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 Posted: Wed Feb 03, 2010 11:01 pm
"Marisol, darling yes I realize he's gone..yes god rest his poor soul, yes I realize tragic tragic all that, I feel bad really I do." Riordan swore if he had to 'console' the woman he was going to take a scissors to his hair, just to give himself some form of entertainment..or maybe to evoke the slightest sliver of compassion or..damn what was it called, empathy? From himself. Really Riordan did not do 'boo hoo hoo's very well, and was probably the most cold fished man there ever was when it came to others personal lost, especially when it was all over a person he hadn't known for more then business reasons. Actually, considering the type of business it was he'd dealt with Marx, it was probably that much better that the man was dead. "Marii..maris..Deary please, I'm utterly heart broken over here just listening to you! Its truly a shame, I'll miss the dear fellow badly I assure you I will, but that doesn't exactly go and solve our problems now does it?" riordan rolled his eyes, glad he had the overemotional woman on speaker and he wasn't confronted with the problem of actually looking at her. Gods that would be unbearable.
Thrumming his fingers across his table top before abruptly logging into his personal 'memo' log on an opposite screen, making a little personal note to find someone other then Marisol to look to for potential 'Restaurants' and Order fillers. It was another thirty minutes at least before Riordan's antsy thin patience finally just unraveled and he was forced to cut the woman off in mid sentence. "I know!" gods did he knowww..enough already woman "But, back to the point please if we could, I need someone Marisol love, and you've always been so good about fishing these things out for me, and I'm positive that with this recent loss you've already ferreted out a new butler for yourself haven't you? Ah of course you have, such a sweet smart woman arent you. Now if I could just have his information..ah..oh I'm just going to order my usual take out, though I'd like to meet the man in person before hand. You know how I am, I'm a personal type, and I certainly don't want anyone over here." keying out a some quick initials and pair of digits into the same memo pad, a slow grin spreading over his face. He was not an addict..so he told himself..still addict or no he was in need of things, not only for himself but also for his mother who'd been bothering him about things for a wile now.
Gah he hated supplying her with such things, but who was a loving son to say no? "Maybe I could use your meeting place then darling, if you could set me up before hand, make sure he knows I'm coming, have me pre introduced you know, I'd love you forever if you would" Riordan's tone gleeful, happy and pleading sounding a bit like an eager puppy would. "Ah, yes I know the cafe, they serve wonderful Wushu Pork there. Thank you Marisol love, I'll be there within the hour, you just go on and let your new friend know about it" Riordan was a hair shy of ecstatic as he finally hung up on the woman, feeling that he needed a bath just to de-stress before going down to meet his new 'friend', just another business partner really. Maybe he'd be nice and buy the person a meal though? Yes that was usually a good way to start off business..a nice hot meal, some diet soda. He just hoped the man was carrying what he sought, so far as marisol was concerned, if riordan was just looking for his usual take out list then her friend would have it on hand.
Riordan was no fool though, and he wasn't about to risk getting screwed all because some ditzy woman was only half sure, he would verify the contents and the caliber of this person himself before letting his coin loose.
Still..first a bath..then clothes..then out into the cloudy cold day to meet his new access point into what was a much more seedy part of the world then he usually dealt with.
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Posted: Thu Feb 04, 2010 8:09 pm
“Mister Hughes, you have a call on line eight.” The smooth voice came from the holographic secretary that popped out of his desk. She was a brunette with long legs and a killer pair of hips. “Thank you Martha.” Dexter picked up the phone, made to look like one out of the 1950’s, and dialed in the 8. A few seconds of ringing occurred, and then the voice of a woman came. Dexter remembered this woman; he had sold to her yesterday. Her old supplier had died in a series of “unfortunate coincidences” as Dexter liked to call them. It just meant more profit for him; so what if it were underhanded and cruel? The man hadn’t been a very good dealer any way you looked at it, and the MOTHERLAND was already snooping around for him. Dexter had just done his patriotic duty and taken the dealer out of commission.
“Oh? Another customer you say? That’s excellent, very good. He what? Of course I’ll meet him. Oh yes, I know the place you’re talking about. What is he interested in? You don’t know? That’s fine my dear, I’ll just bring both. No, no trouble.” But it was. Bringing one drug out to a public place was a big enough risk; bringing two was asking for a firing squad.
