cormac hier ; the chemist (chemist) wrote in emillion, |
Cormac had been enjoying the game, losing quite a bit, but there was no fun in gambling if there was no risk. Winning was fun, but not if you won all the time. Parting with what he had, was never much of a problem as his business was quite lucrative on most fronts. He would have said all, but his potions making had taken quite a hit, even with his restocking. Due to the plague, things were being bought at a faster frequency than which he could make them. He was just one man after all. It wasn’t only that, but the lack of supplies wasn’t helping either. One of his main resources had left the city, so he really only had a few options. He’d been distracted by the blond sitting across the table from him. He knew that she had a ship. He knew she was a corsair. It was time to negotiate a new deal. He hated new things, but he felt he knew her well enough to make them both quite a lot of money if she was amiable to the proposal. When they took a break between hands for smokes, pissing, and grabbing more drinks, he approached her. “Hello.” He placed a cigarette between his lips and the end just started to burn. While he wasn’t particularly strong, he was in good control of the small mana that he did have. No point in wasting money on lighters and matches. “Would you be interested in making a deal?” No pleasantries about the weather or the state of the city here. These games were often just a way to pass the time, nothing that particularly interested her except when she lost. Losing money she’d rightfully earned on jobs was incredibly annoying, but it didn’t happen too often, her luck at about a seven in terms of her success rate. Why she was here at all before the night of Miles’ stupid engagement party, she didn’t know, but here she was. The smoke drew Damia’s attention before Cormac’s face did, and she watched him approach, rapping her fingers along the table. Her smirk came easily. “A deal?” Cormac took a moment to inhale some smoke, before letting it seep out through his nostrils. It kept him from having to repeat himself, as he knew she was just parroting interest. “I’m low on foreign supplies,” he explained plainly. “You have a ship. I have a list, some locations, and some money.” While it wouldn’t be hard to find said ingredients in the bazaar district, but not nearly as much. “The person who used to supply me with this service has left town for an indeterminate amount of time. I’m in need of a replacement.” Technically speaking, Damia didn’t have the ship yet. That was a work in progress, but she wasn’t going to correct him on it, she decided. “I do have a ship,” she agreed, keeping the details vague for the time being. “Will this will a permanent replacement?” That was a binding question and the chemist did not make promises he didn’t keep. “If all goes well, I can’t see why it wouldn’t develop into one.” Corsairs had wings and sometimes liked to fly off like the last one he’d employed for whatever reason. While he was not a fan of change, he was also a realist. He couldn’t keep people tied down to himself. They were, unfortunately and fortunately, free thinking people. She reached for her drink, pausing her sipping and weighing the offer. Having business wasn’t a terrible thing before she ever got the ship. And if she didn’t keep a promise, that was too bad, wasn’t it? The drink was set back on the table. “Then we probably have a deal, don’t we?” Cormac held out a hand for Damia to take. It was a traditional, customary action. “I would say that we do." |