RP:Dark Money

From HollowWiki

Part of the The Dust Up In Cenril Arc


Summary: Lots of ic secrets up in here. Hudson taps his buddy Sargaso to secretly head 'Cenrilians for Prosperity,' a secretive political organization that publicly bills itself as a grassroots, business-oriented action group. The reality is that Cenrilians for Prosperity is meant to secretly funnel Hudson's drug money to support his friend Fitz's candidacy for mayor. The idea is that, if Fitz is elected, Hudson and associates have bought him and can control him to further their ends.


Office, Cenrilians For Prosperity

Hudson had sent word to Sargaso with address in Cenril for a nondescript building that advertises free and cheap office space. Downstairs on the ground floor of the building is a loud bar, it's no wonder they're having a hard time getting serious tenants. Hudson is on the scene first, and he's pried open all the windows to clear a certain musty smell that has pervaded the digs. They're fine, nothing to write home about. The office Hudson's lurking in has a plaque, a new one, that reads "Cenrilians For Prosperity." Beyond the locked door, which is propped open for Sarge's entry, there's a couple of offices with desks and some file cabinets. There's a common bathroom in the hall to share with the other floor's tenants. It's a group of strange bedfellows, in that most appear to be accounting firms but others, well, the plaque for one reads "The Bust Solutions" and beyond the fancier frosted glass looks like it's a doctor's office. Funny, that had not been intentional. He's putting ice in a very dusty looking magical ice box, looking to load it up with a crate of beers resting on a nearby desk, when Sarge enters. "Sup, this is your new job," he says, tossing the other guy a cold one.


Sargaso received the address and accompanying short, enigmatic note (Job opportunity - H) with the nonplussed, calculatedly-cool attitude he applies to most things (exception: mermaids), much to the frustration of Amy. When she asked what the note was all about and Sarge could provide no further details than ‘Huds,’ which did little to assuage Amy’s (well warranted) suspicions, she threw a greasy spatula at him. To be fair, she’d had a falling out with the illusionist who works on her bust and other ASSets, and Sarge suspects (wrongly) that that is the main source of his recent irritability, not his philandering or reluctance to put a ring on it. Hudson’s name also reinvigorated her resentment about the latter. Sky writing, really, bro? Passing “The Bust Solutions,” Sarge makes a mental note to ferry this information back to Amy and score some easy boyfriend points. It’s like a restaurant loyalty program (in his mind), collect enough and cash it in for a free handsie or blowie. Entering the room, he paws the beer out of the air with an overgrip and opens another hand like a catcher’s mitt to receive a beer opener. “I wouldn’t vote for you for mayor.”


Hudson pitches the beer opener next, of course he does. He's already got one open for himself, and he reaches for it and drinks opposite Sarge as the other guy gets situated. "It's not for me, it's for Fitz, you met him at... one of our parties," he says, pausing and mentally reaching for a point of further elaboration. "The one I swallowed a goldfish at and projectile vomited it onto the side of a yacht." That should be context enough. Hudson starts loading the ice box with beers. "Fitz... had like, at least two popped collar polos on, I think you probably thought he was a douche, I don't recall, anyway, he's running for mayor." His palm taps on a nearby desk, which he sits on. "And Cenrilians for Prosperity is going to become a major donor. Literally that's all you do, give Fitz's people the money that I give you. They'll come pick it up. If anybody asks, Cenrilians for Prosperity is a grass roots movement that's really focused on making Cenril business competitive again, they receive the money to support political action through donations by their many business community members, no you cannot see any records, and so on." Hudson pauses to drink from his beer. "Might be even more effective if the office is rarely open, although feel free to use it for... whatever." He drinks again. "So, this is pretty much a fake job that you get paid for."


Sargaso sits on a desk and drinks, nodding here and there to confirm he’s listening. He grins to let Huds know he was joking, obviously. He’d vote for him if he ever lost his goddamn mind and did run for office himself. Fitz? He vaguely recalls the guy’s face. The goldfish anecdote helps. Sure. Fitz the douche, yeah. “Wasn’t he-- The guy in golden armor at the stag party? Oh, no. No.” Sarge swats a hand in the air at his own mistake. “That was Kyle. Kylovath. Yea, Fitz, I remember now.” Sarge nods again once he’s got Fitz firmly in mind. The election pitch, if it were pitched by anyone else, wouldn’t grab Sargaso’s attention, but he isn’t asked for his honest political opinion here both because Sargaso doesn’t harbor them, and because it’s clear there’s some ruse at play here which Sarge cannot quite guess at, but isn’t too keen to look the gift horse in the mouth. “Uh huh,” he says sarcastically at the idea he’ll buy Amy a ring. “Amy doesn’t need to know about this.” Or else she’ll demand a ring/everyone is conspiring against his D. Hudson could hire literally anyone to do this, but wants it to be him for mysterious reasons he deems too girlish to ask. “Why Fitz? That guy…” Suffers from perpetual foot-in-mouth disease. “Doesn’t seem the speech-giving type.” Though his family is connected enough, sure. “What are you up to?”


