RP:Easy Money
Summary: A request was put in with Rachelle but when it comes time to discuss the finer details of the job, Meri's interests are on another item completely. Meri gets exactly what she asked for, for a pretty penny. Rachelle knows a sucker when she sees one.
Kelay: Restaurant
Meri sent advanced notice. Sort of. A communication came in the form of another letter, following her letter asking for time to get her arrangements in order. It explained that she would be having a violin and several different pieces of sheet music sent over, as of course Meri was going to take advantage of every promise of a discount that she possibly could. (That part was not explained.) A very plain looking, black violin and several sheets of music would arrive to the restaurant a few days following that notification, as promised, along with another letter stating that Meri herself would be coming to the shop to pay Rachelle a visit. In typical flaky artistic fashion, she gave no solid indication of date and time nor did she bother asking Rachelle's schedule. Meri would be relying on sheer luck. What Rachelle got was basically 'keep an eye out for the blonde with a lot of tattoos, I will be rolling through soon.' Yes. Meri. She helps to run a business how? Meri's arrival is an uneventful one, she makes her way into the shop a couple days after her final communication, and as promised she is definitely 'some blonde chick with a lot of tattoos' and she makes zero attempt to hide them. Shop door opens, Meri steps in.
Rachelle sits primly in a corner booth, bag of enchantment miscellany off to her side and a cup of tea in her hands. This is much as it always is, when she’s meeting clients here. There is always tea. She always takes a booth, and it always has a decent view of the street outside. She’s hardly waiting idly for Meri’s approach, however. Her entire table is littered with notes, scribbled in various colors of ink, all as shimmery as the ink in her letters to Meri. (Rachelle may as well be a bird; she can’t resist shiny things. Her clothes state this in elaborate fashion, even if her notes did not.) Over her tea she is peering down at them, occasionally moving a note from one section of the table to another, a puzzled frown lining her face. There’s a method to this madness, some organizational pattern to the way things are laid out, though it would be unintelligible to anyone else.
Meri would have been far friendlier under different circumstances, very different circumstances, not that Rachelle would be any wiser to this. Rachelle is initially passed up entirely as Meri makes her way further into the establishment to almost robotically chase down an on-duty employee to inquire about who this Rachelle woman is, if she was present, where she could be found. These questions are cut short by the worker bussing tables, who is far too busy to really deal with this, as he points toward the table Rachelle is sitting at, "She's right there." A lift of a brow, but no apology and no sheepish smile. Meri turns and makes toward Rachelle's table next, letting her hand come to rest on the back of a chair opposite the woman with the intention of pulling it out as she declares to the enchantress, "I believe we have business." Such charm. What manners.
Rachelle learned everything she knows about manners from -- no, not her parents. Her mother is long gone and her father leaves something to be desired in the ‘etiquette’ department, though he’s a charming businessman when it counts. No, Rachelle learned her immaculate and irreproachable manners from high society parties and Emilie Palisade books. The author is a very well known arbiter of good manners. Surely Meri has heard of her. But perhaps not, Rachelle thinks, eyeing the woman with her face half obscured by her teacup. The very first chapter of the very first book was on properly introducing oneself, after all. Currently, Rachelle is practicing lesson #17: If you can’t react to others with the proper composure, stall until you can. Take a deep breath or two. Close your eyes, silently count backwards from five. There is no excuse. It’s three seconds, maybe four before Rachelle lowers her drink and greets Meri with a perfect, professional smile. “Ah, you must be Meri then. A pleasure. Please, sit.” Rachelle gestures to the bench opposite her. Her notes are hurriedly swept off the table, their order at least roughly preserved as Rachelle stuffs them inside a journal which is then tucked away into her bag. She’ll finish with that whole mess later. “I am Rachelle Fournier, though I suppose you’ve gathered as much, since you’re here. I hope you didn’t find the journey too terribly taxing?” Rachelle doesn’t actually care about the answer to that question. It’s another stalling tactic, as she pulls the violin, bow, and sheet music from a side pouch of her bag. The bag is enchanted to fit a great number of things inside and protect them from any damage, because of course it is. Everything she removes is in great condition, despite not having been kept in a proper case.
