Char Lohengrin couldn't keep from smirking, as he folded the letter up and pushed it across his desk towards the lead researcher, Ashorea Mo'Thana. "This cat has serious style; But I think somewhere along the lines he forgot there's still a wide divide... Maybe he thinks he can bridge it." The Miqo'te opened his humidor and thumbed through a few cigars before settling on one, rolling it between his fingers as he pulled it out.
"Mister President; Something like this might upset the very tempestuous balance. If I may be so bold, it might impact our sales." The Elezen replied, handing the letter off to the nearby Wendell Higgs whom took it in hand and looked expectantly to Char, whom concerned himself more with finding a lighter, than this controversial piece of parchment. "The hell are you? My sales representative? You're paid to oversee the egg-heads, not my bottom line. This 'Couerl of Garlemald' isn't anything special. Just another idealist with too much time on his hands, and access to too much paper... If anything he should apologize for stealing those two and a half minutes of my life in reading that."
After shifting several drawers about, buried under a few loose documents - he found the golden cylinder and depressed the button as he drew it to the herbal sleeve clenched tightly in his lips. A flame emerged and he took a few measured puffs before exhaling a cancerous smog into the room. "The general discontent isn't going anywhere; Eorzeans want Magitek - we'll sell them Magitek. The soldiers in Garlemald? They want Magitek. We're going to give them Magitek. We aren't playing politics, we're playing a market. Whoever this individual is, let them have their moment... But do so, outside of my profit margins. One man won't change the atmospherics... Now, unless you have something important, burn that damn thing and get back to work."
The woman stood her full height and shook her head, before departing - Wendell not far behind her. Char stood up and moved to gaze pensively outside the window, looking up towards the night sky as he continued to puff at his cigar. '...I sincerely wish you the best of luck... Idealists are often short-lived, with good reason...' He thought silently to himself.
"Mister President; Something like this might upset the very tempestuous balance. If I may be so bold, it might impact our sales." The Elezen replied, handing the letter off to the nearby Wendell Higgs whom took it in hand and looked expectantly to Char, whom concerned himself more with finding a lighter, than this controversial piece of parchment. "The hell are you? My sales representative? You're paid to oversee the egg-heads, not my bottom line. This 'Couerl of Garlemald' isn't anything special. Just another idealist with too much time on his hands, and access to too much paper... If anything he should apologize for stealing those two and a half minutes of my life in reading that."
After shifting several drawers about, buried under a few loose documents - he found the golden cylinder and depressed the button as he drew it to the herbal sleeve clenched tightly in his lips. A flame emerged and he took a few measured puffs before exhaling a cancerous smog into the room. "The general discontent isn't going anywhere; Eorzeans want Magitek - we'll sell them Magitek. The soldiers in Garlemald? They want Magitek. We're going to give them Magitek. We aren't playing politics, we're playing a market. Whoever this individual is, let them have their moment... But do so, outside of my profit margins. One man won't change the atmospherics... Now, unless you have something important, burn that damn thing and get back to work."
The woman stood her full height and shook her head, before departing - Wendell not far behind her. Char stood up and moved to gaze pensively outside the window, looking up towards the night sky as he continued to puff at his cigar. '...I sincerely wish you the best of luck... Idealists are often short-lived, with good reason...' He thought silently to himself.
