Business As Usual?

[Charles O'Sulivan]

Date: Friday March 21, 2008
Time: ~2100
ISO: Edmund/Li Tseng

A small amount of mist began to fall as fog began to form in the chilly night. The weather was perfect for concealment as a cloaked figure walked up to the entrance of a seemingly seedy bar named the Den of Evil. None of the local muggles ever went there. However, it was a local hot spot for the magical community. Charles had been assured that on the inside the bar was actually quite nice and fairly upscale. This was perfect for him and what he had on his mind to do tonight. Normally, if a 17 year old boy were to be trying to walk into a bar, he would be trying to sample the merchandise. Not so with Charles. On the contrary, he was looking to provide merchandise to the bar.

Since the age of 10, Charles had been making whisky, bourbon, and mead as well as the occasional ale. He had an uncommon gift for brewing and distillation and had been working for over a year on making this profitable for him. The trouble was that, even though Charles could make an almost exact copy of a good Speyside scotch, it took too long for the whisky to age properly to be of good selling quality. Charles didn’t have that time. After his first year, he had been alone in a two person dorm room as his roommate had graduated, and NESM never assigned him a new roomie. This worked out great for him as he had converted the other side into a chemistry/potions lab. It was then that he had set up his still and fermenters. Quickly he ran into the aging problem, and so he set about to find ways to get around it. He first tried a simple aging potion and charms. While it worked, it didn’t produce quality alcohol. After several botched experiments and trying several different angles, Charles had finally found a potion that worked. He had basically made a new aging potion that slowly over the course of a month aging a product 18 or 4 years, respectively, without turning it into rotgut. It was a potion that Charles was looking to get a patent for later. Charles set up two stills for production. The smaller one was making a scotch whisky while the larger still was producing bourbon. To mask these stills should anyone walk into his room, Charles set up legit magical chemistry experiments in front of them. Currently he was attempting to make an infusion of murtlap essence and viper fangs (hopeful if it were successful would be an all-purpose anti-whelp/sting treatment) which would catch anyone’s eye and cover the slight smell of the fermenters. In return for a good batch of bourbon, a 4th year had charmed two notebooks of Charles. When something was written on one, it would appear on the other and the same for erasing. He had a purpose for these notebooks.

As he waited to see if anyone was on the street, Charles nonchalantly gestured at himself with his wand. His face greatly changed. He had a broader jaw and harsher features. In addition, he looked 10 years older, his hair had turned from auburn to a pale blonde, and his beard grew. Charles looked at himself with a small handheld mirror. Satisfied, he put the mirror in his cloak pocket as he said a few very quiet words. His voice was higher with a New England accent. Transfiguration, as well as potions, was Charles’ strong point and he was sure that not even his own mom would recognize him.

He walked up to the bar, and, after a brief handshake with the bouncer that contained 3 galleons, he was in the bar and headed to the barkeep. Sliding a couple of sickles to the keep, Charles asked if he could meet the manager of this operation. After a few minutes, Edmund arrives and gestures for Charles to follow him. He leads him to a cramped and somewhat disorganized office. As they sat down, Charles quickly came to the point. “I have a business proposition for you.” Charles began. “I can provide quality alcohol at well below market prices. The rate for a seller for a good bottle of 18 year old scotch is about 6 galleons 12 sickles 15 knuts. I can provide a similiar product of identical quality for 4 galleons flat. Bourbon is around 2 galleons 12 sickles 10 knuts, and I can provide for only 1 galleon 8 sickles. I brought a sample of my products with me if you would like to test their qualities. The scotch is similiar to a Speyside, almost like a cross between a Glenlivet and a Glenfiddich. The bourbon is similiar to Maker's Mark as I used wheat instead of rye.”

[!!!]

Edmund was drunk. Or hung over. One of the two. He couldn't really tell anymore. Ever since he began running the Den of Evil, he had found a upward spiral of ecstacy and drunken shenanigans. This was his dream job. He could imagine his father finding out that he was just a glorified bartender, the man would be so disappointed. But if he knew that Edmund was one of the direct workers for one of the most notorious men on the planet, than Chang Bo would not be so sad. From a young age, Edmund was groomed to take over his father's criminal empire. But one visit from another young man was all it took to have Edmund leave his family's fortune and latch onto another.