Meri has not heard of this Emilia Palisade, because c'mon? Do you think Meri would pick up a book and read for pleasure? Psh. Unfortunately, Rachelle, this off-kilter behavior is going to continue. It's nothing personal, nothing that can be attributed to a bad mood, nor does it look like the woman is suffering from any physical ailments. Maybe an extreme lack of sleep? It does look like she is suffering from that much. But does that really warrant her behavior? Of course by all appearances Meri probably just comes off like a snot, sorry Rachelle. Chair is pulled out, Meri helps herself to the seat without confirming it's alright to join. Those manners will continue. "I am and I did not," comes Meri's too-the-point response, her words bland and bordering on monotone. Was she even interested in the request she had initially put in? She hardly seems excited by it, for the violin does not seem to even hold her attention. That bag though. There is a slight tilt of her head. "The bag. I would like that too." Please. Thank you. Is this even possible? "How much?" Shall we practice lesson #17 again?
Rachelle is still all smiles, though at the moment it’s a bit less ‘happy shopkeeper NPC’ and a bit more ‘Yzma smiling at Kuzco like she’s totally not plotting to murder him.’ Her makeup isn’t that far off, either, though Rachelle happens to think she looks fabulous. (Fourth wall? What fourth wall? Real-world references are hot this year. Just ask Lionel.) “The bag is not for sale,” Rachelle responds, perhaps a hint more tersely than she’d intended. Her smile pulls wider now; she’s conscious of the facade slipping and is trying her best to compensate. It’s been a long, long week filled with many less-than-satisfactory customers. “However, I’d be happy to discuss enchanting you a satchel of your own. Perhaps you’d like to bring one next time we meet?” Rachelle isn’t sure she wants there to be a next time, the way things are going so far, but that’s a problem for Future Rachelle. At the moment, she’s just doing her best to provide an Exemplary Customer Experience(TM) while also, well, not giving up her personal belongings. Sorry, but the customer is not always right, not here. “For now, let’s talk about the violin.” It’s laid on the table now, for the record, along with the rest. “I’ve looked over the sheet music you’ve provided me with, and it doesn’t seem too difficult to work with. I think perhaps two thousand for the most basic enchantment is fair, but of course you’ll want to hear out enhancements, I presume?” Always presume, always upsell. Capitalism, ho! “I have a few ideas of my own, and I’m most certainly willing to hear you out on anything you might like to add. Your imagination is the limit, really.” And, you know, Hollow rules. No laser-spewing robo-violins that rocket you to space, sorry.
Meri usually is far nicer! Depending on who is asked. Maybe she'll be better next meeting, that depends on when these two ladies meet again. The longer Rachelle stalls on this job, the more likely the chances are she will actually get to encounter Meri in her proper state of mind....not this ill-mannered thing sitting across from her making demands as only the finest of customers can do. Where is your manager Rachelle? I need to speak to her right now because it does not matter how nice you are being to me...! Kidding, because in addition to being ill-mannered, Meri is like an ice queen right now. Does this woman have feelings? No smile, hardly any facial expressions to anything, not even displeasure over being denied her wish to have that bag and have it now. "You were given multiple songs so that one does not tire of hearing the same thing on repeat." This woman likes music? Really? She does, were she not..."Obviously there needs to be a means to start and stop this enchantment. What more could there be to the design?" There is hardly a pause as little miss snot shifts the subject back to it actually seems useful. "But the bag. That is more important to me and I would like that sooner. Cost is of no issue. How soon?" Rachelle! Maybe it was better to meet Meri in this robotic state. This could mean seeing her sooner over later. Oh dear. Maybe it could be delivered somewhere?
Rachelle is… taken aback, to say the least. This Meri person comes across as rather intense. Still, the show must go on, even when all the smiley muscles in Rachelle’s face are fatigued and she really feels as if she could use a nap more than another enchanting job. The woman’s tea is grasped again, a few gulps passing her lips before she deigns to reply to the tattooed robot-woman across from her. (The tea is of citrus and wild berries and made by the restaurant, but Rachelle has of course added a bit of herbal pick-me-up to its contents. Again, it’s been a long week. It’s also only day two of six. Sigh.) “Yes, yes, of course, and that’s all implemented already. I can show you how to start and stop its playing once we’ve finalized everything.” And once money has changed hands, of course, though Rachelle hopes this needn’t be mentioned explicitly. “As for what more there could be, well, I did have a customer request a light show the other day. Imagine gems set into the piece that shine and dim again in time to the music, making for a visual spectacle as well as an auditory one. Some might prefer to alter the natural sound of the violin. Perhaps in your case you might like a mood enhancer added -- something to help your customers be in the right mindset for good tips?” Rachelle smiles again, this time conspiratorially from one tradesperson to another. “Nothing so strong as to be unethical, of course, just something to give those with spare cash a little… nudge in the right direction.” She winks, and soon after seems to realize she’s gotten carried away with the upselling and nearly forgotten the matter of the bag. Only nearly, thankfully. “Oh! And as for the bag, er, I don’t have a spare on hand I’m afraid. There’s a general wares shop just down the block, though, and I can vouch for the quality of the shopkeeper’s goods. If you’re really in such dire need, we could swing by there and I could enchant one for you today?”
