The Office

The Office is on the classier end of seedy cabaret/exotic dancing establishments. Which is to say that it boasts an actual chef, as in a person who studied to make food, and has enough bouncer presence on the floor to offer at least some low alcohol content beverages. Similar to other establishments of this nature, it's got your well lit stage, poles, a diverse cast of dancing women, and surrounding them a population of tables, velvet wing-back chairs, couches, and people who've got nothing better to do (most of them men).

Hudson isn't on the floor, and if Brennia were to ask for him, she'd be led to the interior office of the Office (yes, it's a bit much). Indeed, in the manager's chair, Hudson is in theory consulting an alchemy text but in actuality reading a men's magazine. He, like every person, procrastinates at work sometimes. Right now he wants to know all about the hot new Wontiam's sisters. He reaches for the milkshake on the corner of his desk, not even looking up at the sound of a knock on the door. "Yeeeeeup," he intones, on the casual side because he's not expecting a visitor and, frankly, is rather engrossed in an article about women's tennis of all things (those little dresses...)

Brennia sauntered in with her wings folded about her curvaceous form to mimic a cloak of a higher end variety and aside from the six foot two height and the tattoo pattern covering assumedly every inch of her caramel skin it was her posture and mere presence that commanded the attention of others. She attempted to keep low profile among any sort of crowd there, but she did look positively out of place while she took her dear old time taking in the sight of the lovely ladies dancing for coin. She would find the bustiest dancer and beam that mischievous smirk her way while leaning into her, slipping generous coin into the scantily dressed bosom. Brennia's compliments from her own beauty would be received with a blush, of course, while she leaned in to whisper something to the lass. Whatever was said caused the dancer to smile and fetch one of the bouncers so he could lead the enchanting avian to her destination. Anyone she passed or came into contact with seemed to get a sort of daze over them for they were experiencing their favorite scent from the woman and possibly reminiscing upon a memory. The bouncer would be the one to knock and hold the door open for the woman to which Brennia put on heirs; tucking a dark tendril of her own hair behind one of those large pointy ears and giving that contagious grin to him. She held out a hand to him with a, "Thank you kind sir, and merry part," in the ever silky alto tone of her's. A generous coin was palmed expertly to his hand - it was a little bribe to leave the adults talk. The bouncer may falter at her flirtations and crack a half smile before bowing and departing the managers office. She turned those large oceanic blues to Hudson while cautiously sauntering closer, bringing his own favorite scent with her, "I've heard you are quite the gentleman to ask in the way of experimental enhancements." That stone-heart-melting, dimple-inducing wide smile waned to a more mischievous half smirk at the man's face and it would be obvious, this woman is deviously dangerous but alluring nonetheless.

Hudson has his feet up on the desk as he browses this article about women's tennis. He usually doesn't follow women's sports, tennis being the only exception really. And right now he had expected to be bothered about some ministerial thing, he certainly hadn't expected a woman of his height who also happens to have wings and be a total babe. Disclaimer: the premises are filled with babes, it's just he doesn't know this particular one. She sorta reminds him a little of Rijanna, unofficial hall pass (not causing problems). "Heeeey," he says, in the abruptly warm tone of a man surprised but not unpleasantly so. He takes his feet down, he puts the magazine on the desk. He concludes based on appearance alone that this woman must be here about the job posting Eleanor put up. Eleanor had volunteered to take care of hiring more dancers, and he'd agreed, honestly it seemed like a pain in the arse anyway and delegating to Eleanor had made him feel good about Alvina and like he was doing the Right Thing (even though she had no idea and he had no intention of discussing with her). "Sorry, my co-owner Eleanor's not here right now," he begins to say, when she approaches and brings with her a certain smell that vaguely reminds him of something, he can't quite put his finger on it but, if he had to guess, seems a bit like the perfume of some woman he slept with once upon a time. Very specific but makes sense, per his reasoning, because hot women all know the right perfume to use to maximize after-the-hookup hot woman flashbacks in their intended target. He does not assess the scent any further, just concludes that it is a manifestation of some known phenomenon among hot women, much like how he uses the same AXE-like deodorant literally every guy he knows uses and Alvina for reasons beyond his comprehension (but that are endearing to him) is attracted to this smell and hoards his sweatshirts. Anyway, back to Brennia. She's asked him about 'experimental enhancements,' and he immediately looks DIRECTLY at her boobs, and then looks at the door, as if Eleanor might suddenly manifest and relieve him of this situation wherein this woman mistakenly believes he is some sort of boob illusionist. No dice. Welp. He clears his throat, looks at Brennia's face. "So, haha. I guess Eleanor's not here." Duh. "So, if you were hired, we don't do boob jobs, I mean that's not what I do, I dunno what they told you," he says. Yeah, so maybe a grave miscommunication has just occurred. "... but I don't think you need one, just so you know? Maybe talk to Eleanor, when she gets here." He is so professional but WHERE is ELEANOR. She is supposed to be handling this process! "You know I don't think we have an avian dancer," he adds.