Hudson is about to interrupt and say that Sarge is thinking of Kelovath but Sarge gets there on his own. Hudson looks at the now-full ice box and wishes he'd brought some hot wings. The desk creaks beneath him, and he's forced to get up, finding it now a suspect sitting surface. "Yeah, figured," he says, about Amy not needing to know. Trollishness now in check, Huds sits on a file cabinet instead, it proves hardier. "Well, Fitz really wants it, or... Fitz's wife really wants it for Fitz," he explains, lifting his beer in a toast in advance of what he anticipates will be some comment about The Dangers Of Wives. "Happy wife, happy life," he says, taking a swig from his beer. "Fitz has great enthusiasm, people are gonna love how he gets up there and gets fired up and says whatever he wants." Hopeful words, and Hudson bug eyes a bit, aware that what he's just said are some talking points and that it could cut the wrong way very quickly. "Anyway, the goal is to get Fitz the job, and then he owes me, and helps me out by keeping the guards off my people. For starters." Like a ridiculous supervillain, he twirls the 70's style mustache he's been growing out of superstitious support for Alvina's maybe pregnancy. It had started ironically? As in, let's not shave until we know! Anyway, now it's still present, not ironically. Alvina does not like it, this is the worst thing he's ever done, facial hair does not have a hand in fetal development and/or conception, he looks like a plumber out of an erotic magazine, etc. Hudson is feeling his look, however. Until the 70's style mustache's work is done, it stays. "Can't have Fitz connected to obvious drug money," Hudson elaborates, in case it's not clear. "And maybe I don't want Alvina's friends to know what I'm up to politically," he adds, cryptically.


Sargaso is about to make a joke about wives, but recalls that Hudson is for whom that bell tolls next and decides to keep his zinger to himself. Also, it was a weak zinger, and part of being eternally cool is a careful curation of zingers. Also, on some level, he knows he’s as chained to Amy as Hudson is to Alvina, though it’s costing Sarge a hell of a lot less. “Why don’t you just hide the drug money in your stache,” says the man who a month from now will be sporting a full stache of his own. You can mock the stache, but you can’t escape the stache. It spreads among adult male friends like chickenpox in a kindergarten classroom. He scrunches his brow at the cryptic message and lifts his chin like ‘sup with that?’ “Alvina’s friends?”


Hudson gives his mustache another twirl, for effect, since it's now taken center stage. "Thank you. I should, it's that baller," he agrees. For the record, he's told Alvina that Sargaso 'started it' insofar as the 'stache growing was concerned. Because they basically live in the Cenril equivalent of Calabasas and she works in Frostmaw, Alvina is unlikely to bump into Sargaso, so... she's unlikely to verify this. Also, Sargaso is that one wily friend on whom bad decision making - bar the truly bad decisions, which must be kept secret to the grave - can be blamed. Hudson waves generically at the reference to Alvina's friends. "You know, Alvina's friends with Queen Josleen of Larket, right?" he clarifies. "We're all still on good terms, but uh, yeah, it's not a coincidence we moved back to Cenril like ten minutes after we moved to Larket." He bug eyes again, and then kills his beer and considers Sarge anew. "It's super messed up what they're doing with the witches over there," he says, under the assumption that the other guy will readily agree if Hudson just says this like it's obvious enough. He holds up his hands. "I'M NOT," he says forcefully, in a cryptic reference to a question concerning a certain witch that might have sprang into Sarge's head. "Swear, I'm not. I'm someone's dad now. I'm telling you it changes everything." He drops the empty beer bottle into a trash bin. "You have no idea, man, you'll see." A beat, then he clarifies, "That reminds me, I ran into Amy at the gym and she told me that you guys were trying for a baby? Are you...aware?"