Meri probably like some sort of mood enhancer, yes, be it to adjust her own lack-of-mood or to sway customers to give her a lovely tip. Tips were good. Tips meant more money. She is sort of greedy, probably not too unlike the woman sitting across form her at the table. All of this is met with a flat look though, because what was this woman on about? Why she was trying to upsell, Meri, and she was doing quite a good job at it but again. This thing what was sitting across from Rachelle was barely Meri and with the amount of interest displayed in the violin, why did she even show up for this? A thought, probably not her own, that there may be something of use to gain from this meeting yet. "I am not interested in gems and light shows." That thought was not misguided. For the first time during this meeting there is some amount of emotion displayed. Her red lips twist up into a smile far too dark and sinister for even Meri to muster when she is up to her worst of trouble on a bad day, almost as ominous as the magic oozing from the howling wolf tattoo on her neck. If the enchantress was sensitive to such things. "Let's take care of the bag tonight. You'll be paid handsomely." Not that Rachelle has set a cost for the bag. "For all of your efforts." The expectation that she would be told no is not there, Meri stands with the presumption that Rachelle would too. Hop too, chop chop, right now. This woman.
Rachelle might notice that magicked tattoo, if she had any reason to pay it mind. She doesn’t, though. Tattoos are a foreign art to Rachelle, and not one the woman deems worthy of attention. Maybe if she knew any rich tattooed men who were also attractive and available, she’d think differently. As it stands, Rachelle thinks to protest this sudden departure, but the thought never becomes action, because money. Ultimately, she too rises from the table, returning the violin and so on to her bag. “Very well. We can pick out a bag there, return here so I’ve the space to enchant it, and then you can be off with the lot of it.” Perhaps it’s not just the tattoo that Rachelle is unobservant about, because only just now is her offense at Meri’s manners shifting to something more along the lines of confusion. The woman is beginning to seem less rude and more… missing some marbles, maybe? As they depart the restaurant, Rachelle’s cherry red parasol appears as if from nowhere and is raised to shield her precious skin from the sun. (It is, of course, not from nowhere, but merely another thing that was stowed in her bag.) It also offers a veil through which she can surreptitiously hold the other woman in her gaze. What a curious person this Meri is. But then again, aren’t all these adventurers in one way or another?
Meri was not going to be one for conversation during this little walk, and normally she would be. Most people usually fall subject to an array of questions because Meri was actually ever so much a nosy and curious woman. Perhaps Rachelle would enjoy the break in 'conversation' with Meri. Silence was probably a nice change from....? Whatever it was Rachelle was currently being forced to deal with. Since the shop was not that far, the walk would be a quick one, the bag would be selected and paid for. Just your ordinary brown sack, that draws very little attention. The bag was held out toward Rachelle once purchased, in silent offering...because here you are, you have what you need now give me what I need. Which of course means the two women need to turn right around and head back to the restaurant so that Rachelle can fill these demands, Meri can pay, and then Rachelle can send the weirdo packing.
Rachelle ’s bag couldn’t be further from the one Meri just picked out. Rachelle’s bag is leather with a floral pattern, highly unnecessary (but very pretty and in fashion!) fringe, and what might be rose gold plating on the zippers. “Are you… -sure- this is the one you want?” she had asked while they were still in the shop, but of course Meri was. || Once they’ve returned to their booth at the restaurant, Rachelle regards the bag she’s meant to enchant with… a less than impressed stare. It sits before her on the table like a sad brown lump, equally unimpressed with Rachelle. It is some time before the young woman can gather herself enough to get things moving again. At last, parchment, a quill, and several vials of inks are removed from Rachelle’s sack. The parchment is placed under Meri’s (vastly inferior! How was something so plain even sold there?) bag, and Rachelle begins crafting colorful runes onto the page as she speaks, runes that ring around the bag in an intricate pattern. “So, just to make sure I have everything right -- your bill will be for the violin that plays the sheet music you wanted and can start and stop on command, free of any other enchantments. In addition, you want this bag lined with… an enchantment for safe holding, increased carrying space, and a decrease in weight? That’s everything I have on my bag, anyhow.” It’s not, not quite, but she sees no need for Meri to know that, and the woman likes keeping a few tricks to herself. “Will that be all for you today?”