Brennia stood a little straighter at his examinations of her form, she even opened up her wings which shrink the room even more so than her regal stature. Doing so revealed she was wearing a simple blue wrapped shirt made of silk and fitted black leggings. Although she refuses to dress herself as a royal, ex-royal, she still cant shake the way she was raised to carry herself. Usually a woman would be offended at such an assumption and she merely takes a deep breath before placing a hand on her hip, making her look rather bored. "Of course I could be a dancer and I would easily make you quite a richer man for it, sir." The word 'sir' slipped through her tongue and twisted it into something nearly perverse and man… Hudson, dude, if I were you I'd run. She shamelessly dropped her gaze down to her breasts with a smirk and a soft chuckle, "No, no. I believe they are the appropriate shape, but the only thing is… You wouldn't have costumes to suit me." A simple shrug would be given and she's pretty much right on this one, she is wide in the hips arse and thighs with a pretty nice bust, thick in all the right areas. One long blink before those royal blues settle on Hudson, "My name is Br," soft roll of the 'r' here,"ennia Smyth, but you sir may call me Miss Smyth." That grin returned again, exposing perfect pearly whites, as she looked down on his still seated position, "And I am not here to apply for a position on a pole, but I thank you." Not once did she blush, I mean, she's used to it by now and she can just not care less anymore. All the while every word ebbed out and dripped with a subtle, accidental, seduction, "You see, as a member of the Bard's Guild I have run into a road block or two myself with the way of the muse. I have taken a few others under my wing to help them work out their writers block and I found it easier in my day if I just… Well… Slept around, drank a lot, and used 'herbal' relaxers." She paused a moment while sauntering across the front of his desk, but mostly to get away from the douche-nozzle cologne he wears, "But they do not want to try my way, and it is perfectly understandable. I just want to find someone to help me mix something up with natural aid in a sort of… Tea." She turns fully to him again while studying his face in her explanations, "Does that seem like a do-able task? Or have I been miss informed of your…" she leaned in just slightly over he desk before finishing, "Abilities."

Hudson has already decided he will summon Crystal (real name is not Crystal, he thinks it's Lindsey) to deal with this audition situation. Crystal is his favorite dancer. Reasons why Crystal is the best: 1: Cenril Cubs fan, 2: has a three year old child and thus is full of sage advice and willing to listen to his lame dad stories, 3: friend to the other girls and thus keeps Office morale high, and 4: sometimes bakes cookies. She's also dating one of the bouncers, which is convenient for everyone. Crystal is a great employee and will totally handle this interview for him so he can resume reading about women's tennis and feeling good about himself. But then Brennia responds in a way that reveals their miscommunication and he abruptly stops draining his milkshake to consider her. She talks with good breeding. They lock eyes. Now he's embarrassed, and the more she keeps talking the more he realizes he'd been far off the mark. He could do without the pointed lean over at the end, they're both in agreement on her assets, thanks, now it's just EXTRA. "Wow, I may have misread the situation, excuse me," he says, looking chastened enough. His face burns. Ugh mistaking classy dames for strippers, is he the worst. (Imagine that, his instincts had led him astray...?) He gestures around him. "...uh obviously we've been hiring. Yeah I am the right guy you're looking for," he rises from his seat to shake her hand. He gestures that she sit. "Really sorry," he apologizes again, seating himself after that. He considers her anew. "So.. now that I'm thoroughly humbled and we're on the same page... Tell me about what I'm making into a tea?"

