Description: A proposition is brought forth. Can Leilani afford to say 'no'?
Calling Elle a social creature would be a severe misnomer. She's not really someone that associates with others well on an emotional level. While she has an understanding of empathy and social dynamic, she has very little desire to conform to the social norms for the fact that she finds them severely constraining for what she likes to do.
That being said, there's an understanding that some things in life can't be done by yourself, and that like the song says, we all need somebody to lean on. Elle's learned that the one thing that seperates her from all the others out there is the recognition of the fact that it's never a one man job.
Elle is a straightforward type, and as such she's called Leilani for a meeting. There's very little beating around the bush to the call. She's made a business proposition with the promis of more details when they meet in person. The place? A small streetside cafe' at around 7:30PM. It's not high class, but it's quaint enough to make it discreet. Elle is sitting at the table, dressed in a maroon red pantsuit and black blouse, her guitar case never more than a foot or so away.
She cleans up pretty well, and it's obvious from appearance that she's not poor. Not by a longshot. Whether it's too impress Leilani or not, however, is up for grabs.
The differences between the women are almost night and day. Where Elle is someone that doesn't deal well in social situations, Leilani thrives. The Hawai'ian makes her living interacting with people, and her warm demeanor outside of the ring tends to show this. She doesn't conform to the social norms, however, instead bending them to suit her own mold. It helps that she's both attractive and exotic, the novelty factor helping her twist men around her fingers. Sometimes, it helps with women, too.
Being called out for a business meeting is somewhat different... Especially since the offer is to Leilani directly, rather than to the Syndicate or to Mr. Big. Elle has proven herself an interesting woman to the Shark, having first called her out for a shitkicking, and now, this. Even with interest somewhat piqued, the Hawai'ian's sense of time doesn't falter... and comes to the cafe a little before eight. This is as close as she gets to punctual... Hawai'ians are notorious for not giving a rat's ass about deadlines.
Clad in a marled greystone shrug, a black mockneck and black highrise trousers, the Shark steps gently into the cordoned-off area of the cafe where the meeting is to take place. Her eyes dart around the patrons for a moment before she spots, not Elle herself, but the guitar case, which leads her to the rocker as well. Walking over to the woman's table, Leilani casually pulls up a seat before it's offered, pulling hair out of her eyes as she crosses her legs. "Aloha ahiahi," she says gently, voice like a warm summer tradewind. "Don't you look tasteful this evening."
Elle nods. "Same to you." She can accept a compliment, but she rarely dwells on them. The words are taken in the spirit they're given, and Elle gestures to the seat. "Sit. I've already taken the liberty to order us some soda. I hope you don't mind Coke," Elle says as she picks up a briefcase. The woman is businesslike in a very dry sense. The demeanor suits her, however, and so rather than giving off an awkward vibe, she's very calm, smooth, and cool about it.
"I'm going to be straight with you," Elle heads to the point. "I'm what you call a mercenary. Specifically, I'm a skill broker with an interest in side businesses of my own. What it boils down to is that I have a thumb on the pulse of almost everything in this town that doesn't have to do with the Syndicate." She pulls out a folder, and opens it up.
In the folder are projections, spreadsheets, and numbers. Those are important for accountants. What's more important is the glossy artist's rendition of a decent sized entertainment venue: A casino.
"I've done my homework. You're one of Mr. Big's top girls. You're smart, you're pretty, and you know how to do all the background work that most people don't think you can do. I'm here to make an offer of employment. I want you to be my casino hostess and PR person," she explains, Elle's dull brown eyes looking into Leilani's. "I'll be honest. Big may treat you great, or not. I have no idea. But I'll treat you like a partner in business." She picks up her soda, and sips.
"I hope you're interested."
Leilani has no problem with the cool, almost robotic actions of the woman she's sitting with. Men try to play it off all the time, and seeing someone whom can pull it off well without looking fake is actually somewhat refresing. "Coke is fine, thanks," she says, smiling gently as she lifts the glass to her lips. What comes next surprises her slightly, and she's glad to have the glass of dark liquid there to hide the slight drop in her smile.
There's areas of business that SouthSynd isn't in control of? This could be interesting to discover.
Listening quietly, the Hawai'ian sets her glass down and starts looking over the artwork from the folder. "A casino, eh?" she says, nodding thoughtfully, a look of interest on her face. The artist's rendering looks quite nice, indeed, and the few numbers that her eyes flicker to are large. This is definitely something worth looking into. "Y'know, I'm really surprised you'd come to me about this. I mean, I really don't know you, you don't know me... Shaking her head slowly, eyes focused on the images, she looks like she desperately wants to say yes. "But th' offer looks oh so ono," she says, voice tinged with desire.