Meri does not understand. Rachelle. What is wrong with her bag? Honestly, were Meri even her right-state of mind these two would have very clashing tastes in dress and decor regardless. The woman is observant to what Rachelle is doing, to the extent of it seemed a better to stare at the runes she was crafting onto the page than to stare at Rachelle herself. There is absolutely no understanding as to why Rachelle selects to use the runes that she does, they are just scribbles on a page as far as Meri is concerned right now. "That will be all," comes the simple and to the point answer, delivered in the same flat manner that Meri has presented herself for a bulk of this encounter. Except that one moment. "And you are owed how much?" Not even a haggle, Meri would haggle. FutureMeri is going to be very, very mad with her extra order, more than likely. Her poor finances.
Rachelle , having assisted her merchant father from a very young age, knows a sucker when she sees one. Or hears one, in this case, as her eyes never rise from her work. These prices are going to be a bit higher than what she’d normally fetch -- not by much, but enough to make a pretty profit since Meri doesn’t show any indication of haggling. “Two thousand gold for the violin, as I said before. That includes your discount. Three enchantments on the bag of an intermediate level -- that’s generally a thousand per each, but to decrease the weight of the bag requires a rare reagent for which I’ll have to charge an extra two thousand. So seven thousand, total.” Some sleight of hand reveals a palm-sized, greyish stone amongst the things Rachelle has pulled from her bag for this enchantment. It is porous and littered in runes in an oily, dark blue ink, and Rachelle stuffs it into Meri’s sack once she’s finished crafting runes onto the parchment. “Don’t lose the stone. If you’ve any skill with sewing, I recommend crafting a pouch into the lining to keep it in place.” A downside to picking a plainer bag: it doesn’t appear to already be equipped with such a pouch. The bag -she- would have picked would have come with several, of course.
Meri is definitely one to be easily taken advantage of right now, don't think this is the norm, Rachelle! Not even a bat of a lash from a woman that would normally scoff at such a price and turn her nose up at the very thought of paying that much for a damn bag! The violin would have been deemed a more reasonable request, at the very least. This is what happens when you don't come equipped with a bit of charm, that smile, and your damn brain, Meri. Where is your head at? So seven thousand gold realistically is obviously a lot. Don't ask how Meri is able to pay this sum of money, in terms of carrying it around, but it is going to happen. Realistically she should probably have a chest sitting at her feet full of gold for this? Shh. Shhh. This is probably why checks were invented, right? Either way, Rachelle is going to get her gold and Meri is going to get her overpriced items. How much the tattooed woman actually absorbs about the bit where she is not supposed to lose the gemstone is questionable, very questionable, very there is no reaction or acknowledgement of any sort from Meri. Just here is the gold, Rachelle, now please do your part and send me on my way.
Quickly, nearly impossibly so, Rachelle confirms that the payment is indeed the amount she asked for. Call it a good head for numbers, or an inherited business skill, but Rachelle is as fast as a hoarding dragon to tally up her assets and tuck them safely away. “That’s great. Fantastic. Just one final touch, and you can be on your way.” Rachelle rises, placing much of her weight on splayed hands that fit, precisely, the only blank areas left on the parchment. The runes light up one by one, seemingly at random. Within tens of seconds they are all lit, casting strange globs of color onto the two women and their surroundings. The lighting is, for a moment, reminiscent of a discotheque, but there is no funky music and no groovy dancing. Soon enough, the lights extinguish in unison. The ink on the page is black now, and reflects no light. Rachelle exhales with visible fatigue and falls back into her seat, reaching again for a fix from her tea (Rachelle is a regular and the waiter is most attentive, though he certainly leaves something to be desired in the ‘looks’ department and is no good at conversation, either). The violin and its accompanying items are then stowed into Meri’s new bag, and at long last it is all finished. “You can simply call to the violin to start or stop playing, by the way. ‘Violin -- play this song’ or ‘Violin -- play that song’ or ‘Violin -- stop playing’ will all work wonderfully. I keyed a number of linguistic permutations of those commands into its recognition, so you needn’t be precise. You can name it, too, if you like. Just carve a name into its side. A little bonus gift for a new customer.” The woman has once again regained her mask of composure, and it’s with another wink and smile and a genuine-sounding farewell that she sends Meri off. Weirdo or not, the gal certainly has some wealth to her, and Rachelle likes repeat customers that don’t haggle.
Meri has no wealth. What are you talking about? She is just a poor tattoo artist....Please ignore Rachelle, this woman has no idea what she is talking about and clearly is making up some kind of stories. The violin itself is going to be something that Meri is going to have to revisit later, once she is capable of responding to it with the care and emotion that it deserves. For now, it is safe and sound in her bag that Meri was so fixated on having. There is a nod, perhaps to serve as indication of a goodbye, and then the tattooed woman gathers her belongings and heads on her way.