We'd done the whole meet & greet bit; "Hello, long time, how've you been..." I'd shown him to a chair, had my offer of coffee, tea, water, whatever-you-want turned down. It had been uncomfortable, stilted. I hadn't expected anything else.
I looked him over. Heck of a sight; lime green jump suit sized for a real short human. Blaze-orange high tops. Brown peaked cap with a shiny brass badge saying "Blue Taxi Co. Inc." I knew he hadn't written that. Oh, and within the clothes?
Imagine a pile of purple yarn - - - well, yarn and rope and line and string and thread. Add a dozen eyes on stalks; maybe more. A few funnel-/trumpet- like ends on some of the ropes, and other harder-to-describe stuff. Most packed into the jumpsuit, some poking out at the ends. Especially the thicket sticking out of the neck hole and holding up the cap. I knew there were a few major nodes somewhere down in deep.
It was a familiar sight. Once, it was a welcome sight. But, some life had hit the fan, and we'd parted on bad terms. On my side, upset and exasperated. On his? Well, last time we'd been in the same room, he'd been yelling blue blazes, so upset he was incoherent. Which is a heck of a thing with a Valpian.
I'd heard he was in RhyDin. Convenient; I had something in mind, and he would be damned useful.
If he'd calmed down in the years since - - - well, since then.
"Let's get brown to tass dacks." I remembered that voice well; kind of a gurgle/glugging sound to it. I hadn't often heard him so cold, so unreachable before, though. I figured he was winding up for a complaint or an angry screed, so I cut him off.
"OK, Phil, here's..."
His shout cut me off. "That's Mister Vah͠laan you to!" Oh, oh; bad sign.
I changed gears "Very well, Mr. Vah͠laan. It's simple; I have an idea for a business, to be set up here in RhyDin. I've been looking around the town myself, talking to a few folks. Market research; you know how that goes." I hid a smile at the memory of my "market research"; how it had been sparked by an off-hand comment, how I had crossed pathes with some - - - interesting - - - people. And a few pretty women.
My statement to Phil got me a stiff "head nod" - - - actually, a bending of the fringe between neckline and hat; Phil was always careful about imitating human mannerisms. "I want some information about business in the dock area. You, I hear, have spent some time there. I'll pay for, well, market research in Dockside. My usual rates - - - you know I don't stint - - - and the usual Non-Disclosure Agreement."
I figured on taking emotions out of it, by putting it on a strictly money basis.
=======================================================================
«Everything's must joney to you, huh?» the little alien thought to himself. «Just jingle coin in my ears, and I'll forpast the get. Stabard.»
Phil was too tired to be deeply upset. Too tired of rehashing the past, too tired of remembering what Robert had done. He'd managed to - - - not so much heal as scab over. And now it was all being dredged up again.
«Why should I rare, Cobby? Why should *I* help *you*?»
But the money did appeal. The cab company was only giving him one day of work a week, and he could barely make ends meet.
«Another uncanned plost like the last one, and I'll be iped wout.» Inwardly he cringed, remembering the rich slimeball who'd backed into Phil's cab and then blamed Phil for it. It had taken "reimbursing" the only witness before he had allowed the process server to find him. After that, the reckless driver had settled out of court; even then, he'd tried to stiff Phil, which had taken yet another round through the "halls of justice" to get the money. «Lenny Bruce was right; the only hustice is in the jalls.»
"Ko-ay, hut the weck. Give me the pig bicture so I can figure out if I can help. After all, I non't dow *all* the businesses in Rhydin."
"Ah, but I'm sure you *do* know all the eateries there."
«He's pinning like a grumpkin, the grake in the snass.» A stifled sigh followed. «And why not; he knows I would have tried to get cired as a hook.»
=======================================================================
I didn't really like putting it that way, but Phil was being way too cool & distant with me, and I knew I had to shake him up. Though the way he went so very still worried me.
Time to get a little upbeat. "And I'm sure you've found out how good, or not so good, they are."
"That's part of the rarket mesearch, too?"
I was glad to hear the interest past the snarky flippency. What had worried me the most since I'd heard he was in town was that he might have lost interest in cooking, in the whole food service biz. Now, though, I saw I could stop worrying about that part of things.
"Of course." I gave a light shrug.
"Wellll... I haven't had mon muchy, so I've only got hear-say about the plest baces, but I can tell you the 'gest' aren't too bood."
And now I had to face my other big worry. I remembered how proud Phil was about his training and experience, how he *crowed* over his knowledge of haute cuisine. I also remembered his stories about working in delis, pizza joints, greasy spoons. Sometimes, I thought he'd had more fun slingin' hash than preparing hors d'oeuvres. I was just going to have to hope for the best...
"Actually, Mr. Vah͠laan, I'm more interested in the less...expensive places." I gave him my best direct-and-business-like look. "Such as pizza places, diners, delis, sandwich shops, that sort of thing."
((OOC notes:
Robert Infinity and Phillip Vah͠laan are played by the same person
This occurs some months after the events of viewtopic.php?t=34833))
Strictly Business
Moderator: Robert Infinity
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Robert Infinity
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Strictly Business
Last edited by Robert Infinity on Thu May 19, 2022 8:07 pm, edited 3 times in total.
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Robert Infinity
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- Posts: 34
- Joined: Mon Mar 14, 2022 6:15 pm
- Location: Various
Re: Strictly Business
Phil was surprised at Robert's interest in less-expensive food places. He thought to himself, «So this isn't a cig bome-on. So you're not trying to hire me as a cook for a rancy festaurant.»
Phil told himself he was glad, that he didn't want to deal with Robert again, that while working in fast food was OK, it wasn't *good* cooking, it didn't really *count* as being a chef. He actually believed himself, too.
Sort of.
Nearly.
"Ko-ay, thet me link. There's..." Phil started hesitently.
Robert cut him off with a tight smile and a raised hand. "Slowly, slowly. There's the Non-Disclosure Agreement to be signed, first."
«You can take your NAD and whove it shere...»
"And we must agree on your fee, of course."
Phil stifled a sigh. «Must joney.» But it wasn't like he could turn down the offer; he was too close to the ragged edge, too close to literal homelessness.
