OttoVann

Navigating the crush of the Avenue Otto keeps his eyes forward behind his red-lensed sunglasses. Its past mid-day and the sun is in its typically oppressive harshness - dust stirred permanently and dry. He notices the Elezen woman that has given him trouble with one of his friends and ignores her at first, lazily reading her sign and ignoring its contents at first. However after he repeats the message in his head, he gets an amused though as he turns back through the crowd and starts to work his way up against the flow to stand in front of her table. He places the small leathered box he had in his hand inside his inner coat pocket as he looks down to her squinting behind his glasses as he leans down to make a show up pulling up the sign from its hanging to read it carefully. Otto regards the woman, he's forgotten her name but puts an air of familiarity as he speaks with her "Forget the rates. How can I help?"

Massive influx of men changing to feminine names and going catgurl. Oh Balmung.

I dont think I implied this, more along the lines of OOC the person may wonder or be surprised so miuch would come their way IC. Which may or may not be the problem. I'm not looking to 'hold people accountable' or be an ass. I suppose the only real course of action would be to establish with them something along the lines of "You know if you seriously hurt me IC I would expect you to receive shit back your way." I guess the problem is how much do they receive? Its complicated. I've dealt with this on a small scale already and those that work with me, even they said "It needs to be IC for IC reasons and everyone agrees." Actually all of this brings up another question I'm wondering then. IC stalking akin to being spied on or having someone spied on. How does that work, should you only and always get consent before you have people casually and very much not-obviously follow to get information? Myself I've been stalked/spied on...4 times now at various RP events I think. Half the time I was given a headsup, half the time I just noticed the same person constantly targetting me after an hour or two and moved around in a way to confirm that was their goal. None of it bothered me, but it made me wonder what sort of shit I was in. However, what is the 'best' way to handle or go about doing that myself to other people since everyone keeps bringing up GMs now.

Title alludes to it. Allow me to explain further. I RP Otto as an 'aloof' playboy. Rich beyond compare IC (and ooc), extremely talented Artisan who knows how to create works of art with his hands. Hes physically large and powerful and dominating but he lacks combat prowess. AKA a punch would hurt and his grip is impressive - but he lacks martial training. He is also very well entrenched and connected to Syndicate affiliations with a subtle and non-implied emphasis on the ability to lean on those connections mafia-style to get the task done, whatever that may be. So this leads me to how to handle dilemmas ICly. For example tomorrow, if random cool-dude shithead goes out of their way to pick a fight with Otto and even hurt/hit him....what then? OOC/IC I could summon easily over a dozen people to fuck and fuck and fuck with this person IC to the point where it could be considered harassment almost. However, is that so wrong considering that would be the consequence of their IC actions? Otto doesn't fight, at all. If tomorrow cool-dude X kicked his ass, he would dare cool-dude X to kill him because he if he doesn't the reaction will be severe and very real (ic and ooc). My dilemma is...what do I do? Do I sick the hounds on them if organic RP leads to them laying hands on me or do I spare them being 'bullied' and fucked with for touching me by my connections? Its very easy to say "Well its up to them and how they consent." True but its also easy for me to retort with that if someone is pushing a fight onto Otto and they are /very/ clearly beside themselves with their aggression. What sort of IC consequences should they face, if any?

