RP:Ralph Spends Quality Time with his Parents

Summary: Coming out of the Xalious chemist's, Hudson bumps into Josleen. The two spend quality time with the talking ficus tree Ralph... and otherwise catch up about their respective personal lives, whereupon Hudson reveals that he's entering into the "medical reagents" business. Josleen quickly catches him in a lie, and he folds like a house of cards and begs her to not tell Alvina that he's making narcotics. The two agree that the business needs a legitimate front (and someone better at lying about it than Hudson), and decide to explore the idea of Josleen working at the chemist's.

Outside the Xalious Chemist's

Hudson exits the Xalious Chemist's shop, a crate of reagents under one arm, and makes his way toward where he'd parked Griff, which incidentally was right by where Ralph had been restored to the earth. Huds had a fondness for the talking ficus tree, what could he say, he just wanted to see how the thing was doing. Ralph is talking to Griff, who keeps flicking his ear irritably, and, on occasion, releasing a fart toward the plant, like an octopus spraying ink in a reflexive defensive measure. It doesn't change anything, it's just a thing that happens, permeating the area with a generally bad smell so that when Huds rolls up, he needs to take a second at a few paces. Fan the air a bit. For Sven's sake man.

Josleen, despite living in Xalious, rarely visits Ralph for reasons Griff is now privy to. But the recent reemergence of the necromancers and their successful summoning reminded her that a ficus once warned her of this--not in a dream but in real, conscious, waking life moment. Best not to examine that too closely. She arrives shortly after Hudson and smiles reflexively. "Hey Huds. Didn't expect to see you." That old weariness clings and weighs on her features. Poverty begets poor diet begets less shiny hair and duller skin, but Josleen still dresses for the day in make-up, perfume, and a floral dress and spring-colored outerwear. She lifts her chin towards his box. "What's all--" Then it hits her. She pulls her scarf over her nose and flinches away from Griff. "Oh for Sven's sake, Griff. You need a veterinarian." She inhales the rose perfume in her scarf and circles Hudson to stand upwind of his ride's exhaust pipe.

Hudson is a few paces away from his ride - yep, upwind - and turns at the sound of Josleen's voice, likewise smiling reflexively. "Hey!" warmth radiates out of his tone, and in his surprise and the elan from the motion of turning, the corner of his crate sags, and a bottle of chemicals slides through the slats to roll to a stop at Josleen's feet. "Trying to up my business game making some medical reagents. Need to get life in order so I can be an adult I guess," says Huds, eyeing the bottle, now in the awkward position of being unable to pick up what had fallen because he's currently supporting the rest of the stuff. He can't read the label, and hopes that what had escaped from the crate isn't one of the more explosive items, or that Josleen would have no earthly idea what it was, or something. It's probably fine, he reasons. "He's been farting like a lord ever since he got here," moans Ralph, to which Hudson shrugs. "It's probably just IBS," he says to Josleen, nodding at the bottle by her feet. "Do you mind handing that to me?" he asks, then: "How's tricks? You should come visit Alvina. I think she'd really like to see you."

Josleen picks up the bottle and casually reads the label. During her time as a nurse she often brewed medicines and handled drugs including those like the narcotic in her hand now. Interesting. Without hesitation or question she puts the bottle back in the crate. Hudson is, afterall and allegedly, an alchemist and narcotics can be used for a wide range of reasons. Sure. Still, Interesting (TM). She has no idea what 'how's tricks?' means, but plays it cool and guesses (incorrectly) from context clues. Tricks = maybe Ansel? Since Hudson is now talking about Alvina? "Ansel's good. Though since you're asking, maybe he needs to go out and have a man's night." As fast as a blink she sees a bedlam of male bonding via debauchery and tacks on breathlessly, her words punctuated with overly casual hand gestures. "Like a low-key one. Nothing... too crazy. He's real tired these days. ...And, yes! I miss Alvina. I should make a trip to see her. Is she alright?"