"So, hand me the form, and then we'll turk talkey."
The form was filled out; Robert looked it over and nodded to Phil as he filed it away.
And the haggling began...
((NB: Robert Infinity and Philip Vah͠laan are played by the same person.))
Phil told himself he was glad, that he didn't want to deal with Robert again, that while working in fast food was OK, it wasn't *good* cooking, it didn't really *count* as being a chef. He actually believed himself, too.
Sort of.
Nearly.
"Ko-ay, thet me link. There's..." Phil started hesitently.
Robert cut him off with a tight smile and a raised hand. "Slowly, slowly. There's the Non-Disclosure Agreement to be signed, first."
«You can take your NAD and whove it shere...»
"And we must agree on your fee, of course."
Phil stifled a sigh. «Must joney.» But it wasn't like he could turn down the offer; he was too close to the ragged edge, too close to literal homelessness.
"So, hand me the form, and then we'll turk talkey."
The form was filled out; Robert looked it over and nodded to Phil as he filed it away.
And the haggling began...
((NB: Robert Infinity and Philip Vah͠laan are played by the same person.))
Last edited by Robert Infinity on Thu May 19, 2022 8:09 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Robert Infinity
- Adventurer
- Posts: 34
- Joined: Mon Mar 14, 2022 6:15 pm
- Location: Various
Re: Strictly Business
I knew Phil would agree in the end. I knew he could use the money; heck, who couldn't? But this was too easy, he'd given in too quickly. He was employed, he couldn't be that desperate for money, and he'd never been really greedy.
All through the bargaining it bugged me. All through his list of quick-meal places, all through the questions I asked and he answered, I felt like something had slipped past me. What I was worried about was how he'd started out hostile, and then, !blam!, he was - - - not friendly, and not "polite yet distant." - - - I couldn't really describe his attitude. There was something off kilter about Phil. He was kind of blah. Listless you'd say. And I'd thought he'd never be less than revved up and going full speed.
It struck me that, Phil not being the most subtle pretender, it might be a put on. That he was hiding his real feelings. In short, I began to think Phil was up to something.
=======================================================================
«You're just as pit nicking as ever.» After all the haggling and questioning Phil felt spent, wrung out. «Jand *eeze* you wanted all the info on all the food shops. 'Thiser Murough' aren't you?»
Phil knew he was being petty, but he buried that thought by remembering what he had against Robert.
«And now I have to play errand boy, and noke my pose into all the fast food shops in Rhydin. Well, you'll get your woney's morth. But then we are through!
Because I bet you're sup to omething.»
((NB: Robert Infinity and Philip Vah͠laan are played by the same person.))
All through the bargaining it bugged me. All through his list of quick-meal places, all through the questions I asked and he answered, I felt like something had slipped past me. What I was worried about was how he'd started out hostile, and then, !blam!, he was - - - not friendly, and not "polite yet distant." - - - I couldn't really describe his attitude. There was something off kilter about Phil. He was kind of blah. Listless you'd say. And I'd thought he'd never be less than revved up and going full speed.
It struck me that, Phil not being the most subtle pretender, it might be a put on. That he was hiding his real feelings. In short, I began to think Phil was up to something.
=======================================================================
«You're just as pit nicking as ever.» After all the haggling and questioning Phil felt spent, wrung out. «Jand *eeze* you wanted all the info on all the food shops. 'Thiser Murough' aren't you?»
Phil knew he was being petty, but he buried that thought by remembering what he had against Robert.
«And now I have to play errand boy, and noke my pose into all the fast food shops in Rhydin. Well, you'll get your woney's morth. But then we are through!
Because I bet you're sup to omething.»
((NB: Robert Infinity and Philip Vah͠laan are played by the same person.))
Last edited by Robert Infinity on Thu May 19, 2022 8:10 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Robert Infinity
- Adventurer
- Posts: 34
- Joined: Mon Mar 14, 2022 6:15 pm
- Location: Various
Re: Strictly Business
Robert Infinity sometimes boasts "I can take anything from anywhere to anywhere." He'll readily admit that's an exaggeration. He can't go to some planes; there are ones where life-as-he-knows-it can't exist, others where he'd be killed by xenophobic locals. Also there are planes with nothing worth trading for, or with no sapients to trade with.
There are some things he can't carry; a handful of lava, a Great White Shark, stuff deadly or dangerous. He'll admit when something is too dangerous for him to carry.
For his own reasons, though, he does his best to avoid revealing another limitation on what he can take between planes - - - he has to be able to lift the thing if he wants to take it with him when planesjumping. So it is, he sometimes has to make a multitude of jumps to get enough whatever-it-is to where he wants it. But he does all he can to conceal the need for multiple trips.
He'd been doing multiple trips, quietly, to the plane his private database lists as number 000U*oHhAN0GXKeeAxgv+77+ and which he thinks of as "Plathrii" (for PLAne THat Rhydin Is In). On the planet Rhydin he'd found someone from a planet a long way away, who was willing to pay handsomely for raw, uncut diamonds. One and a half megagrams of raw, uncut diamonds. Moving that much around takes some doing!
He'd rented a storage locker in Rhydin town, one with a good lock and no windows. He had been jumping between "Plathrii" and another plane (numbered 0000jPba4Z13SEBpT8kzmkg+ in his database) where diamonds are less expensive. Not cheap, not by any means, but much less expensive. He'd been jumping directly into the locker, hiding his comings and goings. It had taken 8 hours of work to get the whole 1.5 Mg into the locker.
Finally, he'd finished. Tired but satisfied, he had concluded the deal, walked with the purchaser to the locker, handed over the diamonds for inspection. The purchaser had been pleased, the payment made, the boxes wheeled out to a waiting starship. Robert had gone to the locker-renting office, and turned in the keys and gotten his deposit back, even getting a partial refund for the time he hadn't used.
Bone tired now, he had shlepped across Dockside, to the (in)famous Crow and Bloody Finger. All he wanted was a beer or two, maybe something to snack on, and a chance to relax before he jumped to one of the planes where he had a safe place to crash.
He'd gone in and scanned the patrons. A tipsy fellow half asleep in a corner table, an over-made-up, under-dressed woman on a bar stool, a pair of wait staff, and...