Brennia had been amused by his assumption, but was easily happy to pretend that did not happen and not torture him further in his embarrassment (Oh, but wouldn't that be fun). She was able to note the magazine he was reading, she knew why he wanted to read it, but wanted to out him a little, "Those Wontiams, though," she adds a smirk with a wink. Brennia glances back at the wing-back chair behind her as she stood rightly up with a soft sigh when she thought, 'where the hell am I supposed to put my own wings?' She decides to simply lean an arm on the high back of the chair as they continue their meeting. Those large wings do well enough to fold and hug tightly to her curvaceous frame while her other hand runs through her long silky hair, "I would hope you can keep a discreet ledger on our meetings even though I am after nothing malicious." Now that her outfit was visible it showed off bits of tattoo through the exposed skin under the wrapped shirt; weaker men always wonder 'Does that ink cover -all- of her?' . She let a small pause rest between them, maybe waiting for his agreement, but secretly she was trying suppress The Raven's desire to come out and play; to mess with the fool of a man and further his reddening cheeks, of course. Did her ink just… Flicker? Noooo, right? Anyway, Brennia won that battle as she continued, "There were these ancient tribes I've read about from my home land, we called them; Les Toujours Sages." It seems she speaks the same dialect as some other Avian male he knows of. The way she spoke the language sounded like sex itself in the way it rolled off her tongue, "Whenever they welcomed a new tribe member they would take them to a safe area off the beach where they sit in an oval formation. Each of them would take a sip from this bitter liquid called.. Déclenchement." Again more French, -Hudson's lucky day-, "But the recruit would have to finish off the liquid left and the catalyst took them on a spiritual journey. Whenever they came back down from their trip they would be much more enlightened with a plethora of stories." She chuckles softly, "I'll stop boring you shortly here. What I want, is something like that. All natural of course. Nothing addictive, only I would want them to be able to take their effects with only one sip as making someone chug down a bitter liquid seems a bit… Hazing. And even though I am opening a college for Bards, I do not condone such acts." One pointed black fingernail pokes gently on her own plump bottom lip, "Your thoughts?"

Hudson flashes Brennia a lazy grin, and angles the magazine so she can look at the illustration of the Wontiams sisters in action. "Would smoke me in tennis, that's for sure. Respect," he comments, watching her contemplate the perils of having wings and sitting in wing-back chairs. "Don't get a lot of winged ladies in here," he jokes, considering her. For the record... he doesn't wonder about the extent of her tattoos. Not the type of guy who strongly prefers the biker chick look, he's more into the basic woman look: good hair, low v-neck sweater, skinny jeans shearling boots... although truth be told his tastes are fairly wide-ranging insofar as hot women go, it's just right now they're also working and he's trying to put himself back in her good graces after having mistaken her for A Stripper, 'oops' . So anyway, he's not oogling, but he did file Miss SMYTH under, 'would' for the record. "Anyway, discreet, sure. Kind of in the business of discretion here," he gestures at the four walls around them and offers her a muted smile as she gets into the nature of her request and commences in part speaking... another language. Still, he nods along with what she's saying. He can follow, enough. "Yeah, I've heard about this stuff for the use of shamans and seers," muses Hudson when she's done. "Plant-based. Generally have to consume a lot of it, sometimes it tastes bad... To recap, you're telling me you want to make it a little more concentrated and less pain in the ass. Huh." He rubs the stubble lining his cheek. "I'm into it," he pronounces. "Though if you could bring me a sample of what your people used, would be a good starting point. You think that's doable?"