One of the things I like about working in my primary workshop in Ul'Dah is that it is very much an unassuming building. Not a lot of people even know about it. Its right off Emerald Avenue near The Rudius. The outside displays nothing impressive and it even lacks my name. I prefer it this way, let my storefronts deal with the throngs of customers and the public. I enjoy a quiet office of sorts to work in. I keep this sanctuary almost dusky and grey. It looks like I pulled the office from the past almost, sitting relatively unused and sterile in the front. It has a pair of reception desks that sit waiting for an actual purpose. In the back where I work is a disaster zone of tools and hardware and my work desks. I always keep my primary office staffed with at least one, usually two of my personal assistants. Glorified courtesans, most of them are not professional secretaries, and most of them do not wield weapons or guard me. They simply sit around in Tafetta 'uniforms', reading at their desks, or preening themselves as they talk about their escapades, or meander around the office keeping it and themselves presentable for my uses. Some take interest in my work, hovering over my shoulder as they watch and learn as I create my pieces of art, asking about the process and I enjoy it. I find it entertaining talking about my work and my methods, its very fulfilling to one's ego. Ridley is one of the few actual professionals that works for me, handling receipts, my books, my professional and private schedules, the other 'workers' that come and go, and also a general task-master. Cortana is my number two actual worker, she is quick to learn everything Ridley handles and the two of them have even started to work together and grow close in their own way. Ridley will be getting married one day, I can't keep her forever as much as I would love to and Cortana is going to be vital for future needs as time goes on. I should probably stop sleeping with her someday so that Ridley can really groom her into a true right-hand of mine. Easier said than done considering she always wants to be tended to. I walk from my shop, hanging myself in the doorway that connects the front reception area to my workspace and look to see who all is here. Tira and Liona, the Fawn sisters. Beautiful non-identical twin sisters who both take to their line of work with enthusiasm, most days. Typical for them when they aren't in a bed earning their true keep, they are sleeping at their desks. If they weren't being paid so well they would probably have left to find other clients by now. I make it worth their time to sit around waiting on my commands though. They don't really stir as I open the door and hover in the doorway, their heads resting on crossed arms as they sleep. Knocking on the frame of the door I get their attention. They slowly groan to life as they turn to me wondering which one I want or need, rubbing the sleep from their eyes. “Which one of you fine young ladies is ready to go out and get some food for us all to eat?” This get their ears to perk as they start to stretch out their weariness. I don't just pay them in gil, I take care of my own and share meals with those who work for me on days like this. “What would please the Mister Vann this evening?” Tira replies, her tone sultry as she rises from her desk to suss her Tafetta top and to try and grab my attention. I indulge her, I would be a fool not to notice them. “I'm feeling hungry, maybe some coeurl steaks, with eggs. Head up to the Airship Landing and have them cook up enough of that for us all to eat.” I pull my gaze from her chest as I toss over a small bag I have in my pocket. Ten thousand gil, enough to feed a platoon for a week. She can keep the change, small things like that buy surprisingly large amounts of loyalty. This gets Liona to pipe up, almost leaping from her chair as she springs to me, taking a hand of mine into hers. With a forced and humored innocence to her tone she asks “What about appetizers Mister Vann? I could help with that while Tira gets our food you know.” It's a tempting offer, but my work today will require a focused mind and I can't be distracted with bending her across a desk right now. I shake my head no to her as I pull her hand from mine. “None of that right now. Just food. Why don't you go help your sister carry it all back instead? Maybe tonight when I am done with this important work I can have desserts after?” I feel bad turning them down, so the least I can do is offer some private time later in the evening. I really just want my steak and to finish this rose so I can get it into the mail for that special someone. They're used to rejection in a way, I am particular when I want more than tasks out of them and I am one to make it very aware. They turn on those heels, walking out in those half-naked uniforms as they head to get us our dinner. I stand alone in the adjoining doorway to the reception area and workshop. The urge hits me, as if I had forgotten something and I turn to walk back to my desk, pulling out my pestle and mortar again. (to be continued...)

I remember seeing the video in the other thread about ERP.

*slicks back hair* Oh baby

Ridley returns with my delivery dutifully and without much fuss. She brought in a good haul, most of them were idealistic tea-roses. Still, I only took two and gave the rest to her. I picked a second in case I somehow ruin the first. I will be coating both of them with the first layers of clear lacquer to initially seal them. From there I will only take one to completion. For a task like this though I need to get comfortable before I can start working. Work such as this does not require much in the way of 'working' clothes, I can wear just about whatever I want. I have a particular apron I enjoy wearing when I make most things by hand. My late-wife bought it for me a couple of years ago and its one of the only things I kept from my previous life. Its a rather simple leather apron, cured and treated well enough to withstand hot coals on it for a short time if need be. It is stained thoroughly, I usually wipe my tools off on it as I am polishing or grinding a metal or stone or something to that effect. I remove my suit-jacket, wearing only a simple undershirt as I take to draping the apron over my neck and tie it secure behind my back. My first task though is to clean the roses of any dust they may have accumulated from their trip. I prefer to use effervescent water that has been chilled with ice shards to a glacially cold temperature. The gas trapped in the water helps disturb any dirt and dust that may be wanting to stubbornly stay on the stem or trapped in the delicate felt like surface of the petals. I get the brushed steel vat I have my effervescent water in and remove the ice shard from it that was keeping it chilled. I wrap a tiny wire loosely around the hip of the rose to let me fish it out from the water without touching it and dip it into the water. After letting it rest in the water for a moment I take to knocking the sides of the steel vat with light rapid strikes to agitate the gases, releasing them and letting them bubble up to clean the surface of my rose. After a few minutes of this I gently pull the rose from the water, setting it on a small rose wood rack to let it airdry as I repeat this process with the second rose. After I finish cleaning the second rose, the first is dry and ready to be sealed with an initial coat. For small delicate work like this I need to pour some lacquer onto a sheet of wax paper first to work into an evenly thin consistency. I use a small joint knife to run across the lacquer, repeating this motion dozens of times as I spread it in a line across the paper to loosen it and make it ready for application. I had Ridley bring me fresh paint brushes, I prefer to stick to flat brushes for my current task. Narrow and only a few hairs wide, it will take a minimum of two bells to fully coat both roses with the initial clear coat layer to seal the flower and preserve it. I take off my currently spectacles and use my jeweler's loupe to thoroughly assess the rose, ensuring cleanliness. After I inspect it and confirm it ready for preservation I take off my current spectacles and put on the glasses with various magnifiers on them I can slide into place and start to finally get into the thick of the actual work. Extremely small, measured, and tiny brush strokes are how I apply the lacquer. I am constantly cycling through the various lenses on the magnifiers, paying close attention to keeping the brush strokes as smooth and even as possible. I am aiming to having the coat be as smooth as glass, with no visible striations. The work is performed at a snail's pace, deliberate as I work my way up the stem, covering the leaves and hip and finally the rose petals. I made sure to leave the tip of the stem uncovered, where the rose was freed from its host bush. I insert a wire made from silver into the stem to give myself a handle to hold the rose. This ensures I don't touch the surface of the coating as it starts its curing process, it reacting to the air to change chemically. I welcome the chance to stand up from my desk. I've been hunched over it working on this and my eyes could use a rest from being behind constantly changing magnifying lenses. I take the rose by its wire and carry it over to the furrole, the cabinet that lets me add artificial humidity I have on loan from the Carpenter's Guild. Lacquer needs damp air to fully complete its curing process, around 80% relative humidity to finalize the process. I suspend the rose from a rack inside the cabinet by its wire. At the base of the cabinet I have already set up my array of fire shards behind rose-quartz panels to shine a faint light upward into the box to help keep the temperature just warm enough. Now that I have all of that prep-work out of the way for the first rose, I take the time to stretch and loosen up before working on the second rose. I'm feeling hungry though, I should have one of the girls fetch me a bite to eat. (to be continued...)