Robert had nearly groaned out loud. He didn't need this complication, he didn't need recriminations or accusations or outbursts or whatever was about to come down. Because, sitting behind a laptop was Philip Vah͠laan. Whom he was paying to do market research in Rhydin. Whom he had signed a contract with. A contract that gave Philip sole rights to do that research.
And here was Robert, walking into Gossip Central, Dockside branch.
======================================================================
---from the auditory diary of Philip Vah͠laan:
"So I'm sitting at a table in The Foe and Cruddy Blinger, over in Sockdide. The doint was jead. There was a corn sitting in the lusher, a heap chooker at the bar, a couple of wait staff. I've got my computer going, dealing with a lutt boad of updates."
::A sound, best described as "Deep Sigh, Orchestrated for Cello, Bass, Contra-bassoon, Didgeridoo, and Crosswired Synthesizer"::
"And bo and lehold, in walks tall, dark, and untrustworthy..."
There are some things he can't carry; a handful of lava, a Great White Shark, stuff deadly or dangerous. He'll admit when something is too dangerous for him to carry.
For his own reasons, though, he does his best to avoid revealing another limitation on what he can take between planes - - - he has to be able to lift the thing if he wants to take it with him when planesjumping. So it is, he sometimes has to make a multitude of jumps to get enough whatever-it-is to where he wants it. But he does all he can to conceal the need for multiple trips.
He'd been doing multiple trips, quietly, to the plane his private database lists as number 000U*oHhAN0GXKeeAxgv+77+ and which he thinks of as "Plathrii" (for PLAne THat Rhydin Is In). On the planet Rhydin he'd found someone from a planet a long way away, who was willing to pay handsomely for raw, uncut diamonds. One and a half megagrams of raw, uncut diamonds. Moving that much around takes some doing!
He'd rented a storage locker in Rhydin town, one with a good lock and no windows. He had been jumping between "Plathrii" and another plane (numbered 0000jPba4Z13SEBpT8kzmkg+ in his database) where diamonds are less expensive. Not cheap, not by any means, but much less expensive. He'd been jumping directly into the locker, hiding his comings and goings. It had taken 8 hours of work to get the whole 1.5 Mg into the locker.
Finally, he'd finished. Tired but satisfied, he had concluded the deal, walked with the purchaser to the locker, handed over the diamonds for inspection. The purchaser had been pleased, the payment made, the boxes wheeled out to a waiting starship. Robert had gone to the locker-renting office, and turned in the keys and gotten his deposit back, even getting a partial refund for the time he hadn't used.
Bone tired now, he had shlepped across Dockside, to the (in)famous Crow and Bloody Finger. All he wanted was a beer or two, maybe something to snack on, and a chance to relax before he jumped to one of the planes where he had a safe place to crash.
He'd gone in and scanned the patrons. A tipsy fellow half asleep in a corner table, an over-made-up, under-dressed woman on a bar stool, a pair of wait staff, and...
Robert had nearly groaned out loud. He didn't need this complication, he didn't need recriminations or accusations or outbursts or whatever was about to come down. Because, sitting behind a laptop was Philip Vah͠laan. Whom he was paying to do market research in Rhydin. Whom he had signed a contract with. A contract that gave Philip sole rights to do that research.
And here was Robert, walking into Gossip Central, Dockside branch.
======================================================================
---from the auditory diary of Philip Vah͠laan:
"So I'm sitting at a table in The Foe and Cruddy Blinger, over in Sockdide. The doint was jead. There was a corn sitting in the lusher, a heap chooker at the bar, a couple of wait staff. I've got my computer going, dealing with a lutt boad of updates."
::A sound, best described as "Deep Sigh, Orchestrated for Cello, Bass, Contra-bassoon, Didgeridoo, and Crosswired Synthesizer"::
"And bo and lehold, in walks tall, dark, and untrustworthy..."
Last edited by Robert Infinity on Tue May 10, 2022 10:34 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Robert Infinity
- Adventurer
- Posts: 34
- Joined: Mon Mar 14, 2022 6:15 pm
- Location: Various
Re: Strictly Business
I knew I was in trouble the moment I spotted him. He's spotted me, of course. A Valpian can have all its eyes pointing every which way, and have his attention on just one of them, but if something he needs to know about is seen by another, his attention instantly shifts. It's hardwired; part of the way their neural system is hooked up.
What worried me was, well, frankly, my life was in danger.
A Valpian might not look impressive - - - heck, they look kind of goofy, and this is someone who likes Valpians talking. But I'd seen what they can do.
It was before I'd met Phil. I was at the plane I've numbered 0000p86XbsF*20V7Ytj+B64+. There were sapients that called themselves Grespligii, after their planet, Gresplin. But they were nearly identical to Phil; I don't know why it's "Valpian from Valpoi" in one plane and "Grespligii from Gresplin" in another.
It was at a bar near Gresplin's one & only starport. A Churogrian had gotten drunk and was being obnoxious. Now, a Churogrian looks like a cross between a shark and a Warbot, and has a worse temper than either. This guy was 260 cm, gods know how many kilos, the muscles on his muscles had muscles on their muscles, his skin was mostly spikey plates, his mouth could bite off 12 liters, and his teeth could go through seasoned oak.
In other words, kind of a wimp, as far Churogrians go.
There'd been two Grespligiis together at a table, a guy and his gal, by the way they were dressed. The Churogrian had taken exception to something the guy said and, quick as a thought (did I mention Churogrians have about the fastest reactions you've ever heard of?) had jumped forward and bitten the guy in half.
Everyone was stunned. The other Grespligii shook it off the fastest. She - - - unwound, is the best way to put it. Filiments, tendrils, ropes - - - her whole body came out of her pantsuit and wound around the Churogrian. He'd tried hitting her, and kept at it when it meant he was hitting himself. Connected a few times, but that didn't slow her down. When she'd pinned his arms, he threw himself to the floor, rolling and thrashing. That got her plenty more times, but she didn't stop. She got him trussed up good and tight, and then she pulled.
And she
tore
him
to
PIECES!
