Escrow. UP fucking S, if you will. We give you that, for a percentage. We operate a sophisticated network of discrete delivery men and women, whom in turn operate on a need to know basis. We have a 90% success rate, pending the occasional Judge. How many of your operations have gone without a hitch?" She regarded the leader of the trio squarely, and noticed a twitch in the brow that suggested memory of a recent failure. One of his buddies glanced away for a moment.
"Uh-huh..." she continued, pushing a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, "Look, for a fifteen percent cut, no more than you'd pay in taxes for a legit business operation, you can greatly increase your frequency of successful deliveries of goods and of funds. Up it to an agreement for a twenty percent cut and we'll insure your transaction entirely."
"Now, if you would like to engage in business, I will have you continue with my associate. If not, you may leave. Either way, you'll leave the same way you came in: blindfolded and transported. We'll take you back to that nice little park you started at. Peachy keen and none the worse for wear."
"We're in," the leader of the trio said gruffly. "Twenty percent. We've got slo-mo and - "
"Ah ah ah, not with me, darlin. With my sales associate. Think of me as... reception. I'll let The Captain know you're happy to work with us; he'll be terribly pleased.Through that door, to the left now. Ta ta." Penny raised her hand and gave a languid wiggle of her fingers as she looked down to the tablet she was reading on her desk. The toughs looked to one another, then shrugged and proceeded towards the door to the left as she tapped out a message on her tablet. As the door swung shut behind them in the next room, a spray of gas came from the ceiling over the toughs, knocking them out, and two of Penny's Pie Rats came to collect them and move them to another location to continue the business.
"...Just another day at the office, eh Captain?..." Penny mumbled, leaning down to snuggle her face against the cat's big head. The Captain kneaded his paws on her thigh contentedly.
What's your name?: ... Are you a cop?... Fine, it's Jason Bertrand.
How old are you?: 16
What do you look like?: My mom says I look like my dad. He was really lanky too. I have the same wiry hair, the same green eyes. We're both tall and skinny. But I only know that because its what mom says. I have a nose piercing. It's kind of symbolic. Bulls wear them, beasts of burden, and this is sort of like, being a beast of burden to the world. I put all of myself into my projects. I don't really expect others to do for me. My gramma would be rolling in her grave if I did. She used to talk about karma and being a good person rather than worrying about what religion is right, and that if you're good you'll be find no matter who's right. I like the simplicity in that.
Do you have any hobbies? Please feel free to discuss them here: I collect vinyl, I like to listen to music. I have a lot of records that belonged to my gramma and my mom when she was younger. When Gramma died I got her record player and her collection. That was something I always liked doing when I'd stay at her house while mom worked: she'd put music on most of the time. I like going to concerts. Sometimes I can get into the 18+ shows, it's the facial hair. I can grow a beard if I want to. Hasn't helped me buy beer yet, though. It's not worth the beard itch yet, so I tend to shave it off every so often. I like mosh pits. I also like driving fast. I bought a 2008 Mazda 3, it's not the best car, and the paint is peeling, but I could afford it. It has a nav system in the dash, which is cool, and it's black. I'd really like a Dodge Challenger but I needed something I could get for like 5 grand.
Any dislikes?: Traffic tickets. Being asked what college I want to go to. I also don't like to see people acting like jerks. There's enough of that, and I've got this one friend that can go a bit overboard on the aggression, Iikka, and I have to kind of reign him back a bit. I try to keep him out of juvie. Cops will really arrest you for doing stupid shit, you know? I see them coming to the trailer park pretty often, there's a few repeat offenders. One guy kept hitting his wife, and he's been arrested like three times. She looks like a mess now. So, like, I hate guys like that, and I don't want to see Iikka turn out that way.
Tell me, what are your goals for the future? Both immediate and long-term.: I might look into a trade school. Maybe welding. The job market really favors trades, not business degrees. Don't listen to the machine at school, college is for suckers. Right now I work at the hardware store on Main. They give me a discount on stuff, so I've been building up my tool collection at home, and I started getting into making furniture. It's not complicated stuff, but I made the shelves in the living room, and my bed frame. I'm making an iron work headboard for mom for her birthday, it's in the shop at school. I think its important to learn a lot of practical skills. Everyone thinks they're going to grow up and get a white collar job with a computer or something. The world doesn't work that way; things still have to be fabricated and crafted.
What's your home life like? Specifically, what is your relationship like with your parents?: I haven't seen my dad since I was in pre-school. My mom is a really controlling woman. I'm ready to move out. She drinks too much and thinks she's still 20 or something. I love her but she's maddening. It's just kind of frustrating because she's hung over a lot, and I feel like I have to check on her all the time and make sure she's ok. Actually, once I move out one day, I'll probably still be checking on her all the time...