Putting a hand over her mouth, she taps her cheek with her index finger for a long moment before looking back up at Elle. "I'm gonna need some time to think this over. How long until the casino opens?"
Elle's lips twitch into what might be a smile. Then again... it might not be. The woman is either actually emotionally cold, or does a wonderful job of pretending. Nevertheless, it's not a threatening gesture. Just a reserved one. "Two months, in Metro City. I need to pull permits, but I have a few strings with the planning commission that I can pull, and a contractor that works under the table."
"Mr. Big goes through hookers like tissue paper," Elle says bluntly. "You're obviously not one of those fly by night girls, since I've done enough record checking to know that you're always around in his publicity stills. He's keeping you around for more than just the fighting, too. If you can set up an appointment with Mr. Big, that means you have access to areas in the Syndicate some normal dumb whore would never have."
Her hands sweep up the pictures, and she closes the briefcase, pulling out a pen to scribble on a napkin. "I also take chances, and what you don't know? I can teach you. It's not hard, and most of it is what you already know. If someone's busy looking at your tits, they're not looking at the numbers." The handwriting is like an engineer's: clean and neat with blocked off letters and numbers.
"And if you can manage a big spoiled teenager like Mr. Big? You can handle whales and high rollers. One eighty kay a year, plus bennies and tips from the casino whales is what I'm offering. It's not a life of idle luxury, though. I expect people I hire to work, and I expect them to get along with the rest of the team members." Expressionless eyes never leave Leilani's, save to place an order for baked salmon. "And I may need your skills in fighting from time to time."
"In short? I may not 'know' you, but I know a good risk when I see one. For all I know, you could turn me into the Syndicate tomorrow... but I'm betting you won't. Take a risk on me, and I'll take a risk on you. On a good day, you get paid. On a bad day? There's always mercenary work."
Two months. That should be enough time to think things over. The fact that the casino's to be in Metro poses a slight change in her thinking, however, as the Syndicate's grasp doesn't really reach that far often. But... A hundred and eighty Gs? That's a lot to mull over.
Rubbing her chin thoughtfully, the Hawai'ian leans back into her chair as the papers are swept up, pulling the corner of her lower lip between her teeth in thought. "That's a lot to think over," she says, brow furrowing slightly in concentration. This is a really juicy offer. The only thing that's keeping her from accepting it right now... is Mr. Big. Not out of fear, but because she loves him. The insults directed towards the man of her affections help to steady herself in her decision to consider it, to perhaps even bring the issue to Mr. Howard directly. Bringing the idea to Big would be bad... She'd crumble under his gaze. Geese might see the benefits in such a venture.
...Wasn't Big in Thailand recently? Lounging around with random women at his beck and call? Hmm.
"You can be sure of one thing, wahine," Leilani says, blue eyes looking up to Elle's. "If I accept the offer, I'd be working. I haven't had a life of 'idle luxury' since small-kid time." She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly before saying, "I am gonna need a bit to t'ink this over. If for no other reason than to devise an 'out' that won't leave me as an open target for that lolo tru' bul' Yamazaki. I wouldn't be much of a face for your casino if it got cut off and hung on a towel rack, yeah?"
Though she's smiling, even laughing lightly... there's still a sense that the threat of such an event is very real, and she knows it. She's seen the Hit List, after all. Last thing she'd want is to see her name on it.
"You're just a number to the Syndicate," Elle says flatly. Her words are cold but the fact is that she truly means it. "We all are. The question is really whether or not I can come up with the right ones to smooth the transition." She pushes the napkin with the numbers that matter most to Leilani at her: the proposed pay scale.
"You think as long as you need to. It's an open postion. I'll be talking to others," the mercenary says in her usual blunt fashion. "I tend to look for ambition and skill. If not you, it'll be someone else. I offered to you first because you're the most qualified."
Elle's movements are caluclated to remove herself, and perhaps Leilani, away from the Syndicate. The fact is that weaning her from that organization would be a nice side benefit from her deliberate machinations. She's always devising plots, plans, and schemes. Elle is far different than many of the megalomaniacs and other criminal elements in the world. She does what she does because she almost has to. Her brain froths with ideas that have to be followed through, or she'd go insane.
Some would say that the mere fact that someone of her 'meager' power is able to go where she manages to go is a sign of that inherent insanity, but none that have commissioned the woman to do a job have been left disappointed yet. "I'm not the sort of person that blows sunshine up people's asses, and I don't feed people bowls of shit and insist that it's ice cream," she informs.