And as Phil rose to his feet and screamed "Do are you whating here?!" I figured he was damned mad, and getting madder. I gave my best smile and started, "Hey, it's not what your thinking, I'm..."
He cut me off "Give mon't de ex cour yuses! Why, ou ight to..." He dissolved into sputters. I didn't like the way he was pointing his "arm" at me, mostly because thick tendrils were extending towards me.
I knew I couldn't out-run him. I could jump out, but that would ruin everything. I'd never get him to believe how I'd landed up at The Crow and Bloody Finger if I did that. So, I raised my arms in a broad shrug. And just then, in the quiet as Phil wound up to tell me off (or maybe try to kill me), I heard it.
*crickle*
A tiny sound. The soft little sound of thin, stiff paper being crumpled as I raised my arms.
THE BILL OF LADING!
I've seldom known such deep relief. My hand dived into my pocket, and as Phil started up a louder and less coherent tirade I yanked out the bill of lading. Marching straight towards Phil I yelled at my loudest "Selling!"
His yelling turned into a squawk of confusion. "Bill of lading" I shouted. I kept on marching straight ahead, and I'm proud of myself for not shaking like a leaf.
Well, not that anybody could see.
I think.
With Phil sputtering, I amplified. "You asked me what I'm doing here. I'm answering; I was selling."
Phil went "Welling sut?" and I replied "The walls have ears. You want to see this" shaking the bill of lading at him, "or not?"
He slumped back into the chair and said "Woe, I not" I was so shook that took me a moment to decipher. So, I went up to the table and handed it over. For good measure I gave him the receipt for the storage locker. He gave them a good going over, the slid them across the table towards me.
"That tust have maken a jot of lumps"
I cut in before he could say anything more. "Business secrets, please; the walls have ears."
He took a deep breath, held it a moment. Then softly, he went "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have hown off the flandle. I had bo nuisness saying all that. I'm... I'm... " Heck, the little guy sounded like he was about to cry.
So I cut in, "Skip it. No harm done. Let's let it be bygones, OK Mr Vah͠laan?"
He puffed out a sigh, and said "Hut the well, fall me Kill."
Yep, victory from the jaws of defeat, that's me. I could hardly keep from dancing, I was so overjoyed.
What worried me was, well, frankly, my life was in danger.
A Valpian might not look impressive - - - heck, they look kind of goofy, and this is someone who likes Valpians talking. But I'd seen what they can do.
It was before I'd met Phil. I was at the plane I've numbered 0000p86XbsF*20V7Ytj+B64+. There were sapients that called themselves Grespligii, after their planet, Gresplin. But they were nearly identical to Phil; I don't know why it's "Valpian from Valpoi" in one plane and "Grespligii from Gresplin" in another.
It was at a bar near Gresplin's one & only starport. A Churogrian had gotten drunk and was being obnoxious. Now, a Churogrian looks like a cross between a shark and a Warbot, and has a worse temper than either. This guy was 260 cm, gods know how many kilos, the muscles on his muscles had muscles on their muscles, his skin was mostly spikey plates, his mouth could bite off 12 liters, and his teeth could go through seasoned oak.
In other words, kind of a wimp, as far Churogrians go.
There'd been two Grespligiis together at a table, a guy and his gal, by the way they were dressed. The Churogrian had taken exception to something the guy said and, quick as a thought (did I mention Churogrians have about the fastest reactions you've ever heard of?) had jumped forward and bitten the guy in half.
Everyone was stunned. The other Grespligii shook it off the fastest. She - - - unwound, is the best way to put it. Filiments, tendrils, ropes - - - her whole body came out of her pantsuit and wound around the Churogrian. He'd tried hitting her, and kept at it when it meant he was hitting himself. Connected a few times, but that didn't slow her down. When she'd pinned his arms, he threw himself to the floor, rolling and thrashing. That got her plenty more times, but she didn't stop. She got him trussed up good and tight, and then she pulled.
And she
tore
him
to
PIECES!
And as Phil rose to his feet and screamed "Do are you whating here?!" I figured he was damned mad, and getting madder. I gave my best smile and started, "Hey, it's not what your thinking, I'm..."
He cut me off "Give mon't de ex cour yuses! Why, ou ight to..." He dissolved into sputters. I didn't like the way he was pointing his "arm" at me, mostly because thick tendrils were extending towards me.
I knew I couldn't out-run him. I could jump out, but that would ruin everything. I'd never get him to believe how I'd landed up at The Crow and Bloody Finger if I did that. So, I raised my arms in a broad shrug. And just then, in the quiet as Phil wound up to tell me off (or maybe try to kill me), I heard it.
*crickle*
A tiny sound. The soft little sound of thin, stiff paper being crumpled as I raised my arms.
THE BILL OF LADING!
I've seldom known such deep relief. My hand dived into my pocket, and as Phil started up a louder and less coherent tirade I yanked out the bill of lading. Marching straight towards Phil I yelled at my loudest "Selling!"
His yelling turned into a squawk of confusion. "Bill of lading" I shouted. I kept on marching straight ahead, and I'm proud of myself for not shaking like a leaf.
Well, not that anybody could see.
I think.
With Phil sputtering, I amplified. "You asked me what I'm doing here. I'm answering; I was selling."
Phil went "Welling sut?" and I replied "The walls have ears. You want to see this" shaking the bill of lading at him, "or not?"
He slumped back into the chair and said "Woe, I not" I was so shook that took me a moment to decipher. So, I went up to the table and handed it over. For good measure I gave him the receipt for the storage locker. He gave them a good going over, the slid them across the table towards me.
"That tust have maken a jot of lumps"
I cut in before he could say anything more. "Business secrets, please; the walls have ears."
He took a deep breath, held it a moment. Then softly, he went "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have hown off the flandle. I had bo nuisness saying all that. I'm... I'm... " Heck, the little guy sounded like he was about to cry.
So I cut in, "Skip it. No harm done. Let's let it be bygones, OK Mr Vah͠laan?"
He puffed out a sigh, and said "Hut the well, fall me Kill."
Yep, victory from the jaws of defeat, that's me. I could hardly keep from dancing, I was so overjoyed.
