Clean Business
Log Info
- Title: Clean Business
- Characters: Preston, Desdemona
- Place: Alexandria
- Time: Jun 4, 2018
- Summary: Worried for Preston's safety Desdemona comes up with a new place for him to live other than the Ox's dubious rooms. She also floats him a new business proposal: the delightful alchemical laundry potion he makes mostly for his own use has impressed her, and she thinks it will impress those who want to keep their sheets fresh in the Red Candle district as well. She is surprised to find he sees the merit in her plans, and a new partnership is born.
So Desdemona promised that she would find Preston a new place to stay. The Ox is getting a little too hostle, and she really doesn't like seeing him getting roughed up so much. So she's been shopping around in her free time to find a suitable place. This morning she dropped off some laundry with him, it had.. well it had a smell. She told him that she had a jaunt in the sewers and has vowed never to go into them again. That's another shirt that is likely to be burned.
Several hours later she knocks on his door. "Oi! Your Grace! I'm coming in so you should probably be dressed!" Not that he ever isn't, she figures he sleeps in a full outfit, with a head cap and slippers. She at least doesn't barge in, but when the door opens, she is wearing a dress. She actually looks respectable, clean, and someone that people wouldn't be embarrassed to see in public. Though the dress does not at all look familiar.
--
He is up. He is up, and in a royal blue vest and slacks, with a crisp linen shirt of white, sleeves rolled neatly up to above his elbows.
She does not have to burn her clothes. Her laundry is neatly folded by the door. It smells like flowers.
He sits at a table with his alchemy set, carefully drip-drop-dropping a greenish substance into a whitish substance. He looks up, and he arches an eyebrow. "You look lovely today, Desdemona," he compliments. "Have you finally discovered a passion for the ebbs and flows of high fashion? Or are you in that dress only because it was what was on the clothing line at the tail end of a heist?"
He sounds genuinely curious, not at all judgmental.
--
Desdemona knew keeping this mage around was going to work in her favor, and seeing that she doesn't have to buy a new shirt again, she is more than pleased. "I do look lovely." She says, giving a quick twirl before she points her finger at him. "Take it in, it's not likely to happen again, unless I'm being paid and extravagant amount of money." Despite her protests, she wears the dress well. Her posture is better and she moves like she was trained to be at court, and might even still fit in if the need arises.
"My dear, the only fashion is the sort that allows me to move. I could get lost in a leather shop for days had the purse to do so. Coats, hats, proper corsets that still let you breathe, that's where my passion is. I'd likely trip over my own skirts if I ran after anyone in this." She says flipping at the dress. "However, I found you a new place to live, and it's in the sort of area that would look down their nose at a 'ruffian'. So I went in disguise. So pack up your potions you're moving out." That is, if he still wants to move out, she's making a few assumptions in here.
--
Preston tilts his head. "That was kind of you," he says softly, warmed by the efforts she's put in. "Are you planning on staying here, then? Or are you moving out as well?"
He is contemplating this dress. And leather. Idly, he pulls over a notebook and a few extravagantly colored pencils. He used them to take his magical notations out at the Felwood though, so maybe for him they are more like a tool of the trade. He often idly sketches though, and usually it is magical things, so maybe that's what he's doing here. "Where did you find?" he asks. He will move, and stand, and get going, but he wants the answers to these questions first, even as he watches Desdemona twirl about in her fine skirts.
--
"Well I figured I'd stay with the rest of the ruffians. Unless you'd like me to join you? It would be cozy as I could only afford one room." Desdemona says with a wink and a raise of her brows. "Besides, someday I'll have enough money for a ship and I'll be whisked away." There is a wistfulness to her tone, this is a very long time to be stuck on the ground after all!
"Well I thought of getting you up with the rest of the nobles, but that would only last a day or so with the funds we could pull together. So I got a place in the Memorial Gardens district, the Memorial Inn if you will. Sort of mid-range with a boring and obvious name, but the glasses are polished, and less people making unwanted advances on women. I should know, I wore this dress in a few of them and I only got a few sheepish glances. I saw the rooms and I found them secure so you won't have to worry about your things as much."