Brennia prefers dangerous or animalistic men… Something with real bite, not this AXE soaked 'bro-dude' foil wrapped turd in front of her and as of late she was leaning a little more towards women, anyway. Either way, he'd be right to not look at her as 'his type' as Brennia is a more desired, expensive, and exotic taste. She gives a sort of half grimace, "Well, the champignon sauvage - or wild mushroom type of which the Déclenchement was made from is far away in Island Vere. Even if the mushroom still grew there I cannot go back for I am wanted for murder." She said plain as day, very nonchalant, with a subtle smirk on her plump lips even though it pained her heart to say…. Sooo, yeah probably don’t mess with this avian lady. "What I can do for you is find similar plants in the climates it used to grow on," and as if she was certain he was going to accept her offer she ceased her leaning on the chair, reached behind her back where her wings met to procure a small pouch. She set the pouch of the before mentioned plants on his desk, "Here you are, The Sir." She then dropped another pouch which was a bit heavier and clankier than the last, "And this to get you started, you will get another once we work out the kinks and I can safely get my product out… I will also assume that you will only make this exclusively for the Bard's Guild, no?" Her large deep blues fell down on him and somewhere in those eyes held a secretive dangerous glint.

Hudson | Well......Hudson's mom loves him and thinks he's special, AXE and everything. He reaches for a pad of paper that until just now has served as a scratchpad for fantasy baseball draft notes. He writes the words 'chompinawn sovege' and then a dash and 'wild mushroom' . "Of course, you're wanted for murder," he says in a tone that suggests why not. Shoot the moon. Be wanted for murder if you like. Join the club, also. "I think that's a reasonable workaround for the situation," he adds, dryly, posing his pen on the pad and glancing upward at the woman. He's rewarded with a pouch that emanates a certain earthy smell suggestive of its contents. And then a second pouch, which is money. He likes money. He considers them both alongside her question. "If you've got a hookup for these plants on a larger scale, and I can make this product, I don't know why you'd want to stop at distro for just the bard's guild." She's got a glint in her eye and he tries to disarm it with a roguish smile. "Also the recipe, if I figure it out, is fair game. You ask a cook to make a pie and provide some apples, the cook's still gonna know how to make apple pie after. I think... we see what I come up with, and talk distribution later. I mean we don't know how rare these mushrooms are, so may be a moot point. You dig into it, I dig into this. So... yeah?"

Brennia totally sees where the man is coming from as that mischievous smirk returns on those plump lips and she opts to sit atop the edge of his desk opposite him, keeping one leg planted on the floor. Then it was visible, her best asset, yet - that arse though. She fakes a sigh, "If one could come across such a plethora of ingredients they can be my guest for it takes a bit of wing and wit to get to where the good things grow." She offered a wink for good measure, "Maybe I would be inclined to help get more of these ingredients for a cut of the profits… I can't go getting these dangerous things for free now, can I?" She grins down at him as she picks up some random paperweight from his desk to examine it, "And tweak the street product a little. I want this Déclenchement exclusive to the bards. You should even call it something else for street use… Maybe the rough translation of the word, Tripper?" She shrugs while placing the paperweight back down, "I don't know, I am not The Sir here." She takes his interest as an agreement and before he can argue on the last two points she stands from his desk to saunter out the door, "Merry Part The Sir. I'll be seeing you." The soft chuckle afterwards may be a little unnerving to most, but who knows really.

Hudson isn't unaffected by the fact that this request is coming to him from an attractive woman, but he's not completely lost his mind over it. It's just basic social psychology here, the message is softened when it comes from a pretty face (and oh hey, that arse, though!). Of course he wants to do this deal, in no small (in fact quite large) part to see if he can make what she's asking for. Now it's a challenge. He returns Brennia's smile with one of his own. "Well," he exhales, as if conclusively. "I think we're pretty close to an understanding. I think maybe I should see what I can make," he tells her. He reaches for his milkshake, attempts to drain it. It's mostly already drained, so there's just the sound of straw sucking air. He screws up his face as she calls him The Sir. "The Sir," he repeats in a skeptical tone, his attention wavering a little southward as she turns to make her way out. "Thanks, you know how to reach me," remembering his manners, he calls out after her. He realizes at the same time that it's a one-way street: he doesn't know how to reach her.

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RP:Usual Suspects

The Office