Someone told him that he was to meet someone about buying some alcohol. Edmund was momentarily confused, having to remind himself that he usually sold alcohol, not bought it. The confusion made him think for a moment before nodding. Whatever, he would see what the guy wanted. Edmund stumbled out of the VIP room and met with the young man. He had a local accent, Edmund noted his appearance bit by bit as they shook hands. They entered the small office and Edmund put his feet up, pulled a cigarrette out of an ivory case in his pocket and lit it with his wand.

The speech began and Edmund realized what the gentleman wanted. He was here to peddle his alcohol. Dammit, this is something Tseng should handle. Edmund listened to the young man, the numbers he was spewing were nonsensical to Edmund. The question was, is it worth drinking? That's the only question of worth.

"Let's see those samples. I'm parched." He grinned from behind his veil of white dredlocks and tossed them back, dragging off of his cigarrette once again.

[Jean Unruh]

(OOC:forgot to change profiles sorry )

This Edmund guy was not in the greatest shape. This Charles realized quickly. That could be good or disastrous depending on how Charles played his cards. As he began the sales pitch, apparently the numbers weren’t making a huge effect on him. Either he was good at bargaining or else had so much business that 40-50% off didn’t affect him enough. Could be too that this Edmund thought it was too good of a deal to be true. Charles had reckoned on the latter. Thus the samples. Charles had prepared for this for nearly a year and spent most of his savings on making this transaction work.
Ah, the samples got his attention. Charles thought and smiled inwardly. This part he was quite confident in. Charles was his own QC and was well pleased with the sample he had brought considering he had sampled some of each before bottling it.
Pulling out the bourbon first, he waved his wand and conjured up two old fashioned glasses. Charles poured a double in each. Handing one to Edmund, he started again on the pitch.
“As you can see, the bourbon is clear amber and well defined. There are no debris or color blemishes. The nose brings the smell of dried fruit and oak. It is around the standard 80 proof, and the taste is smooth with a good warm finish. The smoothness of it would remind a knowledgeable palate of Maker’s Mark, and thus it would ideal for a bourbon novice as well as for mixing, especially for a Manhattan or an Old-Fashioned. Because it has a nuance of rye taste, you could also offer it in a Sidecar diluting the cognac and get away with it. You could easily use this as a house bourbon and significantly cut down your overhead for several of your cocktails.”
Then raising his glass in salute of Edmund, Charles began to sip his bourbon watching him to see how Edmund would react.

[Nikki Montague]

It was a busy night at the Den; Nikki's ideal, not to mention typical, friday evening. She'd only been working at this magical hotspot for a few weeks, but it was always a blissful time. She loved the atmosphere-pulsating music, girating bodies, dim mood lighting, free-flowing drinks; what wasn't to love? Tonight was just like any other.

This evening she was sporting a bright orange shoulder lenght wig with thick bangs that just barely brushed her two inch fake glittered eyelashes. Her shirt was blue mesh atop a white bikini that glowed under the light of the club. Her pants were low rise denim and full of holes. She had fishnets underneath that peeked out through the holes and freyed areas. Her shoes were typical-black leather stilletto's with a five inch platform. They were the same ones she'd worn to school that day. They were also the only way the pants reached the proper length. Usually they dragged on the ground obscuring her feet entirely.

The night was typical up until that time. Same old pouring drinks, running cards, wiping down the bar...then an attractive man came to the bar and slid her a galleon in order to see the boss. She was quick to oblidge. Money was money, but as the time passed, and the club seemed to slow down a bit, Nikki wondered who the guy was and what it was he wanted with Edmund. She hoped Edmund was okay. Duh, she knew he was fine, but he was also pretty drunk when she'd called for him and she was curious what the pair were discussing in the office. She was glad when the man in front of her asked to close his tab. The girl ran his card and printed a recipt for him to sign. Duh, Nikki had an idea. She opened the charge box and unrolled the reciept paper until just enough for perhaps two transactions was left. It was rather low to begin with so it didn't take long.

