Chloë du Gard picks pockets (slightofhands) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-05-25 19:20:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, chloë du gard, cian wilde |
log: contracts & commissions;
Who: Cian Wilde & Chloë du Gard
Where: The Greasy Spoon
When: Taurus 30th, 2pm [backdated]
What: Cian needs a machinist and Chloë is pretty good at that.
Rating: PG-13, because Cian.
Status: Complete!
Chloë sat down in her chair as the second hand hit the twelve on a clock nearby, making her right on time. She'd been there already, but was debating on if this was a good idea. Of course it was a good idea. Cian had money, lots of it, chances were he'd meet her demand of preferred payment. She didn't do a lot of work as a machinist anymore, at least not as regularly as others had, but Chloë worked for someone like Ofelia who seemed satisfied with her output enough to keep coming back. Chloë's job would always first and foremost be a thief, but there was never anything wrong with having a little side income. Tinkering was a fun hobby that often led to useful gadgets. "Did you want to see the product first or the contract?" she asked Cian, not wasting any time. She wasn't really one for formalities when business was to be done. Money made the world go around and put chocolates in her pocket. She sort of hoped he didn't remember her from their brief encounter by his bike, where she was admiring its handiwork on her way to damage other bikes in that race. Most people, unless they knew her well (like Audrey, Rhys, Ari, and Miles) could identify her easily, others might vaguely recall her. Her brown hair fell loose over her shoulders, her clothing made of generic colors and style, and really, she looked like any person off the street. She had a bag with her that had a number of her creations. They varied in purpose and function, but all were up to Chloë's standard of work. She didn't like selling things she wasn't proud of or wouldn't use herself. Sometimes she kept inventions for herself, like the modifications on her pistol. Maybe it was unfortunate for her, but Cian rarely forgot a face he thought could belong to someone noteworthy. had he just met her in a bar, perhaps, he might not have given her another thought. Considering the circumstances of their last meeting, though, her face had popped into his mind the moment he’d laid eyes on her. Quite a few bikes had gone down in that race, he recalled. He could appreciate work well-done, when he wasn’t the victim (and his losses had been due to the redhead, anyway, not this woman’s intervention). So, when she opened her mouth to speak and went straight to business, he wasn’t displeased. “Product first,” he told her with an amused smirk. “Don’t want to waste my time with the contract unless I want to buy what you’re selling. We’ll talk terms after -- including, obviously, a guarantee that you won’t do extra tinkering with any of my shit if someone else pays you to blow me up.” A clear reference to the race. Chloë gave him an incredulous look. Perhaps others he dealt with in the past felt it necessary to play the line when money came their way, and maybe Chloë could be tempted by the idea, but she believed in loyalty to her customers. She reached down and pulled a few items out of the bag. There were a couple of bombs, but they didn't really look like a typical bomb. They were smaller, and yes, the explosion would be smaller, but it was in the bomb that counted. "It's not the boom," Chloë said as she started with them, "It's what they let out. I have a contact, takes potions, nasty ones, and the explosion breaks the little glass they're inside. Splatters, radius rather impression all things considering. I'd recommend...not being around when one of these goes off." It didn't lead to death, but it certainly made things uncomfortable for quite some time. She brought out a few other things. A gun with various modifications to it that made it both effective for stealth and also for accuracy. A small grappling hook that could carry up to 300 pounds, pushing 350 if they were careful and not going a great distance to put too much pressure on the pulley, and it self-wound as well. There were about ten items in front of him, small, compact, but effective. "Well," Chloë said sitting back in her chair, "Should I pack up and go?" He was already picking up the items with a careful, practiced hand (he'd handled more than his share of explosives in life -- and guns, for that matter), as if testing them for quality. Obviously he couldn't see exactly what the bombs might do, or test the full strength of the grappling hook, but to his eyes the items looked well made. And there was something familiar about the style -- who was it he'd seen with stuff that reminded him of this? It would come to him. "Hasty, aren't you?" he asked, amused. "You got a lot of clients willing to sign on the dotted line before inspecting the merchandise? Just exercising due caution, from where I'm standing." He set the gun down (now there was a promising item) and said, "Interesting. I might buy a few in small quantities, try them out and see how well they perform before I commit. You said you did commissions?" he continued, looking over the table at her. "Off the top of your head -- surveillance. Preferably hard to spot, decent range, recording capabilities. If I asked for something like that, what could you do?" "I do," Chloë said, "Surveillance shouldn't be a problem at all. Best fit would require me to see where you want it to go. I'm sure I could even work it out that even someone who knows the room top to bottom wouldn't be able to tell the difference." She put the items back into the back one by one as she spoke. They were the show models and unless there was one specifically he asked for of the lot she currently had, they would go back home with her. She went on, "If I'm not allowed in, I can do my best with a very descriptive explanation of what I'm working with or any pictures you might have. Even a memstone with a recording might do." Chloë finished putting things away. "Would you like some time to think on things or should I bring out my contract?" she questioned. “Some places you’d be allowed in. Some…” he grinned wolfishly, “maybe not so much. But we could work it out.” He was interested in getting his hands on the gun, too. Could be handy, from what he’d been able to work out from examining it. He