RP:One Man's Waste Is Another Man's...

Part of the The Dust Up In Cenril Arc

Summary: Hudson is taking a hands-on approach to his new real estate development venture, and also is on daddy duty, so he takes his daughters to a toilet show room. There, he encounters Zedidiah, because the halfling was eating cookies and aggroed one of his daughters. Zedidiah, however, proves to be more than a toddler tantrum causer. He reveals that he is in the waste teleportation business. Hudson is intrigued by the prospect, in particular as it might help his other (real) business. The men exchange contact information.

Pop Up Toilet Showroom, Cenril

Hudson is here in a warehouse off of Merchant Street that acts as a popup showroom for whatever merchant is renting it at the moment. Right now the place is full of toilets, Magical Toilets, you know the kind. Hudson is here with his daughters, who are both both captivated by the same toy (you gotta own duplicates if you have twins): it's this dumb handheld thing, with colored beads, that you can move around, like the closest thing to a very primitive ipad. Alvina (their mother) has 'a thing' (Jerry Seinfeld voice: why are women always having things? What are things?) and the nanny is off today so he's in charge, and he has to go pick out the toilets for the condo he's acting as developer on... with his two year old consultants. "Daddy I want juice," says one of them, as he rolls up with the stroller. Real cool right now. "Me too," says Hudson, trying to look like he's a man with a lot of money and in need of some toilet purchasing advice .. and not some like, guy in a custody dispute who just snatched his kids at daycare and decided to go on the lam in a toilet showroom.

Zedidiah has left his incredibly bored horse and cart proudly declaring Gawkroger Shipping Company cleverly parked across the street, because he is currently perusing toilets incognito. That's right, this unassuming halfling whose suspenders are surely earning their keep is also the owner of Gawkroger Sanitation, and perhaps soon...Gawkroger Waste Management and Toiletries. For now he meanders through the showroom, scouting for both product, location, and sales talent. Periodically he quizzes one of the salespeople, "Oh, is this the spring model with new low upkeep, or the fall line that had the built in odor eliminator?" He snaps his suspenders and clicks his tongue whenever someone dissappoints him with their answer. This is a man who knows a thing or two about pooping. He sneaks a roll of cookies from his pocket when he thinks nobody's looking and starts munching down. He did not expect the cookie senses of children to be in the area, however, and has taken inadequate precautions.

Hudson is not getting a lot of assistance in here and blames the existence of his daughters, who are now carrying on an inane conversation with one another ("Looooook!" "No." "Loook!" "Busy Harper."). Sometimes being a drug kingpin is inconvenient, like people don't recognize you even though you're balling, and stuff. Just, how is this a thing, this tiny jamoke is getting helped before Hudson is? (Eehhhhh sometimes we all are a little racist.) Hudson is studying one of the toilets that has a self-cleaning option. Incidentally he also is a man who knows a thing or two about pooping. (...He lowkey has an ownership stake in a cabaret and eats the food there sometimes.) "Daddy cookies," complains one of the twins, Harper. "No cookies," replies Hudson, trying to make eye contact with one of these toilet salespeople. "Daddy cookies," repeats Harper, louder, like her father's simply stupid. She points, and he finally looks, and notices that said tiny jamoke from earlier indeed has cookies. Man...... this guy should be fined for eating cookies in front of toddlers. "Sweetie, no cookies," he tells Harper. "Why?" she wants to know. "Just no cookies," says Hudson, abruptly trying to push the stroller away from Zedidiah so as to wipe her memory of seeing any and all cookies .. and in fact somehow failing and nearly crashing into the guy. "Excuse us," says Hudson, grimacing as he'd nearly run the guy over. "How do you get help around here?" he jokes. He's thinking: man, a stroller crash with a halfling could be ugly. Harper tries to turn in her seat and whimpers with the gravity of a death rattle, "Cookies."

Zedidiah seems to have the survival instincts of a deer and suddenly freezes as the stroller, easily a match for his 2'7" frame, threatens to destroy him. He freezes further as his wide eyes drift gradually up Hudson's frame, this stroller pushing daddy bigger than Zedidiah in almost every way (except maybe the tummy). Finally his jaws crunch the last bit of cookie in his mouth, slowly swallowing the cookie paste he's produced. He looks sheepishly up toward the salespeople he'd been monopolizing, then back up to Hudson and his children. He lifts the bag of cookies up toward the man, shrugging. "Cookies?" A breath later he seems to come to his senses after the near death experience and elaborates, "Although I don't know how much help these people would be honestly. What are you looking for, business or personal elimination? "

Hudson shakes his head silently at Zedidiah as if to say, Please no, with the cookies, put the cookies away, plz. No. Harper has aggroed, however. "Daddy," she says impatiently, as if he needed prodding. The other child, Luna, is sleeping, with her mouth open, praise all the gods at once. "We can't have this man's cookies," says Hudson, in a deflated manner, feeling a bit like he's watching a tornado slowly approach. Indeed, Harper's face becomes pinched with distress, and she begins to emit crying sounds. "Oh no, weasel, it's a little deal. This is a little deal," repeats Hudson, and with a very beleaguered sigh he unsnaps her from her stroller seat and bounces her in his arms and, after bug-eyeing at Zedidiah in a manner that's meant to convey what a special hell this day is, thanks A LOT, he addresses the true purpose of this visit: "Uh, I'm a real estate developer, looking into buying a bunch in bulk, working on a luxury property." That's the first time he's said that, dang it had felt nice! He makes a shhhh noise at Harper and digs out a ratty stuffed giraffe from the stroller, which appeases her a little. She immediately puts it in her mouth which is kind of gross but it's fine, he can only care about so many things right now. "So I guess business? Just want to get a bunch of whatever the fanciest model of... toilet exists. What do you ah..." Oh crud, what if this guy is also a real estate developer, who else goes to toilet show rooms really? "...are you also in real estate?"