Hudson mutters a quick "Thanks" for the bottle's return. He hitches up an eyebrow, at first with interest at why Ansel would be identified as needing a man's night - Is Ansel also depressed? Is this how people covertly identify their significant others as depressed to other people? - and then with mild amusement as Josleen seems to abruptly waffle on the prospect of a man's night with Huds at the helm. Before he gets to tease her, Josleen's craftily changed the subject, gone back to Alvina, seemingly sniffed out exactly what's the matter. Maybe she's just being polite, but all the same, a gimlet eyed stare here. And then a pause that extends a bit too long, and that's how he decides to stop lying, just to Josleen though. "Better now," he says, exhaling into a shrug. "She started feeling kind of bad, just getting down about the baby stuff awhile back. It's been rocky but yeah, going a bit better lately. She's been socializing a little bit more, so..." He offers Josleen a bit of a rueful smile. "What's going on with Ansel, is he still having a hard time finding work? The stuff in Frostmaw probably not making things easy?"

Josleen nods knowingly at Hudson's recap of Alvina's trials. "I'll see her," she says reassuringly. It's unclear how Josleen's presence will fix things, but it certainly couldn't (shouldn't?) hurt. "Yea, work. It's..." She rubs a hand over her collarbone in her telltale tic of anxiety. "Not only Frostmaw, but also here. The elections were disrupted by some... I mean, I'm sure you heard of it? Necromancers ripping beasts from another plan clear through the sky. The very thing Ralph predicted." She acknowledges the ficus with a nod and he swells up and rattles with pride. His leaves part for speech but she cuts him off. "It's been bad for business here too, and the village is hurting for gold. Everyone is." Those on the bottom are affected first, and Josleen through love and blindness committed herself to the bottom tier. If regret has sunk in (it has), she does not reveal that to anyone. Then again, perhaps it's a more obvious state of affairs than she admits to herself. "The Militia needs pay to be effective, but there is no money. The clinic has taken a hit too, needs repairs. Some merchants have made donations but..." She sighs. "Sorry, I'm unloading. It's a bad time here." She rakes his fingers through her hair like Ansel does. "What brought you out here anyway?"

Hudson draws a short breath and nods. "I think she'd like that," he says, and with that letting the subject of Alvina lapse for now. He digs a hand into his pocket, coming up with a pre-rolled joint, which he goes about lighting as Jos talks, no 'is this OK?' or anything along similar lines broached. Tendering the joint to Josleen, Huds blows a plume of smoke toward Griff, as if engaged in some Dragonball-Z-style battle of wills except with odors. "Complain all you like, it seems real bad," he acknowledges, raking the sole of his sneaker over some loose earth as he shuffles his stance. He lifts his gaze to Josleen, thins his lips. "Starting a business with a guy in the Mages' guild," he says ambiguously, gesturing at the crate. "This whole thing with Alvina, man..." He frowns, awkward pause. "I just want her to be happy again. You working these days, or I guess you're on step-mom duty?"

Josleen surreptitiously scans their surroundings for busy bodies, and finding none, accepts the joint. Thankfully her lips are pursed around it for her second pull by the time Hudson mentions 'step-mom duty' and so he may not notice how they tense further. Still, he may hear her teeth grind. She exhales slowly towards the floor, and Ralph who hungrily photosynthesizes that run-off into a ficus high. "I had a job at the clinic, but after my divorce I was made redundant," she says archly. "The clinic is run by the Mage's Guild." She lets him deduce the obvious politics there. Remembering her mother's warning that surliness is ugliness she forces a smile and chirps, "Well, here we are two months later and the clinic is in tatters. Not a great loss on my part in the end, I suppose." She passes the joint back. "Enough about me. What's your business about? How are you financing it? I'm looking into tapping in to funding options. For the village, I mean. Not us; we're fine."

Hudson makes a low noise in the base of his throat at this tale of Josleen's career crashing and burning. "That's harsh, I thought your dad knew people," he says, in the consoling manner of one privileged person to another. Sucks when somebody steals your silver spoon. What is that? He takes the joint and feeds himself a hit, blowing smoke once more toward Ralph, who is reciting the Gettysburg Address (Hollow Version) to Griff. "Well at least you got Ansel, hunky werewolf man, the hair on his chest will keep you warm if you can't afford oil to heat your place," jokes Huds, in an apparent attempt to make Ansel into the Old Spice Guy. He takes another hit and then passes the thing back to Jos, talking in a cloud of smoke, "Medical reagents. It's dirt cheap to get in, sells for a huge markup on the streets." It occurs to him suddenly that talking about MEDICAL REAGENTS with a person in the MEDICAL PROFESSION was maybe dumb, and so he waves his hand about in the general man turn signal for 'ehhhhhhh' subject change. "You know." The vague 'you know.' "Yeah, maybe you guys should look into it?"

