09.02.3013: Drumming Up Business
Summary: At the Violet Siren, several business deals are discussed.
Date: 02 September 2013
Related: None
Letha Ransom Sean Drake 

The Violet Siren - The Westend, Landing
The entrance into the Violet Siren gives the illusion of a squat, round building with very little character or flair. It is only when one walks through the ellipse-shaped tunnel, under the glowing black lights, do they realize that the Violet Siren is far more than it seems. The foyer is at the top level of a vast silo that tunnels underground for several stories. Its transparent-composite floors look down through the various mezzanines ringing the interior of silo all the way to the expansive dance floor at the bottom. A series of staircases hug the walls of the cylinder, leading patrons past balconies that supply seating away from the loud thumping and madness of the dance floor and a series of bars to wet ones whistle.

The entire lower level is nothing but dance floor with platforms to provide varied elevation to the bumping, grinding, and thrashing of the vigorous dancers. Scantly-clad waitresses maneuver carefully through the dancers with shotglass vials of neon-colored liquor.

September 2, 3013

The Siren is thumping tonight, patrons move in throngs as they enter into one of the busiest clubs in Landing. The music is a hard style rock to really get the blood pumping, and it seems to have the correct effect… there is zero room on the dancefloor at the base of the joint. The bar is packed as well, and almost all the tables and standing room is gone. Waitresses dance their way though the throngs of people to deliver drinks, take back empty glasses and bottles, and proide a slightly alluring tease as they move about gracefully.

Sean is dressed in his normal bartending uniform. Work requests had been slow, but one of the other workers was out sick and as such Sean took the chance to get extra hours in. He flys along the backside of the bar as he takes and fills orders, working to set glasses and pour drinks in time to the multitude of demands. His charming smile is always on, and his languid movements seem to flow with the beat of the music from downstairs.

While the rest of the crowd seems young, hip, 'with it,' or at the very least more completely excited about getting drunk and twerking it on the dance floor, at least one patron seems more concerned with staking out a claim at the bar and drumming up to business. That is to say, Ransom has occupied the same few feet of counter space, ordering expensive drink after expensive drink (but none too fast), and offering her services to the young and disenfranchised, those who needs a few quick bucks…or a bigger loan to get their 'amazing' idea off the ground. She's more than happy to give them an address and a time, to schedule a meeting with them when she can officially go over the books, give them all the terms and stipulations, and in general, ensure that they'll be indebted to her for a very, very long time. Tonight though, she's just doing a little fishing.

Letha Vallas is waitressing tonight, which means she is dressed to the nines in almost-but-not-quite revealing clothing that earns her plenty of leering and quite a few tips. She is standing near a booth, her tray aloft, and she is chatting easily with a very handsome, dark-skinned man and his posse. They are ordering big and expensive — the kind of ordering that could either get her lots of tips or almost none. She is doing her best to be flirty, but not too flirty, and she flashes them a broad smile as she steps away to turn in their order to the bar. She steps up to the side where Sean is working, linking the order on her tablet up with his line-up.

Trix takes in the orders and auto arranges the most opportune fulfillment organization possible for Sean, who promptly proceeds to do his own version of it. Her metallic but sensual voice nags but is lost to the din of the demanding voices. Sean flashes Letha a bright friendly smile while he works down the list to her order. It's minutes at most, but Sean's working hard to get her right back to the table to help increase the tip she could earn. Especially after seeing the drinks they'd requested. He finishes filling the orders and slides the tray in her direction calling out, "Good luck!" before he's off to fill more and more orders with that bright white smile of his, the one he uses to flirt across both sides of the preference line, hey… tips are tips.

Everybody's working tonight. Drake Danger is pressing flesh and being seen, like the band's manager told him to do in the wake of a release. And so he spirals down the silo slowly, signing autographs, stopping to chat here and there. But he doesn't stop his descent, although he has to turn back around here and there to toss a few parting words back at someone along the way. Stopping at the bar where Sean works and Letha waits, he raises a hand to get someone's attention, "A hefe." His other hand pushes back his hair from his face, and he blinks at the oh-so-familiar face two or three places down the bar, laughing dimples into his cheeks.