--
Preston pauses in what he's doing.
"You could. Come with. I imagine cozy might be quite worth your while, under the right circumstances."
It is said very casually, just sort of slid across the table there with a dozen ways for it to be turned down with face to be saved on all sides. "Even if the call of air and sea whisked you away eventually, I've quite enjoyed your company here and now. I would never try to keep you from that which calls to your soul, Desdemona."
He smiles at the description of the place, and adds, "It also all sounds rather perfect. That is the nicest thing I do believe anyone has ever done for me you know."
He may be saying it all ass-backwards, really, but he says it. And then picks up a pencil of a different color. Lots of flamboyant reds, blues, and blacks in this diagram.
--
Desdemona's brow raises higher as her smirk becomes devilish. Leaning forward with her hands on her hips she tilts her head. "My my, I put a nice frock on once and you start talking about getting cozy." She fans herself and sighs. "Well perhaps a night or two won't go amiss, it would be lovely to sleep in a bed that isn't filled with vermin." Oh she calls his bluff, she can't resist it after all.
Though his next words cause her cocky grin to soften. "I also enjoy your company, and it is nice to hear that you wouldn't be someone to anchor me down. Although, if you wished, I could find use on a ship for someone of your talent."
She tilts his head at the last phrase and crosses her arms. "I'm just looking out for you. I know it's weird being shoved into a completely different world, and if you don't find your footing you're likely to fall off of the boat." She notices that he's continuing to color and she leans forward. "I've also come up with some business ideas once you've stopped doodling."
--
He turns what he's doodling towards her.
It's the bare outline of a female form. He's taken the dress she's wearing. Drawn it. Modified it. The skirts are hiked up on one side nearly to the waist, while the other side falls down to the knee. Tight black leggings with thigh high boots. A corset to cinch it, comfortable, breathable. He's added some shoulder armor and a pair of wrist braces, somewhat stylized, and a very nice, flamboyant hat with a big feather. The side where the dress is out of the way is sword-side, so her rapier is sort of sketched in there. He's added a few more accessories and touches, doing some interesting things with belts and cinches and pouches and places to hold things. A good marriage between looking beautiful and looking ready for adventure, all without conveying much ruffian status at all.
She calls his bluff, and he smirks faintly, knowing she thinks it's a bluff and knowing he won't push it past that. "Perhaps I will join you on a ship, should you find one," he says. "The whole wide world is my oyster now, after all. But what are these business ideas of which you speak, fair Desdemona?"
--
Desdemona looks at the sketch and even reaches forward to take it in her hand. She studies it, perhaps doing some mental math to see just how much something like this would set her back. She whistles and actually looks flattered. "This would be... I mean the skirt might have to be a touch shorter so it stays off of the ground, and oh my look at those belts, so many belts." She says as her eyes grow wide. "Oh and the feathers are such a nice touch, and it leaves my hands to be free for swordplay. And the pockets! I could hide so many things in those pockets! People rarely think about pockets this days." It seems there are fashion things that she enjoys and he might have hit the nail right on the head. "This will eat into my ship-budget but, I think it might be worth it." She passes it back, reluctantly so he can pack it away. "Keep it safe for me, or at least until we can find the right tailor to get it done." And the look on her face suggests she is going to get it done.
"Well, if it were my ship, you might have to do a little test to get on, but I'm sure I could put a good word in to the captain for you." When he asks about the business, she leans against the table and smirks. "Now, don't shy away before you hear me out, but you could make an absolute killing by selling your laundry potion to the Red Candle District." She's serious.
--
Preston smiles as she tells him to save it, and he packs the sketch away into his carpetbag, carefully closing the notebook.