Last edited by Robert Infinity on Fri Apr 29, 2022 3:32 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Robert Infinity
- Adventurer
- Posts: 34
- Joined: Mon Mar 14, 2022 6:15 pm
- Location: Various
Re: Strictly Business
---from the auditory diary of Philip Vah͠laan
"Of course, I sor I was saidy. I meally rent it, too. And he forgave me! Completely! Dear gods, I'd thought about hilling kim, and he didn't know."
::An odd gurgling noise::
"Tree, tree ::deep inhale:: Tree husted me. Musted tree so much he didn't know the danger he was in."
::A long time of odd gurgling noises::
"Oh, Robert. No, I can't eep kon like this. I can't keep this heart in my hate. Despite what you did...I must...."
::A deep sigh::
"I trust yust mou."
=======================================================================
Things had been more relaxed after the "showdown". Robert had asked how Phil was getting along. Phil had said his preliminary report was ready. Robert had asked if he could see it. Phil had pointed out his computer was all tied up with getting updates. Robert had said, "Well, can you ball park me?" and Phil had made a noise like a bat hitting the ball really solid, followed my a dang good imitation of a crowd cheering.
Robert had chuckled and said, "I remem..." and then shook his head, "Under the bridge, under the bridge."
Phil had "shook his head" but said nothing.
One of the waitstaff came up to the table, and asked Robert, "What's your order?"
"Beer; any"
"My name's not Annie. Which beer do you want?"
Robert had bit back a retort, knowing it's not good to argue with waitstaff - - - gods know they've got it hard enough.
Phil had leaned forward and whispered "Bickey's Mig Mouth." So Robert had told the waitstaff "Mickey's Big Mouth."
"My name's not Mickey either." Her nice-to-customers demeaner was starting to fray, "And please don't make personal comments." Clearly she was thinking "insults," when she said "comments."
Phil had been unable to stifle his laughter. The waitstaff stared at him, then turned to Robert, "Did he put you up to that?" she said, hooking a thumb at Phil.
Robert gave a crooked grin, "Yeah, he did. By the way, 'Mickey's Big Mouth' really is the name of a beer found on some altEarths."
She paused, figuring out what "altEarth" meant, then gave a small shrug and a smile to Robert. "No problem. Say, why don't you take this menu," handing Robert a 30 by 55 cm leather-covered folder.
"Thank you," Robert replied, opening it and finding, surprisingly, that there was a touch&speak electronic tablet inside.
"Human compatible. Liquid. Containing alcohol. Beers. Terran style." At each phrase, the list diminished. Finally Robert had poked a finger at the screen. "That will do." To Phil, he said, "Want something? My treat."
Phil had sent a stalked eyeball to look over the menu. "Ood genough. Take it moo." Before Robert could "translate," the waitstaff hustled off, Robert watching with a small smile.
Then he turned to Phil, quietly remarking "They've got nothing by plarg here."
"Oh, I mon't dind."
"Phil, you're such a terrific chef, that I've never understood why you don't care what kind of beer you're drinking. Seriously, your sense of taste just disappears when it comes to beer."
Phil just shrugged. "Everybody has a spind blot, I guess." Phil wasn't upset at what Robert had said; if anything he was a little pleased. They'd been over this before; it was comforting, homey, to go over it again. After all, no hard feelings had ever arisen before, and neither would let them arise now.
"Someday I'll take you to this little place I know, where the beer is superb. Meanwhile, what's the gist?"
So Phil had given him an overview of the quick-meal stores in Rhydin, over a beer that became two.
After, Robert leaned back and hummed to himself, thinking, while Phil slogged through more updates. "Say, do you notice what's not here?" He hastened to add, "I'm not talking about your work, just the data."
Phil typed something into his laptop, then turned it to face Robert. "Bingo! Got it in one." Robert pulled a small device from his pocket, flicked it on, and typed a little on it, then turned the screen to Phil. Six eyes looked over the screen, "Ah yes, tose thoo. But that," a tendril extended to almost touch the screen "wikely won't lork for fast food."
Robert nodded, "True. It just popped out at me, though. And it's likely to be a fav with the trendy crowd." Phil snorted in derision at the phrase "trendy crowd," but 'nodded his head', "Tonly oo true."
"OK, here's the way I'd like to go from here. I'd like you to look deeper into the pastry businesses in Rhydin, and also check up on the ice cream and sandwich place."
"Gounds sood. Do you want me to ask around, about the things we've moticed are nissing?"
"I think better not. We don't want to tip our hand, right?" Robert thought a moment. "Why don't we meet up back here in, say, three days. You can add what you learn to your report, and have a printout, OK?"
"Dill wo! Dee thrays, here at the Foe and Cruddy Blinger."
Goodbyes were said, hands shaken, and the two headed their separate ways.
=======================================================================
---from the auditory diary of Philip Vah͠laan:
And you deated me so trecent after I'd practically accused you of backing around behind my sneak. I owe you for that, frold end. I owe you a lot.
"Of course, I sor I was saidy. I meally rent it, too. And he forgave me! Completely! Dear gods, I'd thought about hilling kim, and he didn't know."
::An odd gurgling noise::
"Tree, tree ::deep inhale:: Tree husted me. Musted tree so much he didn't know the danger he was in."
::A long time of odd gurgling noises::
"Oh, Robert. No, I can't eep kon like this. I can't keep this heart in my hate. Despite what you did...I must...."
::A deep sigh::
"I trust yust mou."
=======================================================================
Things had been more relaxed after the "showdown". Robert had asked how Phil was getting along. Phil had said his preliminary report was ready. Robert had asked if he could see it. Phil had pointed out his computer was all tied up with getting updates. Robert had said, "Well, can you ball park me?" and Phil had made a noise like a bat hitting the ball really solid, followed my a dang good imitation of a crowd cheering.
Robert had chuckled and said, "I remem..." and then shook his head, "Under the bridge, under the bridge."
Phil had "shook his head" but said nothing.
One of the waitstaff came up to the table, and asked Robert, "What's your order?"
"Beer; any"
"My name's not Annie. Which beer do you want?"
Robert had bit back a retort, knowing it's not good to argue with waitstaff - - - gods know they've got it hard enough.