"Daddy sided with Ezekiel too," she murmurs conspiratiorally as if Hudson alone, a fellow child of privilege, could further extrapolate meaning. She's cut off. At least until 'daddy' gets over it -- two months and counting. She smiles impatiently as Hudson goes on about the hunky Ansel. Nary a thought to spare on that subject these days. She smokes first, then replies after blowing smoke towards Ralph passive aggressively. "How are you distributing? Just selling on the streets? No shop?" Internally she squints at the idea that Hudson can undersell established shops. Maybe, but how? "What are you selling, exactly?"

Hudson's eyes grow at Josleen's first line of questioning. Maybe his brilliant facade of lies isn't so brilliant. Because it isn't really made up of lies. Distributing! He just said that he was selling this stuff in the streets? Gods, he'll need to do better than this if Alvina asks him a question, can't just respond off the cuff, apparently he sucks at it. He of course is struggling on his reply, and then her second question hits, and their eyes meet. And he flushes, in that awkward space between telling the truth or going for another lie. The heat on his face decides it for him -- to lie so boldly would be unbelievable at this point. "I don't know just yet, there's a recipe for this product that I think I can make some money on," he says to Josleen. "...It's kinda risky, but honestly I just want to make some money to get things where they should be with Alvina. Temporary thing." He rubs his face with his free hand. "Ugh. Please don't tell her, she'd get mad."

Josleen hides her grin behind knuckles as Hudson turns cherry red. Her questioning was innocent enough, for she had expected his medicinal business to be above board. His embarrassment is like an extra slice of cake. As a lady she should pretend not to indulge in it, but... She lifts the joint as proof of their quid pro quo system of secret keeping, at least as it pertains to adulterants. Instead of passing the joint back after her second pull she indulges in a third, which he may consider a tax on her silence. It occurs to her that money can be so easily traded for scruples, but not all scruples are equally unethical. Hudson's future customers would buy whatever he is peddling whether from him or someone else. Is enabling addicts ethical? The correctanswer is shaped by the coins in her purse, and she currently carries none. "I understand. Can't say I wouldn't be tempted if the opportunity came my way...," she says with a suggestive uptick in her voice as she passes back the bud.

Hudson's gaze carries a point as Josleen seems to relish in his failure. "Yeah, I need to work on the official talking points a bit," he concedes, directing his stare toward Ralph, who has started emitting a series of alarmed sounds, presumably in response to Griff's face nosing about in the ficus tree's shrubbery. "Griff, No," says Hudson, with some authority, before turning back to Josleen, gravitas recovered. Somewhat. He takes the joint in hand and smokes some of it, hell a big fat cloud of it, and considers Josleen in a silence that becomes increasingly pregnant. He's got an idea that Josleen's covering a bit for Ansel, and out of respect for his fellow man decides not to voice that observation. "You work in the medical industry," says Huds, eventually, eyeballing her. "Or you used to. But you could, again, I mean you're familiar with, you know, medical reagents." He glances in the direction of the chemist's shop, passes Josleen the joint. "Go on, kill it."

Josleen was about to shout at Griff too, despite the fact he isn't her beast. You could say her affection for Ralph is deep seeded. :> She has a budding concern for his well being. :} She wouldn't leave him to die. (: He's part of the family tree. :-o Hudson takes her bait, she suspects, out of kindness rather than idiocy this time. She takes mental account of this in his favor. She's about to kill the joint when she catches a passerby in the corner of her eye. Her hand falls naturally at her side and the bud hides against the folds of her dress. The corners of her lips twitch in and out of a smile as the idea of getting caught amuses her much like it did in Frostmaw when they got caught by Krice. She keeps it together this time. By the time it's safe to smoke again the ember has died out. She hands back the tiny roach to Hudson for him to light it and go through the finger-singing process of lighting a roll of paper smaller than a fingernail. She flashes a quick smile in place of 'please'. "You think so? How, exactly? I can't dedicate time to walk around the street finding customers. Besides, it's dangerous for a woman like me to get involved in that aspect of it. Not to mention..." Her head cants to the side as she considers her words. "I wouldn't want to cloud people's idea of me."