considered a moment before saying, “Let’s see this contract of yours.” He didn’t figure he needed to tell her he might want alterations; if she dealt with clients of any significant caliber, she’d be used to negotiations. Chloë drew folded papers from a pocket of the skirt of her dress and placed them on the table. She knew some changes would be made in parts, but some parts were non-negotiable. "Pretty standard," she said unfolding it before him and then sliding it over for him to look through, "My inventions are mine, and you can't take them to someone else to duplicate. Just like I don't sell product to be used against you, you cannot use my product on any of my other clients." She sat back and rested her hands on her lap. "I quote a price, an advance of 40% is provided then the last 60% is given upon receipt of product," she continued, "I require at least a month warning for any commissions if you want the work guaranteed. Each item has a two year warranty for free repair, if you buy in bulk, I provide a discount depending on quantity purchased. It's all there." Those were the basics and he could read all the fine print and so on there. She then added as an afterthought, "I'll take gil, but I prefer my payment in precious stones." They were prettier and were easier to hide and use. She could always haggle for more money from jewelers as well, where gil sort of just had a standard value. He sat and read the document over, taking his time. Only idiots skipped the fine print. It was basically what she’d said, which spoke well of her trustworthiness. One of her conditions, though, had him quirking a brow. “You going to provide me a comprehensive client list?” he asked. “Can’t promise I won’t tangle with someone else you’ve done business with; plenty of people don’t like me, and vice versa. How the hell do I know who I’m supposed to avoid? And assuming you provide a full list, and I agree, I’m assuming no new clients get grandfathered in?” It seemed a convoluted way to do business; most machinists he’d met were more likely to remain neutral third parties and let their customers duke it out if that was something they wanted. "I'm not saying you can't use them against other clients, but asking me to set up surveillance on another of my clients is a no," Chloë clarified, "I'm not going to police you but I find I live longer if I don't go setting up memstones or setting up any traps. I can let you know if there's a certain interest in a party you may wish to use an memstone against, but otherwise you can likely tell my clients by their product." She removed her revolver from the hit hidden and showed him the bottom of the expanded magazine. On it was a moon shape wrapped around a "G." Chloë put the gun back into its holster, "though I am curious as to who recommended me to you." She wasn't going to offer that person a discount or anything, but she wasn't terribly fond of her name being passed around. Chloë preferred to keep her client list very small. “Works for me,” he said, more easily than she probably expected. But he had his shipments of bugs from Ordalia, and tiny to plant them -- keeping this woman on his more law-abiding targets would work well enough. Never put all your eggs in one basket and all. “Let’s say it came from a friend of a friend,” he said easily. “Guild all know of each other, or the ones with ambition do. And maybe I wondered who the girl was ogling my bike like she’d like to take it apart for salvage.” He had more than one way to dig up info. “One question, before I agree to terms: do you ever work with or for the Dragons?” His sources said no, but he had to ask. “If the answer is no, and you are willing to sign on it -- all other points null and void if I find out later you lied -- then I’ll accept your contract.” A friend of a friend. It was true that the guild all knew each other, but Chloë didn't really raise a lot of eyebrows or flags when it came to her work as a machinist. She didn't tinker at it the ways that others did but she did enough to at least keep those she made items for coming back. She licked at her lips, "Well, it was a pretty bike with some interesting modifications." And that was the long and short of it. "I prefer not to align myself with any specific group or organization," Chloë informed, "I don't like alliances in that respect. My client pool is small but they don't care to be too closely tied with any group as well." It made it easier for her to keep out of politics as well, which was what she preferred. She took a pen from her bag and said, "And I will sign on that. So long as I get to read what I am signing before I do." “Then,” he said, “we should have no problem.” He took up the pen, quickly scribbled the addendum. If she was going to do any work for him, anyway, she was better off keeping clear of the Dragons and vice versa. Stronger people had been crushed between -- of those he knew, only tiny managed, but he had a notion it had to do with fortune favoring fools. He finished the addendum, added his scrawl of a signature, and passed the paper back. “All yours,” he said. “I’ll have a list to you within the week of the things I want to try out in small quantities first, plus a couple custom items I’d like worked on.” He waited for her to read over what he’d written before offering his hand for a shake. Yeah, Guild knew each other. She’d know he kept his word. “Here’s to a successful and smooth relationship. Pleasure doing business with you.” Chloë took the contract and viewed it over. Well, that was another to her list of clients and there was no negotiation over pricing, well, not yet. The addendum was made, she initialed next to it, confirming she would agree to it, and then folded the paper up, slipping it away to where it'd been kept before. She reached out, taking his hand into a firm handshake. "You as well," she said. She would stick to her end of the bargain, and given that he signed it, she had hope that Cian wasn't going to try to pull a fast one on her. Even if they were in the same guild, not all guild members were so loyal to each other as they should be. She plucked up her bag after taking her hand back from his and made her exit. She needed to drop these things off at home still, and take that contract and put it somewhere she kept all the others. Somewhere only she knew where to look. And despite how well some people knew her, not even they would know where that was. |