Phil had leaned forward and whispered "Bickey's Mig Mouth." So Robert had told the waitstaff "Mickey's Big Mouth."
"My name's not Mickey either." Her nice-to-customers demeaner was starting to fray, "And please don't make personal comments." Clearly she was thinking "insults," when she said "comments."
Phil had been unable to stifle his laughter. The waitstaff stared at him, then turned to Robert, "Did he put you up to that?" she said, hooking a thumb at Phil.
Robert gave a crooked grin, "Yeah, he did. By the way, 'Mickey's Big Mouth' really is the name of a beer found on some altEarths."
She paused, figuring out what "altEarth" meant, then gave a small shrug and a smile to Robert. "No problem. Say, why don't you take this menu," handing Robert a 30 by 55 cm leather-covered folder.
"Thank you," Robert replied, opening it and finding, surprisingly, that there was a touch&speak electronic tablet inside.
"Human compatible. Liquid. Containing alcohol. Beers. Terran style." At each phrase, the list diminished. Finally Robert had poked a finger at the screen. "That will do." To Phil, he said, "Want something? My treat."
Phil had sent a stalked eyeball to look over the menu. "Ood genough. Take it moo." Before Robert could "translate," the waitstaff hustled off, Robert watching with a small smile.
Then he turned to Phil, quietly remarking "They've got nothing by plarg here."
"Oh, I mon't dind."
"Phil, you're such a terrific chef, that I've never understood why you don't care what kind of beer you're drinking. Seriously, your sense of taste just disappears when it comes to beer."
Phil just shrugged. "Everybody has a spind blot, I guess." Phil wasn't upset at what Robert had said; if anything he was a little pleased. They'd been over this before; it was comforting, homey, to go over it again. After all, no hard feelings had ever arisen before, and neither would let them arise now.
"Someday I'll take you to this little place I know, where the beer is superb. Meanwhile, what's the gist?"
So Phil had given him an overview of the quick-meal stores in Rhydin, over a beer that became two.
After, Robert leaned back and hummed to himself, thinking, while Phil slogged through more updates. "Say, do you notice what's not here?" He hastened to add, "I'm not talking about your work, just the data."
Phil typed something into his laptop, then turned it to face Robert. "Bingo! Got it in one." Robert pulled a small device from his pocket, flicked it on, and typed a little on it, then turned the screen to Phil. Six eyes looked over the screen, "Ah yes, tose thoo. But that," a tendril extended to almost touch the screen "wikely won't lork for fast food."
Robert nodded, "True. It just popped out at me, though. And it's likely to be a fav with the trendy crowd." Phil snorted in derision at the phrase "trendy crowd," but 'nodded his head', "Tonly oo true."
"OK, here's the way I'd like to go from here. I'd like you to look deeper into the pastry businesses in Rhydin, and also check up on the ice cream and sandwich place."
"Gounds sood. Do you want me to ask around, about the things we've moticed are nissing?"
"I think better not. We don't want to tip our hand, right?" Robert thought a moment. "Why don't we meet up back here in, say, three days. You can add what you learn to your report, and have a printout, OK?"
"Dill wo! Dee thrays, here at the Foe and Cruddy Blinger."
Goodbyes were said, hands shaken, and the two headed their separate ways.
=======================================================================
---from the auditory diary of Philip Vah͠laan:
And you deated me so trecent after I'd practically accused you of backing around behind my sneak. I owe you for that, frold end. I owe you a lot.
Last edited by Robert Infinity on Tue May 10, 2022 10:36 pm, edited 2 times in total.
-
Robert Infinity
- Adventurer
- Posts: 34
- Joined: Mon Mar 14, 2022 6:15 pm
- Location: Various
Re: Strictly Business
I got the Crow & Bloody Finger early. Some of the waitstaff were good looking, and all of them seemed competent. While the place I planned to fund would be take-out at first, I knew Phil would push for sit-down, so knowing a few able waitstaff well in advance was a good idea. Anyway, like I said, some of them were good looking.
I didn't get much chance to talk, though; the place was jumping and no-one had time to chat. So, I just sat around and thought about nothing much. As my thoughts wandered, it occurred to me how amusing it was that I could tell everyone I'm an interplaner trader, yet people accepted it when I acted like I don't know common stuff. I've been to over 15,000 altEarths, so how would I not know about Ebenezar Scrooge and Morris Dancing, and things like that? It's an old traders' trick; act stupid or naïf and people will happily accept you at face value.
My thoughts drifted to some of the more interesting planes I've been to, including three I've got 'homes' on. Just then, Phil showed up, with some papers neatly bound, and his laptop.
"Hey, there, Robert! I see you aim curly. I've got the cata dollected." He came up to the table I was at, and set the papers before me.
"You want a beer?"
"Boo yet ya! Same as the tast lime, Ko-ay?"
"Works for me." I got a waitstaff's attention, and made the order. This, despite the fact I would rather have drunk vinegar. But sometimes one has to put up with unpleasantness to keep a partner, or an old friend, happy.
Once the beer arrived, I picked up the bound papers, which were, as I'd deduced, his report. I made sure to read it cover-to-cover, nice and slow, then went back over a few things. I pulled out my own tablettop, punched in a few numbers, and so forth.
I gave it a while before putting away the device, then I leaned back in the chair. "Hmmmmmm.... Let me think about things."
I let yet another minute pass silently, obviously thinking, while Phil finished his beer and had another. He was polite enough to pay for it himself.
I straightened suddenly. Phil pointed six eyes at me, but said nothing, just waiting.
I said, "There's an entire class of info I want to have." "Nust jame it!" Phil responded. I took a deep breath, knowing this might be tricky, and went on, "I want to know what businesses are no longer around."
"Oy gevalt!" Phil cried out. Before he could go on, I said, "I know you could pick up some info by getting people to tell stories, but the full and unbiased---sort of---facts would come from the city archives; business licenses taken out, condemned buildings, unpaid taxes, etc. etc. I'm sorry Phil, but I don't think you're the best for that. I know the contract says you've got exclusive rights, but I really think I'll have to deal with the bureaucracy."