Zedidiah panics, and it's quite clear that he's the cause of Hudson's most pressing concerns. He frowns and glances from his cookie to the girl, "Oh, its.. no she can...I've had quite enough, I think, if there's..." he fumbles a few more attempts to say she can have the cookies, without saying that out loud in case Hudson is not trying to raise his girl to grow a belly like Zedidiah's. He fiddles nervously with the clasp of his cloak until his eyes almost literally turn into dollar signs. A real estate developer! He smiles a sudden and oily smile back up to Hudson, "Oh, real estate? That's very interesting, very interesting indeed! I operate rather on the other end of this affair. Zedidiah Gawkroger, of Gawkroger Sanitation, at your service." He turns to lord his revelation briefly over the put upon salespeople. They don't seem to care. He turns back to Hudson, "For a luxury establishment you should certainly have a very fine veneer, but tell me have you given any thought to how you might recoup the expense? Sheer elimination is one benefit of your magical indoor outhouse, but some of these models can actually capture the waste in a separate location, where it might be reclaimed by a Sanitation worker. Brown gold."

Hudson widens his eyes as if to say, NO MAN! STOP OFFERING HER COOKIES! and then somehow, mercifully, Zedidiah relents in his generosity. Harper is sniffling, these tantrums were like aggressive but short rainstorms, Hudson believes they're on the other side of things now. "Aaaah, Gawkroger Sanitation," says Hudson, like he's heard of it before (no). He had given no thought to the teleportation of waste, but it interests him that somehow this is a way to defray expenses. He cocks his head at the halfling, considers him anew. "I... literally never thought about this before," he admits. "I'm putting up the capital," because I'm really a criminal, he adds silently, grimacing fiercely as Harper gets a fistful of chest hair from his polo. "Harper," her name wilts with pain, and he reaches to unclench her grasp. She squirms a little and eyes Zedidiah skeptically before putting her giraffe's leg once more in her mouth. "So I'm just here out of interest in the process," he continues. "But any sort of cost saving," due to poop teleportation, for example, "I want to take back to my architects and people. Gawkroger Sanitation, it was?"

Zedidiah nods and strokes his chin, as though he had any hair there to smooth. But alas, the only part of the little halfling to compete with Hudson's baby-attracting chest mane are the tops of his bare feet. "Gawkroger Sanitation, operating in conjunction with Gawkroger Fertilizer and Farm Goods, under the auspices of the Gawkroger Shipping Company. Although we're soon to branch out into actual hardware. I'm certain arrangements could be made, very favorable arrangements, if you allowed Gawkroger to outfit your bathrooms and also contract us to haul away the unnecessaries. Operating out of Xalious presently, expansion imminent, Gawkroger could be just what you need."

Hudson bounces the now-calmed Harper in his arms and nods along with Zedidiah's pitch. This could be good, a big contract with a company that handles teleportation of a product NOBODY will want to inspect. We're not just talking about moving waste anymore. "Well look," Huds is over looking at toilets now. He's also aware that he's got a limited window before another fit comes up in the child interaction rotation. "I gotta get these guys," meaning his children, "some food in a minute. But, I think this could be good and I want to know more about it. How about I'll tell my guys to reach out to your guys. Do you have a card with an address? Actually." He shifts Harper to hold her with one arm and pulls out a business card from his pocket, which he holds down at the halfling. It says his name: HUDSON LANDON. Beneath that is the address for a well known Cenril exotic dancing establishment (that cabaret) known as The Office. It's informally known by those in the know as a Place where organized crime happens. "That's my name, I'm a part owner," says Hudson, unable to resist the big swinging D move. He smiles in a self-aware manner. "I need to get a real office," pun intended, "Anyway, you can send me your pitch there, I'll get it to my people."

Zedidiah flushes slightly as he recognizes the name of The Office, then flushes again as he realizes that he's demonstrated he recognizes the name, and finally clears his throat as he reached the conclusion that Hudson is probably not embarrassed. Besides, business is business. He produces his own plain white business card with the address in Xalious Village of his office/building in front of a giant manure pile. It simply reads Zedidiah Gawkroger, Gawkroger Shipping Company, Import/Export. Sometimes it's best not to talk about poop on your business card, Zed has found. "This will be an amazing partnership, I will be sure to impress your people." He glances at his cookies a final time, but thinks better of offering them.

Hudson takes the card in hand and grins with blatant approval at the illustration of the manure pile. It's a cheap thrill. He puts the card in his pocket and nods at the halfling. "I like your card, Zedidiah," says Hudson, making the effort to say the guy's name now that he knows it. Harper emits an insistent grunt that he recognizes as a sign that she's done with this. "Alright, well," he cants his head to the stroller, and goes about slowly lowering and strapping the kid back into it. He extends an arm, trying not to bend too obviously, to shake the halfling's hand. "Be in touch," he says, not knowing whether it's true or not true. It's just what you say, in business situations, to extricate yourself. He puts himself at the helm of the stroller and, lifting his chin, commences wheeling about, this time toward the exit.

Zedidiah watches Hudson leave, the prospects of new business sounding chimes in his head. He smiles and waves, almost in a dreamlike state. Then the man and his stroller are gone, leaving the halfling alone in a toilet showfloor. He pops three more cookies in his mouth and snorts at the salespeople. "You guys are bad. None of you can work for me." He meanders his way back to his tired horse.