Participants:
| Scene Title | Sugar Schnookums |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Alister and Keira don't like each other much, but the business potential is there. |
| Date | April 13, 2018 |
Staten Island Trade Commission
Penthouse
Alister sits in his penthouse, drinking a very dark grape brandy as he watches what passes for TV these days. Sometimes he does have to take breaks and not do anything particularly important or intelligent, and this is one of those times.
He's in a white puffy robe that his sister tends to give him endless shit about, and has given Sibyl some spending money so that she can go out and enjoy herself.
Today is Alister time.
The maid, an older woman, let herself in about twenty minutes ago, and has been tidying up the place. She’s a little slower than normal, but that’s probably because she’s old or something, and it’s to be expected. She’s probably got a bad back, but needs the work so she puts up with it anyhow.
She also seems fairly preoccupied with the time, often checking her watch or any nearby clock while in the middle of her cleaning schedule.
Slowly, she’s tidying things up, close to Alister but far enough away to not be imposing or obnoxious with her presence. She dusts the desk behind the couch, currently, eyes hooded as she works — skimming the contents atop the desk while looking like a tired old lady. She’s already gone through the entire place almost, and has found out just about all she can from his penthouse, at least.
People are so stupid to hire other people to clean up their messes.
Alister's penthouse has a lot of personal things in it, though some of his ramblings about power can possibly be found in journal scribbles here and there. He is a business man after all, his business is typically kept in a very official capacity, in files with accountant crap and all that. While Alister himself does occasionally check them himself, to make sure he isn't getting conned, she'd likely take note of his locked file cabinets and such.
Though he does keep memos to certain people, such as Zain's auctions and such. He otherwise ignores the maid. She is old, after all.
He'll have to hire a younger maid later.
Seems like he’ll get his wish sooner than later.
There’s not really any sound as Keira suddenly reverts back to her normal self, tattoos bleeding in as her features slim and become much younger. And suddenly, there’s a gun in her hand, too, pointed casually at the back of Alister’s head, a smug smile on her face. There’s a soft and familiar click as the safety is removed and the hammer is pulled back, and Keira reaches into her pocket with her free hand, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter.
“Hey there, sugar schnookums. Figured I’d finally come and introduce myself.” She puts the cigarette to her lips, and with a single flick of the zippo, she’s lighting it. “Been watching you a while, and man are you an interesting little boy. I think I might even like you.” She takes a drag, and holds the pack of cigarettes over Alister’s shoulder, shaking it inquisitively. Want one?
"I don't smoke, but you're taking an interesting gamble, because now you have to kill me and get out of here alive, or not kill me and then get shot by me. You didn't really think this through very well." Alister states as he changes the channel on the TV, and then takes a sip of his wine. "What exactly do you want? I don't like my time being wasted. If you're an assassin, get it over with. If you're not, talk and then think about your life's mistakes."
“Oh honey.” Keira slips over the couch, landing in a seated position beside Alister with the cigarette hanging from her lips. “If I wanted to kill you, I could have done that…well, pretty much any time in the past few weeks that I’ve been in here. You really should clean up your own messes, it’s much less risky and it keeps prying eyes away.” She keeps the gun trained on his head.
“The gun’s mostly a precaution. Most people don’t really like it when a random person they though was someone they knew suddenly turns into me. Gotta be quick on the draw, since I really don’t like getting my face punched in.” She reaches out with her free hand, gently running a finger along Alister’s cheek. Briefly, she flickers, and Alister is pointing a gun at Alister; then, just as quickly, she’s back to being Keira. Hm.
“I actually was hopin’ to do business with you, but I gotta swing my dick around a little, y’know? Make you scared, because I can be fuckin’ anyone. Gives me that creepy factor, or somethin’ like that. Because I really don’t like being fucked with, and you might never know if you’re fucking with me while I’m watchin’ you do it.” The woman grins, taking a puff from her cigarette. “I’ll put the gun down if you want to have a nice peaceful little chat, though.”
"I don't think you realize how willing I am to have people within a certain radius of my existence killed until I'm sufficiently sure that one of them has turned back into you." Alister stares at her, then stares at the gun, as if he finds it offensive. "This is not how you conduct business with me, this is how you make enemies with and get shot by me. I'm not one of these thugs like John Logan. You're either going to shoot me, or you're going to put your gun away, apologize, and then state your business and get the hell out."
"How about that?" he asks, his patience apparently dropping to an absolute zero. He is clearly not a man with a high value on his own life.
The amused look never really leaves Keira’s face. “You’re in for a lonely existence, then. Like I said, swingin’ my dick around. I don’t have a dick, so I overcompensate in other ways.” She pulls a drag from the cigarette, letting the smoke lazily trail out of her mouth.