She then lays out her business plan. Golden eyebrows quirk well into his hairline as he flashes back to the shirtless, leather-clad, whip-wielding elf looming over him as he tried to peel himself off a table. "Er," he says, which is an opening of sorts for her to outline the plan, if not an immediately enthusiastic one. He's hearing her out, anyway, if with quite a bit of trepidation indeed.
--
"I'm not saying you have to go in there! I know it's not your idea of a great time, and I don't blame you some of them are a touch sketchy." There are even places that Desdemona herself will not go. "I would be your middle man! There are some very good places that if they had, say a lovely smelling room despite how many customers have been in there, would be held in a higher regard. They would bring in higher clientele and it would mean happier people over all. It is a win-win honestly and all you would have to do is fulfill orders. We could give them a few samples for free, and when they're hooked, have them put in orders and tada! Profit!" She says excitedly.
--
Preston quirks an eyebrow. "My lady, that is a fabulous idea," he says, quite truthfully. "I think we should do it. Do you think you have some buyers identified? Have you done any asking around about this? Perhaps they have some of their own solutions. I think..."
He pulls his notebook right back out and starts doing some math, then pushes it over. "This would be the cost of materials for 50 orders. Do you think you could sell them at a price that would give us a substantial profit over this?"
Because the idea is fantastic, now they just need to get down to brass tacks. "Who'd have thought wizardly laundry solutions would be our solution," he says, amused.
--
Desdemona expected a little more resistance than that, however when he agrees whole heartedly and starts mathing the whole thing out she looks excited. Reaching for his pen, she starts doing a bit more math. "Well, when you're trying to sell something you need to factor in time and labor as well. So if this is the base cost for fifty, than we can easily multiply that by three, and that should easily give us enough profit, and keep you settled in to the Inn no problem. I have a few places in mind already, it was actually on one of my most recent visits that a dear friend noticed the smell of flowers on my own clothes and asked how I got it to do that. I can easily talk my way into some of the nicer places and get us settled into there." She says with a wink.
Laughing she hands back his pencil and smirks. "No one would have thought bringing great smelling sheets to brothels would be the cause to end all of our woes. But when you stumble into town with light pockets, you use whatever resources you can!"
--
"Agreed," Preston says with a smile. "And. Well. These people deserve to feel nice. Just because I'm flustered at the idea of having one randomly loom over me does not mean I disrespect them. He was just. Rather startling and frightening and. Ahem."
Don't mind him. He points to what he was doing. "That was just more of the laundry solution now. It was my mother's formula, one of the first things she taught me. Rather a simple thing, with such a small application of real magic as makes no difference. We should come up with a name for this stuff. Something catchy. And if inns wish to get in on the action too, why the devil not?"
--
"Ya know that weird elf guy with the whip isn't from the Red Candle district right? Most everyone there is nice and soft and very friendly. That man seems to have a... well I can't put a finger on it but I think he feels superior? I suppose he has some sort of... well I mean who really goes around shirtless all the time." Sure it takes some confidence but even Desdemona doesn't have that level of it.
"I'm sure we'll come up with something. Breath of Fresh Air or something equally as wistful and mysterious. It'll be the talk of the town, and when the inns hear that the brothels have better smelling sheets than they do, you'll be finding yourself settled into the Noble district in no time. Until then, we should get you packed and over to your new bunk before they change their minds."
--
"He's got eighteen levels of obliviousness then," Preston says, shuddering. "But to each his own."
He thinks about the name and says, "Aye. And when we do, perhaps a winsome label, though that might up the price slightly. Not by much, I imagine. It's not tromping through the Underdark to make money, but then that and stopping horrible things appears to be some version of my idea of a good time."
He shakes his head, he never would have found that to be the case in the past. "The good news is, apprentices could eventually make this with ease. If we can ramp it up just right it might become self-sustaining over time."
--
"Not every can be as classy as we are Your Grace." Desdemona smirks as makes a bow. She helps him gather his things and leaves the alchemy items to him. She vaguely remembers what some of these items are from her own father's alchemy bench, but it's been years since she's seen the stuff. She at least remembers what items should never touch other items.