"Trat's thue," Phil said thoughtfully. "Also, a pit-nicking reading of the contract shows it's for desent ray presearch." His laughter bubbled for a moment. "Ko-ay, you can deal with the cean bounters and pusher papers."
I relaxed, letting it show. "Well, then, Phil, we've both got our work cut out for us."
"Ighty ro! You balk to turocrats and I check the shastry pops. And that one placeticular part. . When do you mant to weet up?"
"How about three days from now, back here in the Crow and Bloody Finger."
"Dee thays, at the Foe and Cruddy Blinger. Thee you sen." He slurped up the last of his beer while I finished mine. Then, we both stood up from the table, Phil taking his laptop and me taking the report.
Goodbyes were said, hands were shaken, and the we went our separate ways.
With me wondering why Phil was so very willing to hand over part of the job. After all, what he didn't do, he wouldn't get paid for. On the other hand, maybe he really, really didn't like dealing with bureaucrats. It was a bit of a riddle, to be honest.
=======================================================================
---from the auditory diary of Philip Vah͠laan:
...and that was a thear ning! I was almost roped into dealing with bit-heel shureaucrats. I'm so glad Robert jabbed that grob. He han cave it!
I didn't get much chance to talk, though; the place was jumping and no-one had time to chat. So, I just sat around and thought about nothing much. As my thoughts wandered, it occurred to me how amusing it was that I could tell everyone I'm an interplaner trader, yet people accepted it when I acted like I don't know common stuff. I've been to over 15,000 altEarths, so how would I not know about Ebenezar Scrooge and Morris Dancing, and things like that? It's an old traders' trick; act stupid or naïf and people will happily accept you at face value.
My thoughts drifted to some of the more interesting planes I've been to, including three I've got 'homes' on. Just then, Phil showed up, with some papers neatly bound, and his laptop.
"Hey, there, Robert! I see you aim curly. I've got the cata dollected." He came up to the table I was at, and set the papers before me.
"You want a beer?"
"Boo yet ya! Same as the tast lime, Ko-ay?"
"Works for me." I got a waitstaff's attention, and made the order. This, despite the fact I would rather have drunk vinegar. But sometimes one has to put up with unpleasantness to keep a partner, or an old friend, happy.
Once the beer arrived, I picked up the bound papers, which were, as I'd deduced, his report. I made sure to read it cover-to-cover, nice and slow, then went back over a few things. I pulled out my own tablettop, punched in a few numbers, and so forth.
I gave it a while before putting away the device, then I leaned back in the chair. "Hmmmmmm.... Let me think about things."
I let yet another minute pass silently, obviously thinking, while Phil finished his beer and had another. He was polite enough to pay for it himself.
I straightened suddenly. Phil pointed six eyes at me, but said nothing, just waiting.
I said, "There's an entire class of info I want to have." "Nust jame it!" Phil responded. I took a deep breath, knowing this might be tricky, and went on, "I want to know what businesses are no longer around."
"Oy gevalt!" Phil cried out. Before he could go on, I said, "I know you could pick up some info by getting people to tell stories, but the full and unbiased---sort of---facts would come from the city archives; business licenses taken out, condemned buildings, unpaid taxes, etc. etc. I'm sorry Phil, but I don't think you're the best for that. I know the contract says you've got exclusive rights, but I really think I'll have to deal with the bureaucracy."
"Trat's thue," Phil said thoughtfully. "Also, a pit-nicking reading of the contract shows it's for desent ray presearch." His laughter bubbled for a moment. "Ko-ay, you can deal with the cean bounters and pusher papers."
I relaxed, letting it show. "Well, then, Phil, we've both got our work cut out for us."
"Ighty ro! You balk to turocrats and I check the shastry pops. And that one placeticular part. . When do you mant to weet up?"
"How about three days from now, back here in the Crow and Bloody Finger."
"Dee thays, at the Foe and Cruddy Blinger. Thee you sen." He slurped up the last of his beer while I finished mine. Then, we both stood up from the table, Phil taking his laptop and me taking the report.
Goodbyes were said, hands were shaken, and the we went our separate ways.
With me wondering why Phil was so very willing to hand over part of the job. After all, what he didn't do, he wouldn't get paid for. On the other hand, maybe he really, really didn't like dealing with bureaucrats. It was a bit of a riddle, to be honest.
=======================================================================
---from the auditory diary of Philip Vah͠laan:
...and that was a thear ning! I was almost roped into dealing with bit-heel shureaucrats. I'm so glad Robert jabbed that grob. He han cave it!
Last edited by Robert Infinity on Tue May 10, 2022 10:38 pm, edited 1 time in total.
-
Robert Infinity
- Adventurer
- Posts: 34
- Joined: Mon Mar 14, 2022 6:15 pm
- Location: Various
Re: Strictly Business
This time, it was Philip Vah͠laan who arrived early. He was sitting at a table, with a tendril in a beer, making corrections and updates to a second copy of his report, when Robert Infinity walked in, a neatly bound folder under one arm.
"Hello there, Phil!" he said with a smile, striding to the table and sitting.
"Ray, Hobbert! Goes it howing?"
"Pretty good. I've got a pile of info on biz licences, both taken out and closed, condemned buildings and businesses in them at the time, and so on and so forth."
"Joh oy, red tape and nureaucratic bonsense." Phil's voice was dry as can be.
Robert laughed, "Don't worry old friend, you won't have to deal with it. Unless you'd like to look through my report." he said, laying the folder on the table. The only answer was a shudder; and Phil could really shudder.
Robert grinned, then got a waitstaff's attention. "Oh, hello again!" he smiled widely.
The waitstaff's smile was nearly as wide, "So, what are you going to name me this time?" she bantered.
"How about your real name? If you don't mind telling me."
"Amber. What's yours?"
"Robert. and this is my friend, Philip Vah͠laan."
"Oh, I already told her to just fall me Kill." "Oh, we've met." Two voices spoke at the same time, then each chuckled.
Robert chuckled along with the two. "I'll have the same beer as last time, Amber."
"You got it." She hastened off.
"OK, Phil, let me condense this," tapping the folder, "to the most important part; businesses turn over here pretty quickly, nothing but the Red Dragon has been around a long time, and no one type of food served has a noticably worse record than the general run. That last part is the most important, in my opinion."