Then, she clicks the hammer back into place, twirls the gun once, and sets it back in her belt holster, and dips her head toward the man. “I do apologize, however. I’m quite aware that my grand entrances these days aren’t really in line with many people’s tastes. I sure wouldn’t like me, but I never really cared about being liked.”
She pauses. “You’d want to keep me around, anyhow. I’ve got resources that you want. You do arms, right? And food? I got my own folks and my own supplies, and I’m lookin’ to branch out a bit. Improve business for me, and for you too, by proxy.” The cherry burns brighter for a moment, and she lets the cigarette smoke drift into the air above her head.
Alister crosses his arms, seemingly in deep thought, then, out of his robe, comes a golden desert eagle, aimed at Keira's face. "I got this at some kind of auction, apparently stolen from a police station. I suppose I feel better now, though I'd feel better if I shot you."
He shrugs, then tilts his head to the side, looking her over. "So, business, and that ability of yours is also useful to me. What exactly should I pay you for, I wonder… maybe we can work out a deal where you provide a service and I help… improve your business." he states as if he had to somehow spit the word 'business' out from the tip of his tongue, like a bad taste. "I want you to know that the only reason I'm not shooting you is because you'll be incredibly useful. The only reason I'm pointing a gun at you is to be rude. I'm still considering shooting you in the arm, on principle."
“See, but if you shot me with that pretty li’l thing of yours, then I wouldn’t let you pay me money to turn into people and do all the spy shit it lets me do. And I could easily bring my supplies and ability to your competitors, giving them that lovely little leg up I’ve graciously offered you first.” Keira chuckles, leaning back on the couch and crossing her legs. She at least looks much better in the maid outfit than she did a few minutes ago.
She doesn’t seem too phased by the gun pointed at her, taking a leisurely drag from her cigarette. “Just think, Alister. I can be anybody. I can be a maid, I can be your body guard, I could be your fuckin’ mom for all you know.” She winks, tapping the side of her nose with a finger. “I can be your competitor’s maid, or body guard, or mom, too.”
She stretches her arms above her head, yawning widely. “In any case, I think I could be persuaded to provide services. You’re not my fuckin’ boss, ‘m just taking your money in exchange for doin’ a thing or two.”
Alister laughs, lowering his gun to slide it back into his robe. "Are you trying to seduce me with a shapeshifting ability?" he suddenly wonders, then shakes his head. "I'm a man of culture, it takes more than that to seduce me. I could very well throw money at people if I wanted them that badly, I don't need anyone to turn into them. Save that for the riff raff."
"But I am interested in the spying." he admits, turning to face the TV again. "I'd say spy on Hana Gitelman, but the sand in her vagina might somehow detect you and set off alarms. But, either way, I'll pay you to provide services, and I suppose I'll get your business in order. I don't deal well with disorganized operations."
The woman wrinkles her nose, shaking her head. “Nah, you’re not really my type. I’d try to slap that porn ‘stache of yours off anyhow during the act, it’s kind of offensive.” She laughs softly. “I don’t do that kinda shit anyhow. Doesn’t work like that.” After another drag of the cigarette, she snubs it out on the bottom of her shoe. To her credit, she at least throws the extinguished butt into the trash can of her cleaning cart.
“I don’t take usin’ my ability lightly. Like, don’t expect to hire me on that shit and get it done in a day. And you better have as much fuckin’ info for me as you can get before I even go snoopin’ around, too.” She glances toward the television, running a hand through her blonde hair. “And it’s not cheap.”
The comment about her business prompts a snort. “I fuckin’ ran Cabo. I don’t need that kind of help. I just need investors, and people to supply my shit to.”
"If you bring me a business proposal with folders and numbers, like an adult, I'll consider it." Alister says in his most condescending tone, then slowly stands, motioning a hand to the door. "I'll be updating my security measures and shooting you the next time you attempt to break them. I won't be awaiting your proposal, but if you decide to make it and bring it, I'll look it over. Now get out until you have something to show me."
The woman rolls her eyes. Showy bitch, this one. Instead of talking back, she raises to her feet. A business card is pulled from her outfit, and flicked onto the table. On it, there is simply a phone number. “I’m a fuckin’ criminal, I don’t do paper trails, unless it’s to cover up my ass and make it look like I’m not doin’ this shit.”
She straightens the maid’s dress, before turning to quietly peer at Alister with hooded eyes. “If you want my business, you can call me. If you don’t call me in a week, I’ll offer other people my business. S’just that simple.”
Then, she’s pushing her cleaning cart toward the door, humming a soft tune as she goes.