"If you refuse? No hard feelings. Professional courtesy, after all. I don't care if you're Geese's garbageman, or Rugal Bernstein. It's all the same to me. I don't have a dick to wave around and I don't have a magical source of energy that will give you power beyond your wildest dreams. What I have is money and opportunity," she says, pausing as her food arrives, and she digs into her fish. "You want a part of that? Call me. If you don't? Then I expect you to keep it under your hat. This is big-boy stuff. I can't stop you from running off and tattling, like I said... but I'm not going to threaten your life like a dumbass for saying no to me."
Glancing down at the napkin once, the Shark is forced to doubletake as she sees the amount. That's a lot of zeroes. Eyebrows flash upwards in surprise... even if she's been given the numbers audibly, seeing it in writing makes it that much more real. This woman is not kidding.
This is an opportunity of a lifetime. She'd be a fool to pass it up.
But Big...
Eyes flickering upwards, she tries to get a bead on the white-haired woman, looking for some sign of deception or trickery. Could this cold, unemotional woman be trying to smoke out a rat within the Syndicate? Tactics such as this have been used on low level flunkies like herself before. The bottom of the waterways on the outskirts of Southtown have seen the results of those events. Leilani likes the water, but not enough to stay with it permanently just yet."I'm glad to hear you're a straight-shooter," she says, slipping the napkin off the table and into her front pants pocket. "Surely you know that's something rare in my professions. So I'll be quick about thinking this over, and get back to you within a week's time. This way, you'll either be secure in knowing that your search is over, or you can continue forward with your other interviews. As a professional courtesy. But, no matter what, I won't leak a word of this to my boss. That acceptable?"
That's the thing. Elle always tells the truth. Then again, she rarely speaks unless she has something important to say. Since cheating, lying, and stealing infest the dark reaches of the underworld? Elle's a hideous anomaly that confuses and concerns people to no end.
And truth be told? Even though what's left of Elle's heart is little more than a burned out cinder, the fragments that remain love every single minute of it. The looks of concern. The slack jawed stares. The dumb realization that her opponent has been outflanked by what amounts to little more than a hired flunky. It's the little rewards that keep her thought-fevered brain churning. Like a child enjoying a peice of candy, Elle appreciates the small crisis of faith she's caused to Leilani, not because she likes Leilani to suffer...
But because that growing realization on the Hawai'ian's face isn't that far off than her own when she first started to realize the profit that could be torn from what seems like impossible situations.
She nods, chewing and pointing with a fork. "I can live with that. As long as you play clean with me, we'll never have a problem," Elle states before taking a sip of her soda. "I respect what you do. You took a shitty situation, and you made the most out of it. It can't be easy, hanging around people that talk over your head, think you're arm candy or act like you're too stupid to 'understand the big picture'." A smirk threatens to break her stone-faced mask. "It took me forever to earn some respect, and I had to broker a lot of deals to get it. Remind me to tell you some stories sometime. I've seen shit that would make what geese does look like patty cake."
That shitty situation is only half of what Elle likely knows. She's been stripping since she's been able to legally drive, having been orphaned twice over. She's pulled herself literally from the gutter into a position where she feels comfortable and safe, doing three things she loves; shopping, entertaining and being taken care of. If there's anything that Mr. Big can say he's done for her, it's make those three things happen.
But, for the first time, she's being offered the chance of being able to do all three... on her own. Not having to lean on another person in order to survive. This is severly tempting.
With a smirk, the Shark nods at the rocker's words. "It's actually kinda nice, sometimes, being talked over," she says, a devious smile crossing her lips. "You get to hear more than they expect you to understand. But I'm not the sharp knife in the drawer, by any means. I'm glad you think I'm kine akamai, it is certainly a change." Standing, she offers a hand forward, her smile growing gentle. "I have a lot to think about, so I should get to weighing my options. Thank you for the Coke, and I will get back to you soon. If only to hear some of these stories."
The mercenary tilts her head.
"Take care of yourself."
For any other person, those words form a simple farewell. For a merc? They mean something a lot more. In this particular case, they also mean a few more things besides. The woman takes Leilani's hand in a firm grip, the hands calloused from years of guitar playing. She's not precisely what you call a fair flower of womanhood.
The hand is shook once, and she lets go.
Elle has more promises to keep, and miles to go before she sleeps. As if she sleeps at all. The curse of insomnia plagues Elle, and it only makes the rare occasions of rest like this all the more appreciated. Leilani would be a welcome addition to her organization, but she understands the Hawai'ian's need to think and plan. Life-shattering events need to be absorbed slowly. The process of growing Blackjack into the premier mercenary team takes another tentative step forward.
Now, to see about a pair of thieves.
She picks up her briefcase, and slings her guitar case over her shoulder. Throwing off a lazy salute, Elle moves wordlessly away, both women headed in opposite directions.
Or is it in the same direction?
Log created on 23:55:30 06/21/2007 by Leilani, and last modified on 16:48:59 07/08/2007.