Siblings?: I have an older half brother but I don't really know him. Mom and his mom aren't really friends and they stopped trying to keep my brother and I in touch when I was in like, sixth grade. He's Dad's "real" kid. So, screw all of them. It's fucked up to have a kid and act like he doesn't exist, right? Because he's always been like that. I think Dad was already married to his wife when I was born, so its not like he would have gotten together with my mom, and they all used to be friends until I came along and I guess I'm what ruined all that.
What's your favorite animal, and why?: That's a weird question... I guess a phoenix, because they rise from the ashes. I'd like to think that's my spirit animal, like native Americans talk about. Because no matter how far down I am coming from, I am going to rise. But you probably want real animals. Um... hawks are cool, there's a hawk living in the woods behind our trailer and I saw it swoop down and grab this rat, it was so tight! The rat never saw it coming!
Favorite color?: Teal. It's not blue, and it's not green. Take that, society!
You wake up late one night to discover that your house is burning down. What do you do?: Grab my two vinyl crates and get the hell out. I've got collector-worthy shit in there. Then I'd go around and break my mom's window and get her out. The bulk of the trailer is between our two rooms, I could get out my window and go around. If there was a fire, it'd be coming from near the front door. It's laid out like, Mom's room and bathroom, kitchen, living room, my bathroom and my room.
Finally, a tricky one; which came first, the chicken or the egg?: The amoeba. We had single celled organisms that reproduced by dividing long before we had egg-layers.
Hmmm... Jason's place in high school society...
Well, he lives in the trailer park with his mom, and his dad isn't around. He mentions a half brother he barely knows and hasn't seen since he was a kid. My thought is that the dad and his family live in another town, maybe at least an hour away, and his mom was some sort of one night stand gone awry, or a friend who made a mistake. His mom is also poor, and a bit of an alcoholic. I'm thinking she is a waitress. So Jason has a lot to face whenever he's home, so likely he's out. He works at the hardware store so would likely run into people downtown. His car is ugly (peeling paint et all) despite being not bad for 5k, so people would know it when they see it rolling down the street or parked outside a shop. Most of his clothes are thrift, he's all about resale shops and saving his pennies.
He likes music, he'd been seen at the music store or resale records/book shop looking for cheap entertainment. You might see him at concerts, especially rock/punk types of venues. He's unlikely to hang around the mall or expensive places. He'd be the kid that orders black coffee at Starbucks if he had to go to one. He doesn't play an instrument but he likes to sing along with songs he knows, and is actually pretty good at it.
He's good at hands-on stuff. He's interested in attending trade schools rather than college, so his extracurricular class would be Shop where he learns things like welding and carpentry as well as other skills that go towards building things. He's working on plans to turn his Mazda into an art car.
People don't treat him well because he's from the trailers, and he got used to it by junior high. He's been on the free lunch program as long as he's been in school. He's friendly enough to talk to, should you bother, but otherwise can be a bit of a loner focused on sketching plans for his car in the margins of his notebook. However, he'd be flattered to be asked about the drawings, and happy to join in on things he actually gets invited to (not that there's much.) He would have a hard time relating to people who have easy blessed lives.
Eulalie regarded the room dubiously. It was small. The beds were small. The room was small. She wondered how she'd fit her trunks in there. Everything was so plain, so brown. American. Quaker. And she was expected to endure all these things without her maid, and have a room mate? C’est des conneries! She crossed her arms defensively. She heard Ellie saying something about a library and reading everything twice, good for her.
"C'est bien." she said, though her voice did not sound like all was fine. She started entertaining the idea of buying a house for herself to live in. She could afford it. She was quickly losing the desire for conversation. She sighed. Planning other arrangements would take time.
"If my trunks can be brought in, I can unpack." she said, resigning herself for the time being. She had no idea where the trunks would go while she unpacked, and after she did so where she would store them. There must be a cellar. With rats in it. She would have to lock them up. One could be kept at the foot of the bed, for more storage. Lockable storage. Red, she is the help. Mon Dieu... I am in hell. She resolved to write to her parents and strongly protest her banishment.
"C'est bien." she said, though her voice did not sound like all was fine. She started entertaining the idea of buying a house for herself to live in. She could afford it. She was quickly losing the desire for conversation. She sighed. Planning other arrangements would take time.
"If my trunks can be brought in, I can unpack." she said, resigning herself for the time being. She had no idea where the trunks would go while she unpacked, and after she did so where she would store them. There must be a cellar. With rats in it. She would have to lock them up. One could be kept at the foot of the bed, for more storage. Lockable storage. Red, she is the help. Mon Dieu... I am in hell. She resolved to write to her parents and strongly protest her banishment.
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