"Thanks, Sean!" Letha says to the bartender as she starts to heave up her tray of drinks. She spies Drake now out of the corner of her eye, and she greets him by sticking out her tongue. Some people have to work, her expression almost seems to say as she turns with a flash of leg and skirt toward the table. She is all smiles when she approaches, setting down the drinks with ease. There's more conversation, more harmless flirting, and then she's heading back to the bar to help the overwhelmed bartenders. She pauses near Ransom, flashing the woman a bright smile. "You got everything you need, honey?"

And all the while, at the end of the bar, Ransom watches. Waiters and waitresses come and go, drinks sit and sit and get slowly consumed, and the crowds press and swell and drift through. The crowd seems to swell up particularly when the rock star arrives and moves down and down the spiral to the bar at the bottom. "Sure, I'm doing perfectly well," she replies to Letha. "Though I am here seeking new clientele…and no, no, not the kind you're thinking of. If any of you waitresses or waiters are looking to set up some sort of investement for the future, for after the war, for school or whatever…well, I'm just the person you want to talk to." She flashes a big smile and holds up an actual business card, containing all relevant (and legal) contact information.

As he half dances down the line filling orders, he happens to pick up the one Drake requests and fills it quickly enough. Then he looks over at Ransom, "I'll take a card." as he nears, "Sure I can't get you something to drink?" before he's already turning to take care of an order that comes in right over Ransom's shoulder by one of the waitresses. Sean is done quickly though, before another bartender shows up and starts to help out. "Sean! You're wanted in the booth… somethings going funky with the equipment." calls over the local comm in the bar's undercounter. He replies and slips off to go take a look, odd that it's having issues but he's the right man for the job.

Drake gasps in mock horror at Letha sticking her tongue out at him, turning around to put his back to the bar. When the beer arrives, he nods his head in thanks, keying in a tip to his comm and swiping it over the reader on the bar. Ransom gets a look, a faintly curious frown touching his lips as he studies the woman who looks so out of place. And then there's another young man coming up to him with tablet and stylus, and Drake laughs again, nodding his head and reaching out to provide an autograph. As he's turned away, a folded card is slipped under his pint glass, so that it unfolds when he looks back and picks up his beer. The rocker frowns again, reaching out to pick it up and look inside.

Letha pauses, arching her brows expressively over those brilliant blue eyes. "Ah, well…" She looks a bit uncertain. Maybe economics just isn't her thing, and investment is one of those words that has her frowning. "I can definitely ask around," she says uncertainly as she takes the card. She looks it over, both sides, and then smiles a bit to Ransom. "Thanks," she peeks at the card, and then up again. "Miss Carmino… nice name." She flashes her a more at-ease smile. She then glances over toward Drake, and she narrows her eyes curiously.

"I do what I can to try and help the younger crowd. I figure, all the old-money is already tied up in old-money investors. But I'm not your typical investor, and I don't handle the traditional crowd." Seems as good a reason as any for Ransom to be patiently occupying a space filled with much younger folks who are partying, while she herself doesn't seem to be doing much indulging.

<FS3> Sean rolls Electronics: Good Success.

Drake blinks at whatever's on the card, opening his mouth, closing it, opening it again, and closing it again. He looks over to Letha, "Uh…" Passing over the card to the waitress, he shakes his head, "I just.. I don't… What the fuck?" He gestures inarticulately at the card, "Someone wants a shit-ton of money from me."

In the booth, Sean manages to notice what's going on and sighs. The whole system needs a reboot for the fix… which means quiet time and that will kill business fast. He cracks his fingers and gets to work, setting up protocols with Trix so that he can trigger several things at once to ease the transition when the time comes for it. It's seveal minutes of furious fingers flying through mid air like some weird tutting, before he says, "Trix… go." and while she starts to verbalize crucial points in the process, Sean starts to shutdown the music… then, quiet… it lasts less than a minute as Sean works to switch the rebooted streams over to the main system. He flips on something of his to get people back into it, and the bass style piece starts to get the rhythm back into the crowd. Anyone who knows music, would recognize a Schizoid mix if they don't already know Sean's work from the bashes and parties he DJ's for here in the Siren.