"Labels could easily be added to the price of materials, it shouldn't be a problem to factor that into the price. Perhaps we should give discounts to buying in bulk. Or at least make it feel like a discount." She says devilishly, as she thinks. "I mean, I'm sure we're still going to have to wad through sewers, swamps and the Underdark, but this will at least maybe allow you to buy your own place, or perhaps open your own shop. Something steady between stabbing things."
--
Preston does carefully pack up each alchemy bit, and notes, "I am a little terrible at the stabbing of things. But if you want me to identify the problem when everyone else is done stabbing, I'm your man. Still, I hate being totally defenseless. Someday I'll be able to hold more spells in my mind, and then it will be better."
Finished packing-- everything he owns still would fit on one of those emergency gliders-- he stands and gathers it all up. "Please, lead the way," he says, with a smile, though he offers a gentleman's arm. And despite his invitation (serious? Or not?) he withdraws a pouch.
"As it happens," he says, "I believe you have provided me with several services which have allowed me to make money since you got here, and now you have come with a vastly valuable business partnership. Allow me to offer this as your take, which may indeed allow you to get a room if you want one, in celebration of what surely will become a profitable business for the both of us."
--
"Why do you think I'm keeping you around. If I help you while you're still learning than you'll be more than happy to help me when you're throwing fireballs around." Desdemona jests as she helps him gather the last of his things. She doesn't have much more in her room herself, she's been used to being on the go for decadeds now, no sense in having too many objects to pack up.
When he's ready, she'll take his arm like a proper lady. She seems happy to keep up this charade, after all she wants to at least appaer respectable when they walk into the inn. However when he presents her with the pouch of money she furrows her brows. "You don't have to do that." She says in a serious tone. "Why don't we put it toward the dress. After all, I thought I was staying in your room?" She dangles the carrot again, turning her eyes toward his with a mischeivous glint in her eye.
It's not that long of a walk from the Ox to the Memorial, they have to go over the river that cuts the town in half, but still if Des does stay, it's not that far away. It's worlds more respectable than the Ox. The tables are clean, there is light music in the tavern, the food smells well prepared and hearty and the glasses are not covered with years of grease.
--
"You can stay in my room if you wish," Preston says with a faint smile. "But I won't have you staying in my room simply to avoid bedbugs. If you want to stay in my room to do other things, well and good. Nor will I send you back to the bedbugs simply because you do not want to stay in my room. The only equitable and wise thing to do, therefore, is to make sure you are comfortable one way or the other. Either in your own room or my own. I could simply pay for it. I am trying to navigate your prickly pirate-I-mean-airship-person pride."
He raises his eyebrows and says, "You are also the first woman I have ever invited into my room, so I am trying desperately hard not to be sleazy. You are kind to me and I like you and you are quite beautiful. I am growing fond of you and do not wish to leave you to languish at the Ox. One way or the other. You're my friend, Desi. One way or the other."
--
Desdemona lets him go through his reasoning, keeping her mouth shut for once so he can get it out with out her sarcastic interruptions. "I do not think there is an ounce of sleeze in your body Preston. You could study an entire book on how to be sleezy and still be incapable of doing it." She nudges him with her shoulder and shakes her head. She's being too vague, to coy, and that's not helping the poor confused little mage. So she clears her throat. "I want to stay in your room because I wish to spend time with you. I too am navigating your own personality and I have to say that they are waters I am not used to. Despite my best efforts you have grown on me."
She sighs and looks up to the sky, and watches a passing airship. "How about this. We get you settled, purchase a bottle of wine, and whatever happens happens. If nothing happens, that is fine, if something does, that is very fine. Either way, I hope to spend the evening in good company. If we find it all unsuitable, I can purchase my own room, or continue staying at the Ox. It's not as bad for me, it's honestly what I've been used to for the last several years. I am very rough around the edges, despite this lovely dress," She says, trying to lighten the mood just a touch.