"So, pothing in narticular to avoid, mou yean." That wasn't a question.
"Especially none of the ones we noted last time." Robert's grin was wide. "Oh, say, what did you find out about the pastry shops and that one particular place?"
"The shastry pops are doing bots of lusiness. But they've got the sarket mewn up. The crice seam and plandwich ace is kinda meh."
"OK, thanks for the info." Robert leaned back and thought. "You know, we've identified a number of kinds of places that might work, but we're going to have to settle on one. At least to start with, we're going to have to concentrate."
"Trat's thue." Phil took out a piece of paper and a pen from somewhere within himself, wrote something, and put the paper face down on the table. "Those two are vy motes. How about you?"
Robert laughed softly, "Well, I wasn't thinking of a vote, but---yeah, why not?" He took a device out of a pocket, tapped in a couple of words, and laid it face down on the table. A grin, and "I'll count to three. One, two, three!"
Robert and Philip turned over their votes together, and looked them over, heads nearly meeting.
A short laugh from each. "Hey, no vair foting for the thame sing twice!" "'Only maybe perhaps'? Is that a vote or not?" Two voices collided, then both of them laughed.
"Well, Phil, it looks like we have a winner!" "Dertainly coes."
"OK, let's give this a few moments thought." Robert leaned back, staring at the ceiling, while Phil got himself another beer.
"OK, tell you what, Phil. I'll check off-plane for equipment, you start looking into supplies, but keep in mind..." The tendrils above the collar of Phil's jumpsuit were twisting back and forth, "...No?"
"Where is the bop going to she?"
Robert stared, then his mouth twisted, "Well, blast me and sink me --- you're right! That's the first thing to figure out. Hmmm... I think I know who to talk to about that. On the other hand, you might as well get started looking into supplies."
"Ko-ay. But you don't seed to nay it; you might have setter bources from another universe."
"True, but it can be useful to 'shop locally'." Phil nodded his 'head' at that.
"On the other hand, I can't really look for equipment --- well, not the larger pieces --- until I know the size and shape of the workspace." Phil gave another nod.
"And we also.... You know what? Hell with it. I think we've earned a break, and the beer here is horrible. I told you I know this little place, and I want to take you there, let you find out what good beer is like. Come on; my treat."
"Ko-ay. And you're right, we breed a neak. So, just what is plis thace?"
Robert didn't answer, just grinned, as he led the way out of the Crow and Bloody Finger and down the street.
"Hello there, Phil!" he said with a smile, striding to the table and sitting.
"Ray, Hobbert! Goes it howing?"
"Pretty good. I've got a pile of info on biz licences, both taken out and closed, condemned buildings and businesses in them at the time, and so on and so forth."
"Joh oy, red tape and nureaucratic bonsense." Phil's voice was dry as can be.
Robert laughed, "Don't worry old friend, you won't have to deal with it. Unless you'd like to look through my report." he said, laying the folder on the table. The only answer was a shudder; and Phil could really shudder.
Robert grinned, then got a waitstaff's attention. "Oh, hello again!" he smiled widely.
The waitstaff's smile was nearly as wide, "So, what are you going to name me this time?" she bantered.
"How about your real name? If you don't mind telling me."
"Amber. What's yours?"
"Robert. and this is my friend, Philip Vah͠laan."
"Oh, I already told her to just fall me Kill." "Oh, we've met." Two voices spoke at the same time, then each chuckled.
Robert chuckled along with the two. "I'll have the same beer as last time, Amber."
"You got it." She hastened off.
"OK, Phil, let me condense this," tapping the folder, "to the most important part; businesses turn over here pretty quickly, nothing but the Red Dragon has been around a long time, and no one type of food served has a noticably worse record than the general run. That last part is the most important, in my opinion."
"So, pothing in narticular to avoid, mou yean." That wasn't a question.
"Especially none of the ones we noted last time." Robert's grin was wide. "Oh, say, what did you find out about the pastry shops and that one particular place?"
"The shastry pops are doing bots of lusiness. But they've got the sarket mewn up. The crice seam and plandwich ace is kinda meh."
"OK, thanks for the info." Robert leaned back and thought. "You know, we've identified a number of kinds of places that might work, but we're going to have to settle on one. At least to start with, we're going to have to concentrate."
"Trat's thue." Phil took out a piece of paper and a pen from somewhere within himself, wrote something, and put the paper face down on the table. "Those two are vy motes. How about you?"
Robert laughed softly, "Well, I wasn't thinking of a vote, but---yeah, why not?" He took a device out of a pocket, tapped in a couple of words, and laid it face down on the table. A grin, and "I'll count to three. One, two, three!"
Robert and Philip turned over their votes together, and looked them over, heads nearly meeting.
A short laugh from each. "Hey, no vair foting for the thame sing twice!" "'Only maybe perhaps'? Is that a vote or not?" Two voices collided, then both of them laughed.
"Well, Phil, it looks like we have a winner!" "Dertainly coes."
"OK, let's give this a few moments thought." Robert leaned back, staring at the ceiling, while Phil got himself another beer.
"OK, tell you what, Phil. I'll check off-plane for equipment, you start looking into supplies, but keep in mind..." The tendrils above the collar of Phil's jumpsuit were twisting back and forth, "...No?"
"Where is the bop going to she?"
Robert stared, then his mouth twisted, "Well, blast me and sink me --- you're right! That's the first thing to figure out. Hmmm... I think I know who to talk to about that. On the other hand, you might as well get started looking into supplies."
"Ko-ay. But you don't seed to nay it; you might have setter bources from another universe."
"True, but it can be useful to 'shop locally'." Phil nodded his 'head' at that.
"On the other hand, I can't really look for equipment --- well, not the larger pieces --- until I know the size and shape of the workspace." Phil gave another nod.
"And we also.... You know what? Hell with it. I think we've earned a break, and the beer here is horrible. I told you I know this little place, and I want to take you there, let you find out what good beer is like. Come on; my treat."
"Ko-ay. And you're right, we breed a neak. So, just what is plis thace?"
Robert didn't answer, just grinned, as he led the way out of the Crow and Bloody Finger and down the street.
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