| Welcome to Chaos Crisis, dear guest! Chaos Crisis, otherwise referred to as CC, is a roleplay based around superheroes and villains that saw its start on Gaia Online. It turned out to be somewhat of a success, though it eventually became a little too big for little ol' Gaia. We are currently open and accepting new members! So what are you waiting for? Jump into the action! |
- Pages:
- 1
- 2
| Just Business | |
|---|---|
| Topic Started: Aug 3 2015, 07:56 PM (461 Views) | |
| Donald Connors | Aug 3 2015, 07:56 PM Post #1 |
|
[08/01/2015] ~1:00 pm ![]() - There wasn't a whole lot of choice involved in Donny's decision to crash at Croix's. Well, he could have chosen to roast outside all night, not really get any meaningful sleep, and possibly fuck up the first job offer he'd gotten his hands on in weeks. In the end, Donny decided that he'd just have to impose. He didn't like it, didn't want Croix to think he needed a handout, but this would be a one-time deal, anyway. Hell, he even opted to just sleep on the couch, really push the point forward that he'd take a roof, but he wasn't taking a bed. It was a matter of principle. Besides, couches were top of the line memory foam mattresses compared to asphalt or concrete, or the floor of a train-car. And, the place came with a shower, so he wouldn't be popping up like a disgusting, unwashed hobo. Just a cleaned-up hobo. The kind of luxury that those things on the beach just didn't quite offer, mostly the privacy, he didn't even feel bad about it. Shit, after the time he'd had in Virginia Beach, Donny convinced himself that he'd earned a little bit of luxury. After making quick work of getting ready, he was on his way to, where was it? Rockafeller's? Yeah, he was sure that's where Croix had told him to go. Under the name "Engel," and to look for some 16 year old girl, or something. It was a little off-putting but, shit, in this market, he wasn't going to be so picky. There were loads of reasons for that little bit of advice. Donny wasn't sure what they were, but there had to be reasons. Had to trust Croix on this. He'd even put on his best for it; Combat boots, white shorts, sleeveless shirt that, once upon a time, had some band or another featured, but had faded. Red and gray flannel with the sleeves rolled up, despite the blistering heat, sunglasses to maintain a good poker face, and his plumage swept off to the side, real business-like. That's just how he went to these things. It had cost him a couple, here or there, but it wasn't often enough to discourage this. Usually, he'd found, some kind of reputation preceded him and, most of the time, it was good. It was, as Donny saw it, a test. If somebody wasn't going to hire him for some perceived lack of professional integrity, well, they didn't deserve his expertise. A bit ballsy to pull it now, but habits were habits, and fuck it, he had Croix's word backing him up. It was probably a done deal already. "Reservation for a, uh, Engel?" The hostess nodded, Donny scanned around, hands stuffed in his pockets, shuffling after as the girl threw the usual small talk, how's everything, that's nice, have you eaten here before, and Donny responded with his standard, noncommittal great, thanks, nope. But wow, when they came to a stop at the table, Croix really wasn't joking. This girl, tiny, short hair, looked like a fucking porcelain doll, but person-sized. Well, legally-a-dwarf-sized. Whatever. With a glance around the place, a cynical little chuckle, he dropped into the seat opposite. Shook his head with only a little disbelief. This was a joke, right? He'd thought, maybe whoever the Engel person was just like, brought his little daughter everywhere. Or, maybe that assumption was right, and the guy was off in the bathroom? God, he hoped so. "Well." He tapped his fingers of the table, gave it a pause, looked around one more time for any sign of somebody else showing up. Jesus, nobody else was showing up. Great. "Oh. Oh. You?" Thanks, Croix. - |
![]() |
|
| Replies: | |
|---|---|
| Ash Engel | Aug 6 2015, 07:04 PM Post #16 |
|
She'd given him shit for the haircut, but they weren't that different. Ash had that habit all teenagers were supposed to grow out of. That streak of you told me not to so now I'm definitely going to. So the moment Donny established his hair as off limits? She wanted it. Ohh, she wanted it bad. Laughing. Short, small little sounds around Donny's words. She didn't flat out laugh in his face, but a scoff and snicker here and there as she kept her visual attention on the hush puppy in her lap. If she was actually going to eat it or just play with it, hard to say. "Hmm.. Hellion.." She muttered it, like she was testing it out. Or just distracted. Definitely, at that point, just playing with the food. "A spooge is what they use in horror movies. Little canons that shoot fake gore at the actors, like when someone off-scene gets crushed to death suddenly." She said it just as cheerful and passive as most every other part of the conversation. And pointedly left out the other, far more common meaning to the word. Whatever it meant to call Donny that, if it meant anything at all, was up to him to decide. After a moment more she finally returned the rolled around ball of grease and cornbread to the basket, then reached for something in her jacket pocket. Wallet. Like it was nothing, she thumbed four bills out very clearly. One hundred, each. She folded them over, held the collection of four up on display. "Let me touch your hair for four hundred." She looked back at him. Smiled wider. At this point, it was just a game to see what kind of price tag he'd put on his pride. |
![]() |
|
| Donald Connors | Aug 8 2015, 02:01 AM Post #17 |
|