And so Dexter actually had to change. His blue plaid pajama bottoms were replaced with a nice pair of jeans, and his bare chest was covered with a white shirt, then a blue button up shirt. On went his brown coat, then his best pair of brown shoes. Finally, he wrapped his blue scarf around his neck and began to walk out the door. Halfway out, the stench hit him like a brick. He’d forgotten to take a shower.
He showered, brushed his teeth, rinsed with mouth wash, and slapped deodorant on. After a fresh pair of underwear was put on, the jeans, followed by a belt, the white under shirt, and then the blue button up. He slipped on his shoes, his coat, and scarf, made sure he had his wallet, and then finally walked out the door. He punched a code into a mechanism outside the door that would only allow him or Yolanda to enter the house, and he began to hum a nervous sounding tune. The two drugs had been stashed carefully in one of his coat pockets, an inner pocket sewed in by Yolanda. She had done it on Valentine’s Day and put little chocolates in the pocket, which Dexter gave to his cronies. Dexter wasn’t a fan of chocolate.
He was walking along the walkway now, breath showing in the cold. He pulled his scarf tighter and began to walk at a brisker pace, catching sight of the little café that served Chinese food. Dexter wasn’t a fan of Chinese food, but he was a fan of making money off suckers, so he had agreed to make this deal. The two little vials went clink clink! against each other, muffled by the coat’s goose down lining. A bell tinkled when he opened the door to the little place, and the thousands of smells belonging to Chinese style cooking slammed themselves into his nostrils. Disgusting. Dexter grimaced and sat himself at a little table in the corner. A man with a fake accent asked him his order. Dexter told the man that he was waiting for someone. The man scuttled off to get him a glass of water. Dexter frowned at the dirty glass the waiter had brought him. All of these places were like this; filthy.
“Thank you.”
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Posted: Sat Feb 06, 2010 10:04 am
Riordan for once dressed less brightly then he usually would have, picking out a dull gray and black pinstripe vest with a white long sleeved undershirt. Long black slacks, with tiny blue false-diamonds adorning the bottom cuffs. He threw on one of his old and much cherished tan fleece down overcoats, adorning it with a long green scarf. One of those cute stripped ones with the super fluffy bobbles at the ends. Yes..dressed about as unassumingly as one with Riordan's personality and strange mannerisms could get. The only thing that stood out about him was possibly his hair, not that he would do a thing to change it.
The bright red locks done up in what seemed like a thousand different braids, stuffed with multi colored beads and shoved back into a thick pony tail. Swaying heavily across his back as he stepped out into the chill air. Brrb..he hated the cold, hated most days in Saltaire really. At least it wasn't pouring out or he would have entirely reconsidered making the trip on foot. As it was though, the restaurant was close by, and walking would undoubtedly be the fastest way to get there.
The restaurant wasn't too bad of a place, considering that it was the only one in town where a person could get half decent 'authentic' Russian made Chinese cuisine.
More happy to be out of the cold then anything else as he entered the semi-crowded restaurant, the lunch time rush still a few hours off which left plenty of empty tables and lonely tea drinkers about the place. His gaze after a moment settling upon one occupant in particular.. Shrugging off the annoying waiter who offered to seat him as he made his way over to the lone table "You wouldn't mind if I took a seat here would you? After all it must be dull to be stuck eating alone" all bright smiles and sugar as he spoke to the rather sour looking well bundled man. Riordan assumed this was the man Marisol had set him up to meet with, and he seemed to have some of the features she'd mentioned over the phone, though she'd been very careful about what she did and did not reveal.
He wished the woman had given him..if not the mans name, at least an initial or code to go by. Sadly she'd left him out and so he was stuck winging it. Feeling to see if the man was off, and if so, well then he'd have no choice but to leave and maybe try again another kind? Getting his fix was not worth the price getting caught.
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Posted: Mon Feb 08, 2010 1:54 pm
Russians making Chinese food, what had the world come to? Dexter remembered a time when Russians made Russian food. He didn’t know what Russian food was, but he knew it didn’t involve Wushu Pork. What was next, Irish people making Italian food? He didn’t doubt it. The “fusion” craze had hit in Dexter’s late teens. Restaurants that cooked different cultural foods began mixing and mingling with each other. The French bakeries were affected first. In typical French fashion, they had surrendered to a more powerful country, Germany. Food wise, at least. French bakeries began selling German Chocolate Croissants. Chinese places were hit by the Fusion trend next, fusing Russian cooking into their dishes. Following was the collision of Cuban and Indian food. And so, there were these dingy little restaurants all over the MOTHERLAND. They were all disgusting.