“That’s the same Josleen?” He remembered Alvina has a friend named Josleen, and that the Queen of Larket is named Josleen, but never suspected that the two are one in the same because what are the chances. “She’s friends with a literal queen?” Sarge’s hand explodes near his temple to indicate this his mind is now blown. Whoa. Sarge does not read the Cenrili Times, but instead gets his news from Cenril’s version of twitter aka drunks yelling things 140 neurons firing at a time in The Whaler’s Bar. #Witches is not trending. #MyBitchWife is, which in part has informed Sargaso’s general attitude towards marriage. “Yea, super messed up,” he says so as to not betray his ignorance. He’ll google it later (shout the word ‘witches larket news’ at the barkeep until something shakes loose). He opens his new beer as Hudson denies having relations with that witch, to which he shrugs indifferently. To bone or not to bone, each man must weigh his own risks and rewards. With regard to kids, “Yea, they say that.” But Sarge doesn’t want things to change, not even for overwhelming feelings of purpose and love or whatever it is new fathers say, cause he’s happy with his lot. Heck, he doesn’t even negotiate for higher pay for this strange campaign shell company gig, because he just doesn’t have that kind of hustle in his heart, and Huds is his bro who he can trust to tell him when Amy is pricking lambskins. Sarge spits out his beer a little at the news, spraying the icebox. “Are you f------ kidding me? Hell no I wasn’t aware--and we’re not.” He pauses thoughtfully, then shudders. “Picture Amy as a mother. No, wait, better yet, picture her babysitting your girls.” He bug eyes, waits for Huds to do the same, then nods knowingly. “Exactly.” Feeling a little guilty for talking this much trash about a woman who he does love, even if he’s reluctant to show it lest she get ideas (like this baby bs), he adds, “Don’t get me wrong. She’d be real warm, love that baby, do her best. But yeah…Prefer not to complicate things. How’s Alvina doing? How are the girls?”


"Literal Queen," agrees Hudson, nodding as Sargaso does the thing Hudson expected he would, which is to agree with a friend despite possible ignorance. Anyway, the conversation very rapidly moves on to the subject of Amy trying to trap his friend here. How had he not led with this? He'd heard it from Amy at the gym, LOL'd immediately in his mind, filed it away to tell Sarge, and then evidently .. been distracted. It had been a few weeks ago he'd been told. Amy's contraception con, or whatever, has apparently been running for a little while here. Well, leave it to Amy to get one over on Sarge. Although honestly, the fact that she'd told him had made him wonder if it was legit! Very much obviously it's not. He tries not to laugh in his friend's face. (But: LOL. He can't wait to tell Alvina about this later!) On cue, Hudson bug eyes at the idea of Amy the babysitter. "You should maybe conduct an investigation," he suggests delicately. "Everyone's good," he is quick to report about his camp. "Girls sleeping through the night like pretty much always now." He fist pumps. "Changed my life." He knows better than to elaborate for years about babies. He'll save the comprehensive download for his mum. Sargaso gets the 'man's talking points.' "Alvina's been working on the wedding stuff, we're doing really great actually, talking about having another baby, because we're insane and miss not sleeping I guess. She really loves the new house. Did I mention we're neighbors with the Easts? Kanze comes over and hangs out with me sometimes, it's so... man, he's so crazy? Anyway, you should come by sometime, we'll grill and drink beers in my pool. I have a floating ice box. Maybe don't bring Amy, it might uh, aggro her, if you're not actually trying to have kids." He stifles a chuckle in the base of his throat. "Uh, for Sven's sake."


New parents: tell you kids are a blessing, then in the same breath celebrate ‘child now sleeps through the night.’ Talk about speaking out both sides of your mouth. No thanks. ”Please don’t tell Amy you’re trying for a third, you psycho. But congrats, that sounds like things turning out how you wanted.” At talk of the wedding, Sarge chimes in to declare that he’s planning a second stag party, Fitz can come but not Alonso/Alfonso/that loser. Hudson continues with the celebrity gossip, and Sarge looks impressed by the neighborly reveal, and the floating icebox. He knew Hudson had made it, but there’s degrees of making it and this is several degrees above what he expected. “Yea, that sounds good. So, uh...is it true? That he has himself painted on his ceiling like he’s Sven?”


Hudson winces at the mention of bachelor party redux. "Better start my lobbying efforts now so I'm allowed to have said stag party," he comments dryly. He starts laughing when Sargaso asks about whether Kanze has himself painted on his ceiling. Yeah, he'd heard the rumor too. Painted on the ceiling like he's Sven, one arm extended, index finger giving life to humanity. "Oh man, I haven't been allowed over their place yet and it hasn't come up, but I'm waiting for the right opportunity," he tells Sargaso. "Anyway," he gets off the file cabinet and claps the other guy on the shoulder. "I told Alvina I'd pick up take out on the way home," he explains, meaning he has to go. "I'll have my people bring some money over, we'll get the machine going. Before I forget," and with that, he digs the keys out of his pocket and puts them in Sarge's hand.