Hudson hides his smile behind a fist as they wait out the moment, bodies tilted just away, keeping the enormous hilarity of the situation a secret. Hudson of course assumes that it's a man's duty to salvage this last of the joint, and takes pride in his work moreover. "Quiiick," he even holds it for Josleen to have the last puff, and then he kills it. At her words, he chuckles, inappropriately, and makes a fist until the feeling passes. "Already have that part taken care of," he answers her, when he's relatively confident he won't laugh out loud for no apparent reason, "I was thinking more... Well we might need someone at the chemist's who can say it's all for real, the medical reagents business. Better than I can, I mean." He scratches the hollow of his cheek, thinking about Emelyan's tentacled threat to the chemist. "I know that guy, I bet we can ask him to hire you and he will."

Josleen's face splits into a clownish grin that mirrors Hudson's amusement at nothing. Her eyes are overly bright as she concentrates on the conversation and tries to look sober. Apparently nodding sagely and often is a sign of sobriety. "I know a chemist too, but..." She shakes her head a little too ruefully. "He's a minor. He's real smart, but only looks to be about seven. A lamb." Impulsively she bleats, "Baaaa." Her body starts shaking with a repressed laughter and she waves her hands frantically in front of Hudson's face. "Sshh-shh-shh, don't laugh." She starts laughing low in her throat. "Shshsh-don't laugh. Don't. Nonono. Shh. Shh!" The throaty laugh becomes a cackle and she beats the air in Hudson's direction as if her slip up is his fault. "Oh my Sven, stoooop."

Hudson begins to say, "I know him," but Josleen begins to straight up lose it, and he isn't long after her. The momentum of laughter when you're stoned. It's merciless. He tries to stifle a chuckle into a cough but that does nothing to stop the sudden hilarity that boils to the surface, inflames everything. "I'm not, sHhhhhhhHHHHhhhhhhhhHHH," he tries to say, his expression freezing in a grin even though he doesn't want it to. His face hurts. He laughs and wonders if others seeing them at a distance can tell that they're totally baked. The thought of all stoned people who can't stop laughing. As Josleen tries to put this on him and outright cackles as she does so, he doubles over and hugs his stomach, until eventually the feeling is containable. Not subsides, is containable. He feels he must be using every muscle ever invented to control his face. "I know that guy, he's uh, well we're cool," says Huds. A moment, while he cracks the seal of his self control. No laughter. Safe. "I mean he and I know the irritable guy who runs the chemist's. Rather work with you though, for obvious reasons."

Josleen slowly controls herself as Hudson does, though she flashes maniacal grins here and there at various mental images, such as Emelyan and Hudson, best bros and odd couple, grinning up/down at each other. The absurdity of this business venture is easy to miss when sober, impossible not to see while baked. But she nods at his inclusion of her and thereby commits herself to the absurdity. "Yea. I'll seek out Emelyan." She giggles for no apparent reason but quickly regains control. She sounds parched. "Mention your name? Any other details I should know?" Of course there are, such as where it will be made, how and where sold, but a sudden onset of peckishness makes her impatient.

Hudson can see very well that Josleen is struggling to keep her chin above water insofar as the maniacal cackling he'd witnessed moments ago is concerned. Of course she breaks. Weak willed woman. He grins and clears his throat into a fist, riding out the feeling that he has to join her and set off another chain reaction of giggles. "Yeah..." Containment. "...Just tell Emelyan that I suggested that you could help us with our medical reagents business by working in the chemist's," says Huds, who is not so much a planning or detail guy, himself. "He'll... he is better at the whole planning thing than I am. I'm just eye candy." He shrugs, snort-laughs, and then, picking up on the social cues that their little meeting has come to an end, turns toward Griff, who is now pointedly ignoring Ralph. Well, we all get there after awhile. "See you, Jos!"

Josleen doesn't particularly want to work with the old grumpy chemist, at least not for long, and is already formulating plans to set up a business front she enjoys more. Though considering her stymied cash flow, it's more of a long game plan. She shares none of this with Hudson because, like he said, he is eye candy. She feels the impulse to riff a joke off of that, but thinks better of it out of respect for Alvina (and Ansel?) "Will do. Take care, Huds." She waves him and in ignoble steed off, then leaves Ralph with a half-baked smile in search of snacks.

Part of the The Dust Up In Cenril Arc