Dexter cringed at the sound of the door opening and closing. How could people eat this crap? Stand the smell? Look over the dirt and grime of the place? It made Dexter want to puke when he saw all the patrons shoving down large plates of noodles with God knows what crawling along the slimy strands. He swore he saw a cockroach one man’s stir fried asparagus. He forced the bile back down his throat and took a long drink of water, then wished he hadn’t. Grit fell down his throat and Dexter was furious.
Then this…fruit loop walked over to his table. What was this man thinking, dressed that way in public? Oh, right, he wasn’t. Dexter could smell the drugs on his breath as he spoke, heard the tell tale rasp of an addict in his voice. So this was his customer? Dexter scoffed inside his head, silently wishing that he could get customers that weren’t so obvious. He’d have to make this man swear to not give Dexter’s identity away if he were to be caught, like he made Marisol swear. ”Yes, it does really suck. You can sit down if you want. You’d best check your seat though, there might be a dead cat lying there or something.” He practically shouted the last sentence, directing it to the kitchen. He hated this place more and more every second he sat in the grimy chair.
Dexter looked at his customer, scanned him. This guy had to be addicted, and rich enough to stay off the street. He would jack his prices up for this guy. He’d make up a few extra charges too. An inconvenience charge for not specifying which drug he wanted, followed by a danger charge for making him bring two types of narcotics into public. That would be enough to get Yolanda a new outfit for that ridiculous party she wanted to go to next week. ”I take it you’re a friend of Marisol’s?”
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Posted: Tue Feb 09, 2010 9:18 pm
(lawls! Thank you for knowing my boy as the fruit loop he is!)
"My friend I would be utterly surprised and appalled if there were in fact 'no' dead cat in my seat..though really a cat would be improvement, it would show theyr'e trying to do something about the rodent problem. Haha, not that a thing can be done about certain other infectious critters and crawlies" Riordan chortled sweetly as he took the seat from across the man, giving him an all to bright grin considering the place they were in. Really mari had mentioned he was a sourpuss..not that he was an angry skinny bull of a man! Tsk..he really did need to get the woman to indulge more when describing personalities of those she ordered her particular 'take out' from.
Riordan's bright cerulean and lavender eyes closing slightly as he hummed in thought, taking a second glance at this..thing..whom he was buying from..Firstly the man had absolutely no fashion taste what so ever, secondly he seemed..ah..unusually surly? Then again it was his hide on the line moreso then it was Riordan's if things went badly, mayhaps he could forgive the man his tone? "Mnn, I don't know, are you a friend of Mari-sweets? You cant honestly tell me that you are dearie because if you say you are I'll know your an absolute liar on top of..well of whatever else you might be. The woman is, an acquaintance at best, and you are now apparently our new chef of sorts, ah service man, butler? Pick your choice of terms" Riordan purred teasingly propping his elbows up on the table and planting his chin atop his clasped hands as he stared Dexter down.
He wondered how much the man had brought, if he'd brought the right things...hopefully mari-deer had enlightened this man to his particular tastes. Because if not, well if not then Riordan had wasted his precious time wandering out into the cold for nothing more then a brisk and useless chat with an individual he'd rather not be associating with. Really if he could get his supply in any other fashion he would do it. By mail, or by drop off, or through his faucet even! Ah but alas the way things were regulated, the way they were watched. Some things still involved solely dealing with a person face to face even in this day and age.
His gaze absently twitching occasionally from the glass in front of the man before him to the few meandering customers and waiters, listening to the sounds from the rather slow moving kitchen crew. The cute little chime that rang off every time an order was completed and set atop the service line...
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Posted: Wed Feb 10, 2010 4:49 pm
Dexter could only stare at the man sitting across from him, eyebrows twitching slightly. Dexter couldn’t believe that this man was taking a public operation so lightly. He obviously had absolutely no idea what risks were to be taken into account when setting up a deal. MOTHERLAND operatives could be listening to them, disguised as the cheesy waiters or patrons. But this fool’s attitude definitely confirmed one thing for Dexter; he was a huge user. Dexter wouldn’t be surprised if he were on a high right now.
“I’d rather not be called anything other than your supplier. Call me anything else and the deal’s off, got that?” Dexter leaned forward, stare still deadpan. This fruit was just looking every which way, not a care in the world. What a freak. “Now Mari-sweets, as you call her, didn’t provide any information to what you like. So that’s put me in a nasty position – bring one or both? I decided to cover my bases and bring both. Do you know what will happen if I get caught? I-“ Dexter was cut off by that phony waiter again, filling up his water glass. Dexter swore he saw flecks of s**t in the pitcher. The waiter then asked, in the cheesiest voice possible “You know what you want now?”