"What makes you not-typical?" Letha asks, her voice easily curious. She is distracted however the moment the note is handed to her. The words on it causes her to blink, and she actually sits back a bit. Her brows furrow up sharply, and she glances toward Drake. "What lingerie store?" She asks outloud, though she does glance over toward DJ booth and then back toward Drake. She looks up toward Ransom even while her brain works through this mysterious note.

"Let's just say that I don't constrain myself to the typically investment avenues that a lot of advisors do. Sometimes it's high-risk, high-reward. We can play it safe, but then, if you really want to make the big bucks, you have to take a little risk." Ransom seems to be in little rush to do anything more than plant the seeds for future business dealings.
<Underworld> Ren has disconnected.

Drake half-looks up at the sudden silence, the abrupt change distracting him even from the note he's suddenly received. He looks over to Ransom, "How much for ten thousand dollars?" That may be a little abrupt itself, and then he shrugs helplessly over at Letha, "Hell If I…" before he can finish up his band's name, he blinks sharply, "Oh fuck." His shoulders curl up a little, and he mumbles a bit, "Uh… Letha… that lingerie store. The blue teddy…" Spots of red start to gather in his cheeks.

Letha blinks at Drake. "Drake! No…" She glances toward Ransom. "He doesn't mean it." She looks at the guitarist. "You don't mean that." She blinks then at the mumbled words. It takes her a heartbeat longer to fully realize what he's talking about. Then she starts to blush as she begins to realize what lingerie shop he's talking about. She glances toward Ransom, and then back to Drake. She can't seem to manage words…

"Well, I'm not able to discuss exact sums right here, right now…but off the top of my head, I'd say that ten kay isn't an impossible sum. The best thing to do is visit me at a point where we can go over the books, look at your ability to meet the terms, and make it official." Ransom doesn't seem perturbed in the least by the interruptions of Letha, and instead, tells all that directly to Drake. Of course, to hide a smile, she's quick to turn and take a sip of her drink.

Several more minutes to watch the system run before Sean's fine with what he sees. He slips out and back up to the bar where he slinks into the routine once more.

Drake shakes his head at Ransom's response, "No… sorry. Just, a bit of panic. Don't mind me." And then he nods to Letha, "Yeah. I mean, what the fuck?" And then he gets his glass and starts draining it of the beer that he ordered previously. It's not a pretty process, as he seems to be trying to put the entirety of the pint down his throat at once. That leads to a bit at the end spilling down his chin, and he promptly wipes it off with the back of his hand.

Letha maintains a stern frown at the guitarist before she glances toward Ransom. "We will let you know if we need the help." Though there is a certain tension in her voice. She rubs a bit at her cheek before she shrugs her shoulders at Drake. "We should have known better." She then glances toward Sean as he steps up to the bar once more. "Sean… I'm taking my 15… can I get a shot of vodka?" She smirks a bit.

In a teasing tone, Sean returns, "Wouldn't that make the fifteenth, fifteen?" even while he slide the shot glass to her, a follow up one for Drake. "On me mister." he says, sure he knows who he is, but no need to call attention to someone who might not be looking for attention just now.

Drake sets the pint glass down just in time for a shot glass to run into it. He blinks, looking up to Sean and then offering a practiced smile, "Thanks, friend." He frowns slightly, "Wait… I've seen you about somewhere." And then the issue on his mind revolts, and he quite stupidly adds, "Send two more of those after, please." And then he knocks back the shot, blinking hard and looking back to Letha, "I mean, it can't be that bad. I'm sure it's just someone that someone blabbed to."

"I'm sure," Letha says uncertainly to Drake before she lifts her gaze up toward Sean and offers a bit of a smirk. "Fifteen," she clarifies before she takes her own shot back. She grimaces through it and then she shakes her head. "I'm sure it is nothing… nothing at all."

While the kids talk amongst themselves, Ransom decides that enough contacts have been made for the night. Each one has a card, and each of them know how they can contact her should they require her services. She finishes up her drink, and just casually slips out.

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