![]() - At some point, Donny had to wonder how bad the market was around here if people were actually putting up with this girl's behavior. The creepy smiles, the straight up indignant little laughs, actively taunting potential hired-hand. For the most part, aside from her big crybaby speech about "you're not tough wah wah," or whatever, Engel really was far from the worst person he'd dealt with, but holy fuck was this not the most tedious shit. And her definition of "spooge," he might not know what she did mean by it, but it wasn't that. Tricky fucking business partners. At least the waitress returned quickly with his cheap styrofoam container. While his new employer presumably rooted around for some cash to pay the bill, Donny began shoveling the food in front of him into the box, looked up, and holy shit she was practically waving four hundred dollars right in front of him like bait. To touch his fucking hair. "No." Holy shit, no. On principle, no. Donny knew he shouldn't be, but he was actually baffled at this. Who the fuck would even consider shelling out four hundred dollars to touch some stranger's fucking hair? Obviously, somebody who liked to play games, and somebody with a fuckload of cash. Neither of those two things were things that he liked very much. And it wouldn't be a surprise if he could guess exactly where this would go. "Not for four hundred. Or, five hundred, or seven hundred." You can't buy me, was what he was trying to say. If it got lost somewhere in there, oh well. If this wasn't as close to the break that he needed as he was going to get, Donny would have fucking backed right the hell out of this way before it got to this point. Fuck Virginia Beach. - |
![]() |
|
| Ash Engel | Aug 9 2015, 02:20 AM Post #18 |
|
She was nicer to other people. Usually. Ones who were real professionals. Ones who could walk away from her. But Hellion wasn't either of those. So she took liberties where she saw them. And enjoyed every damn moment of it. She thought about it, when he made it more flagrant. "What about for one thousand?" She grinned, moved to return the bills to her wallet. If it was a joke or she was seriously pushing for more, trying to tempt him, god only knew. (Or, in this case, Satan.) Either way, once the money was returned and her wallet shut, she just looked him over. Thought about.. something. A lot of somethings. Twenty-two somethings, rapid fire in her brain. "I want it alive." She picked up the hush puppy she'd been toying with earlier. Took a bite. Chewed. Swallowed. Had manners, for a tiny psycho. "The shark. Alive, unharmed, in the flesh, in water- suitable water. If it's not in a condition I can properly sell it, count the job as a failure." Another bite. Still watching him. Still amused. "You've got a week, by the way. From now. Oh, and let Croix know about the job." She sat back, then. Returned her feet to the third chair she'd been stretching into. "I told him I was gonna ask you to pickpocket some people for a while. You should let him know plans changed." Or, more accurately, that she lied to him so he wouldn't give the kid forewarning. |
![]() |
|
| Donald Connors | Aug 11 2015, 09:26 PM Post #19 |
|
![]() - Not even for a grand. She was lucky he was hurting for cash badly enough to take this stupid bullshit fish larceny, but like hell was he going to sell his dignity for a grand. But hey, at least she didn't press it. The terms were named, which to him pretty much amounted to "don't kill the fish," make sure it was kept in good enough condition for her to sell. Whoever the fuck would buy a shark, Donny rolled his eyes at the thought, was fucking crazy. Though probably not as crazy as the person who agreed to steal it, or the person who'd hired him. But, sure. Fine. He nodded his agreement, closed shut the box of food that he'd in no way intended to eat, and- What. Son of a motherfucker, Croix didn't even know? No fucking way was he working for this insane fucking kid after this. Whatever. Fuck it. Croix must have expected this kind of shit, if he had enough clout with her to actually get Donny to this dumb little interview. He was sure the lanky fuck would take it swimmingly. "Fantastic. Cool. One week," Donny got to his feet, stretched out his arms, picked up the to-go box. He was just itching to get out of here, already. "You'll have your big fuckin' fish. We'll let you know what we need. Anything else, princess, or am I good to go?" - |
![]() |
|
| Ash Engel | Aug 16 2015, 01:39 PM Post #20 |
|
Truth be told, she had no fucking clue who in the hell would buy a shark, either. Someone out there, surely? Maybe? Eh. Didn't matter. She didn't think they'd manage to actually do it anyway. She just, as ever, smiled at him. Ate idly, watching him. Visibly amused at having settled the job of informing Croix on him. Maybe the blonde would be amused, or angry, or just passive. It was hard to say. He remained a little bit of a grey area for her to predict at times. Too weird of a guy, too strange a head. Interesting, though. And the people he brought to her were interesting, too. So Donny was getting a 'fun' job. And his acceptance of it was all that really mattered. Though it'd be funnier if she'd gotten to touch his hair. Ah well. Maybe next time. He stood, she turned her visual attention down to her lap. Her phone. When he spoke, something about her expression.. changed. She was still smiling. But there was an indescribable difference to it when she slowly looked up. Stared at him. Smiled wider, warmer. Harder, somehow. "Call me princess again and I'll tear your eye out and turn it into jewelry." She spoke delicate, sweet. Like it was an invitation, not a threat. Then, just as calmly as she'd said as much, she turned back to her phone. Promptly started to ignore him. "Have fun, good luck." As pleasant and utterly dismissive as possible. |
![]() |
|
| Donald Connors | Aug 18 2015, 02:45 AM Post #21 |
|
![]() - Oh boy, looked like he'd struck a nerve. "I'll tear your eye out and turn it into jewelry." Never heard that one before. He'd heard all that shit, the 'you'll need a body cast,' 'open-casket funeral,' 'it'd be a shame if your knees suddenly shattered,' the gamut of threats, implied or outright, that people in this line of work were so crazy about, but hot damn. That, that shit was creative. Completely not intimidating, but hey, everybody always said that it's the thought that counts. Donny liked that. Kind of cute, coming from a girl that tiny. Not a fucking chance in hell could she ever make good on it, but he actually cracked a grin at it, chuckled, and gave her a lazy, sarcastic little salute. Turning on his heel, he weaved his way to the door, stepped out in the heat proper. As for the food, he was sure somebody would appreciate it. And hell, maybe he'd consider giving Engel a call if he ever wanted another insane caper. Yeah, why not? - |
![]() |
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
| « Previous Topic · Rockafeller's · Next Topic » |
- Pages:
- 1
- 2
| Theme: Skull Orange | Track Topic · E-mail Topic |
1:10 PM Jul 11
|








1:10 PM Jul 11