"Fuckin' rad," she muttered slowly and printed another recipt. She watched him write in a five buck tip and smiled as he disappeared into the crowd. Her attention turned to the other bartender who was ringing up some drinks as well. She held up the second recipt and pointed to the red line that indicated the paper role was almost out. He nodded after a moment and waved a dismissive hand before beginning to help customers again. She hurried out from behind the bar, squeezing her petite body through the crowd as she did. Nikki reached the door to the office and hesitated. Placing a small ear to the door she listened hard. However, she couldn't hear anything with the noise of the club behind her. Nikki rolled her eyes and knocked loudly before barging into the room without waiting for an answer.

[Charles O'Sulivan]

Edmund tried his liquor, but, before he could say anything, a loud knock at the door startled Charles. Charles recovered quickly and surreptitiously checked his robes as he nearly jostled some of the bourbon on his robes in his surprise. Before Edmund could give an answer though, the door opened and the barkeep walked in. Now that he saw her more up close she looked like one of the seniors at his school. She was young enough to be one for sure. Charles smiled with a bit of pride as apparently his spell had fooled one of schoolmates. Not that Charles had any doubts about it in the first place, but confirmation in one’s skill was gratifying to say the least.

Then a great idea crossed Charles’ mind. First of all, getting on the good side of an employee could bear some fruit in future endeavors. Secondly, barkeeps generally knew their liquor. She was young which worried Charles as it could be possible that she was hired for her looks which weren’t bad at all. However, as the bar looked pretty upscale, Charles figured that it would require its keeps to be knowledgeable at least if not connoisseurs themselves. He turned to the girl and smiled as he spoke.

“Good evening, miss. I was discussing something with your boss, and I was wondering if perhaps you could provide us with an outside perspective. You’re a barkeep and thus know your liquor, yes? So have a taste of this and tell me what you think this is and what would you use it for.”

As he spoke, he conjured up a third old-fashioned and poured a double for her as well. Passing the glass to her, he waited to see her reaction.

[!!!]

Edmund listened to Charles' spiel about the alcohol, using terms that he couldn't quite appreciate. Instead he focused his gaze on the liquid in his glass, looking at it. It looked clean enough. Edmund had experience with people trying to poison him, but this young man seemed honest enough. So Edmund decided to sample it. He figured that to look experienced and like he knew what he was doing, he should sip it or smell it. Then again, Edmund was never one to really care what others thought. So he just tipped the glass and drank the liquid in one big burst.

A bartender walked in and Edmund barely acknowledged her presence. It was the new girl, the one that looked criminally young. Edmund just paid attention to the warmth growing in his stomach. From his drink, he determined two things. First of all, the liquid was alcoholic. Secondly, it didn't taste like monkey ass. He figured that was good enough. He looked up and heard the young man offering the bartender a drink. He shrugged his approval.

"Go for it, just don't get used to drinking on the clock. That might lead to bad things, like you getting fired." Edmund helped himself to another "sample" and tried to glean something else about the drink.

Didn't work.

[Nikki Montague]

Nikki noticed as she walked into the room that she had startled the man who had buisness with Edmund. She couldn't surpress her smirk and looked to Edmund while she walked behind the desk. She reached over him, maintaining eye contact as she did and reached into the farside top drawer. She pulled out a roll of reciept paper and raised her eyebrows in a playful 'just kidding...unless you're serious' sort of manner. She slammed in shut and looked at the new comber.


He was teh boy from before and quite an attractive older gentilmen. Nikki blinked widely at him and smiled. As if on cue, the man seemed to know it was his turn to explain himself.


“Good evening, miss. I was discussing something with your boss, Obviously. Nikki looked to Edmund, then back to the man and nodded.


"So have a taste of this and tell me what you think this is and what would you use it for.” Her insided jumped. Fuckin' rad! Really? Nikki looked to Edmund for approval as the man conjoured up a drink for her. Could this really be happening? Nikki was stoked to hear Edmund agree to the proposition--even if there was a warning of not making it a common occurance. She nodded readily and smiled at the gentilmen.


"I'm at your service," she said slowly and raised the glass. Nikki smelled the drink. "Old fruit," escaped her lips as she inhaled deeply. Exhaling through her mouth she blinked slowly. "Something else too." Nikki wetted her lips with the drink, careful not to get any on her palate. It was cold, which she found odd comparing it with the smell.


Nikki took a feeble sip, sloshing it about her mouth with her tongue she snorted as she swallowed it.