“Rice. Just rice, nothing else. And make sure you wash it before you cook it.” Dexter didn’t care to hide the nasty tones in his voice. The fact that he had ordered anything disgusted him, but he had to if he wanted to keep a low profile. You didn’t just come to one of these places and not eat anything. The little waiter went to take the weirdo’s order, and Dexter began thinking. Was this even a good idea? What if this guy was a MOTHERLAND agent pretending to be a user? Dexter analyzed the man carefully as he made his order. The get-up was just…too real to belong to an operative. And the hair…there was no way that was a wig. But what if the MOTHERLAND had found this man and forced him to root drug dealers out? Dexter wouldn’t put it past the MOTEHRLAND, using underhanded techniques like that. Of course, Dexter also had to admire the MOTHERLAND for their craftiness. Whoever said that government was full of idiots was an idiot themselves.
The man had finished his order, so Dexter cleared his throat to speak. He looked the man in the eye this time, trying to read his buyer. Dexter wasn’t sure if this man could be read. “As I was saying, I could get a firing squad if I got caught. So quit your screwing around and keep your voice down.” Dexter didn’t care if the man got offended. Dexter knew addicts; they would listen to their suppliers if they were threatened with a lack of product. “Or I’m going to leave you to find another dealer.”
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Posted: Wed Feb 10, 2010 8:10 pm
Riordan resisted the urge to roll his eyes, this man whom he was forced to deal with, their new 'supplier' had absolutely no sense of humor whatsoever! He may as well have been trying to have a conversation with a very dark and dirty wall..a wall wearing a coat and scarf..not wearing either very well really. Instead forcing his voice down a notch along with his eccentricity, it was truly a pain to have to deal with someone so rod iron strict, but for the sake of his needs, and overall sanity he would just have to deal with it. Maybe he would find someone different after this? Marisol had obviously had bad luck with her choosing this time around, getting stuck with such a man.
"Well forgive me then Mr. Buzz kill. I thought you dark seedy types absolutely reveled in code names and other shady things." he huffed gently, slightly teasingly, his shoulders slumping a tad in dissapointment, Mari had failed to tell the man anything useful, and so the poor fellow had needed to drag both substances out, really he only truly needed one at the moment, but getting both would save him another trip later, even if it was a tad more risky for them both. His eyes fell to the table as the waiter showed up, shaking his head as he declined food "A soda will be fine, maybe a basket of those fun little cookies if you have them.." hopefully the drink would be dark colored, as his 'suppliers' glass of water looked none to appetizing.
Normally would never eat at such a place, at least nothing more then the funderful little fortune cookies, but never anything more! Not when he could have his own type of food perfectly prepared at home within his own clean well serviced kitchen. It wasn't worth the bit of change it would cost to buy any substantial amount of food from this place...probably poisoned food at that, who knew what the people put into it.
Riordans eyes widened slightly as the man mentioned pulling out, really he couldn't risk such a thing, not with all the time it would take to set up a new supplier, he needed what he needed absolutely immediately. "Mnn, no need to get so antsy like that, I'll keep sweet and quiet as you please. Besides, it'd be a shame if a person such as yourself happened to vanish under such unfortunate circumstances." he smiled lightly, trying much harder to ease his voice into a discreet whisper. His multicolored contacts slowly shifting into hazel-orange tones as they went through their electronically set color spectrum.
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Posted: Sat Feb 13, 2010 7:53 pm
“We do. Just not the crappy little names that you’ve tried to give me. If you absolutely HAVE to call me something; I go by Bear.” Dexter huffed, giving a sidelong glance at one of the dirty walls. It irked him when people like this guy were right, which this fruit loops was. You never gave your identity in the underground; not even to your cronies. And in retrospect, the title “supplier” was painfully obvious. Dexter’s frustration had gotten the better of his logic. Dexter took another swig of water, this time spitting it out discreetly into a nearby fake bamboo plant. Where had this little dung hole gotten their water; the lake? More than likely. Drinking the water would probably give Dexter cancer twenty years early now.
Dexter’s bluff worked, the fruit looked shocked as soon as the words had left Dexter’s lips. “Vanish? No one vanishes. They just die. Like your old supplier.” Dexter gave his first dry chuckle of the night, probably letting out too much, but he was more than willing to open this guy’s eyes to the true nature of the underground. Drugs were a no-nonsense kind of deal, one you didn’t ******** around with. ******** around meant you were dead within a week. That’s what the old supplier had done. Usually though, death came from the MOTHERLAND. Not this time.
Dexter designed the scheme, and it was foolproof. A crony was to be sent out to the dealer, dressed like an addicted bum. He would offer up all he had (a measly 200 gold) and the supplier would deny the offer. The crony would then begin to beg and plead, grasp onto the dealer’s leg perhaps. After that, the dealer would start calling for help (Dexter had concluded the reaction by a psycho-analysis of the man), and Dexter would come to the dealer’s aid in a MOTHERLAND police get-up. Dexter would then pretend to beat the crony with an electric nightstick, and then tell the dealer he was safe. As the dealer walked home, two more cronies would bag him, and then drive to the lake. Cement blocks would be tied to the man’s feet, and he would sleep with the fishes.
The plan worked, and Dexter was now serving a majority of that man’s customers. This fruit, unfortunately, was one of them. “Now, tell me what he used to ‘cook’ for you.” Dexter’s face went from deadpan stare to a smirk. He hoped this information scared his new customer; scared him enough to shut his mouth when not spoken to.
The food came, and Dexter saw pieces of egg yolk in his rice. He coughed to get the waiter’s attention, and then stared the little man down. “I said nothing but rice. Why the Hell is there filthy yolks in my rice?” Dexter’s face was deadpan again, though his brow twitched in anger. If he weren’t keeping a low profile, the rice would be in the waiter’s face by now.
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Posted: Sun Feb 14, 2010 10:21 pm
"Bear..Like a cuddly wuddly little teddy bear? Or bear like..well you know those overtly large hairy men whom perform in those leather get ups." Riordan sneered brightly, the overly exuberant man chuckling quietly against his hand. Gods he'd gotten a foul tempered one, he truly was missing his old 'supplier' right about now..ahhh..leave it to the fates to hand him such a miserly humbug of a person. Still, one cranky loud foul man with a supply was better then nothing at all. At least so riordan hoped.
Lips twitching slightly into a frown as his counterpart so rudely spit the nasty looking water into the plants pot. Fake or not..ewww..the poor poor plant. If the person didn't like the way it tasted then why on earth was he drinking it at all! Ah, hell never mind, none of his business yes, right, still eww.. "Forgive me for being a person of a higher caliber, I prefer cleaner terms then 'died'. Vanished, went missing, walked off the face of the earth, took a long extended trip to some lovely hotter then hades island. You know, a bit of genteelness goes a long way in life, and in conversations." Riordan tsk'd softly, watching with a mirthful gaze as the waiter came to hand them their orders. Well really it was mainly 'bear's order and a plastic red bowl full of Chinese fortune cookies and dark rather sludgy looking soda for himself.
Rio vaguely wondered if Bear believed in fortunes and other such things, though upon taking a second look at the man, he decided it would be much better not to ask. "What did he cook..well I cant say he'd ever invited me over for lunch or any such things, but he did make me and mari-sweets up some wonderful dishes. Nothing big, nothing to fancy, but absolutely delicious" he muttered casually, cracking open a cookie and nibbling on the pale sugary, over baked pieces.
"You know...for someone who's oh so good at what he does. At least I assume you might be, you really do rather fail at encounters. If you don't mind my saying at least, not that I'm trying to be rude! Oh no no, just adding in my own personal good-feely tidbit of advice." absolutely avoiding the soda as he further nibbled on the dry cookie, he really did wish it tasted better. Still his goal was the fortune inside. "Now..my dear no longer present friend used to be so sweet in bringing by eyedrops whenever I needed them, as well as certain meals. Though I must say my favorite dish of his, were his psymelon shakes, the man could mix some wonderful drinks you know?"
Honestly the fact that his previous supplier had been killed off by this ruddy excuse for a creature didn't truly phase Rio much....the man had been a business partner and nothing more, as supplier tending to his demands, it was a shame, but really not a loss so long as a new supply trade could be set up and regulated rio wouldn't put up much of a fuss. Though it was a tad bit frightening, meeting such people who could go about doing things so coldly. Murders and such, and this person..this one seemed like the type rio himself wouldn't want to be messing with. No..Not considering that he preferred breathing just fine. Even if his existence wasn't much it was still better then none at all.
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