"Warm, but not overpowering." SHe raised an eyebrow and rolled her eyes upward to the ceiling as if trying to pull something from her memory. "Perfect for a Bourbonilla or Gentilmen's Cocktail." She couldn't help but grin ear to ear as her eyes looked from Edmund to the new comer.


"Wha'd you say your name was?"

[Charles O'Sulivan]

She took the drink, obviously happy with the prospect of free liquor. After taking the galss, she took time to test the bouquet and nose before she sampled the liquor. Charles was relieved to see her treat the bourbon as one should when trying a new spirit.

"Old fruit, something else"
She correctly identified the main element of the bouquet. The smell of the smoky oak barrels in which it matured she missed, but, as it was mild, that was easily done.

She took a quick sip and played with it letting the flavor develop on her palate.
"Warm, but not overpowering. Perfect for a Bourbonilla or Gentlemen's Cocktail."
Charles nodded his head impressed. She did know her liquor. Others might have called it a rye whiskey, but she didn't. Risk paid off.


"Wha'd you say your name was?"
Her next question almost took him off guard, but it was a question he had been prepared for. During a trip last year to Boston, he went to Gallow’s End. It was basically Boston’s version of Knockturn Alley. While there, Charles had picked up a fake ID and, what drained his coffers the most, a legitimate federal liquor license. He had been referred to the slightly disgruntled federal employee by the ID forger. One was an illegally authorized license and the other was a high quality forgery. Thus they were damn expensive. Savings he had built up over a few years and all his winnings from the $1500 prize for biggest buck competition during the last hunting season nigh evaporated. Charles had a lot riding on this deal.


“Holcroft. John Holcroft at your service."
That was the name that he had decided on with much research. In Charles's opinion, it was wonderfully ironic. Many historians believe John Holcroft to be the true identity of Tom the Tinker, the enigmatic leader of the Whiskey Rebellion. But he figured it was safe as only a severe history buff would recognize the name.


"And what would be your name, miss?”
He still made a nod toward Edmund, letting Edmund know that he still had Charles’s attention. But, as he looked content finishing off the few remaining samples of the bourbon, Charles figured that some small talk with the very attractive young barkeep while Edmund finished his drinks would not be amiss. When she responded, Charles smiled and said, “An absolute pleasure to meet you. So how long have you been a bartender and are you attending college?”

[Nikki Montague]

(OOC: sorry. I got tired of waiting. I'm sure ya'll understand)

"Nikki," The girl drawled after a long moment.

Her glance turned to Edmund as he gulped down a bit more of his whiskey. A clever smirk crept upon her wide mouth. He always had been a lush and such an entertaining one at that. Nikki admired him in a twisted sort of way. She appreciated his skill and power even if it was recklass at times..most of the time, now that she thought about it. He sort of just did whatever thought was in his mind without regard for conciquences or after-effects. She appreciated that and disliked it all the same. The disinterested expression on his face made her wonder how exactly he came to own such a marvelous establishment. He wasn't really buisness saavy or seasoned in the art of hospitality. She wondered, but her thought was put on hold when the Holcroft character asked her about outside work personae.


"Uhm," her eyes met his and searched for what she thought he would like to hear. "I just started pouring like a month or two ago, but like--" she paused. Nikki didn't want Edmund knowing more than he needed to. She wasn't sure why, but she felt that it was important to keep Edmund's knowledge as limited as possible.


"But I've served for a while," she said the phrase very slowly--painfully slowly even. She wasn't intending to make it obvious that she was hiding something, but she was acting like a child who just heard the coolest secret ever! The man asked about her schooling and her eyes narrowed. What was he getting at. She sipped her drink casually and took a seat next to edmund atop the desk. She turned her thin body so she was facing them both and blinked at the guy.


"Yeah, I'm in school," she mused, her voice getting a pitch deeper as she continued. "The school of life." Nikki smiled at Edmund and looked back at Mr. Holcroft. She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow.


"What about you? Do you go to school?" Her words had more of a bite than she had intended, but she didn't care for his nosiness. Obviously he wasn't in school. He looked ancient--or at least from her youthful standards he was WELL past his prime--maybe even in his thirties! Truthfully, had the situation been Edmund-free, things would have been different. She would have welcomed the inquiry even. However, he was there so they needed to stick to the buisness at hand.