The feelings of euphoria roll over me soon enough. Your heart rate increases, you start to see and hear better. You feel light as warm summer air, your mind churning through being alit like cotton doused in oil and set to a match. With your mind racing, rapidly shuffling through ideas and thoughts, you think you can take on the world as one of the smartest people it will ever know. You are wholly confidant, immune to social pressure and any worry or concern is bulldozed out of the way in favor of a cocksure attitude and aloof openness. I lean forward in my chair, dazed as I run my hands flat against my favorite work desk. The top of it covered in soft embroidered leather, the texture feeling incredible against my palms as I push them outwards across the surface to the edges of the desk. With my arms outstretched, I rap the fingers on both hands across the desk, looking to the side and away towards nothing in particular as I sit and let my new state of mine fully sink in. Minutes pass, as I sit there completely unattached from the world, silently and repetitively rapping finger on the desk as I lose time. I absorb none of my surroundings as I stare off into the void. Eventually though the fog starts to slip from the mind and I notice my left hand has been holding my artisan spectacles under the palm as I kept hitting my fingers against the desk. With a sharp inhale through my nose I raise both eyebrows, finding myself at my desk. Renewed with energy and a re-sharpened mind I decide to get to work finally. With my task at hand made clear again, I take out a pink silken handkerchief to clean the lenses of my spectacles. Putting them on I look across my desk, splayed with a menagerie of hand tools, paint brushes, various pumice and coal polishing stones, polishing sands made from gold and silver sand, jeweler's loupes, glasses with magnifying crystals I can flip into place and the precious lacquer I have ordered from experienced Botanists. They've cooked and refined it into a clear style and its ready to use once I open the airtight jar and ready to be applied with small paint brushes. My most precious ingredient though, is the gold leaf I pressed and made myself. I have plans to add flecks of gold into the thin layers of lacquer I cover the rose in as they dry. This will give it a three-dimensional look as the golden flecks seemingly float on top of each other on the leaves and petals of the flower. An extremely time consuming and delicate process even for me. This will add a definitively unique look that is gaudy but proper for work made by me. Now all I need is for Ridley to return with my roses so I can begin my work at once. (to be continued...)

Otto sighs, momentarily lapsing and showing any sign of interest. He isn't dressed in his typical rose-colored suit, and is in a more typical brown and blue pin striped suit. He reads a new flier that he picks up off the ground - noticing his name being portrayed as a sponsor. With a cocked eye-brow he regards the situation and shrugs as he lets the slip of paper fall out of his hand again and continues walking. True enough he gave the woman close to one-hundred thousand gil. She asked for a donation after handing him her old flier - its contents going on about "DOWN WITH SYNDICATE". He amused himself that night, making it clear he was Syndicate and then offering her gil to see how it unfolded. Sure enough she spat at him and he has taken to calling her 'Spitting One' now. Eventually though he goaded her into accepting his money. An irrelevant amount for an irrelevant cause. How could someone so noble as I turn down a woman in need, especially such a seductively attractive Elezen woman? Perish the thought of Otto Vann being so crass as to not help beautiful ones in need. Eventually someone from the Flames would be waiting to speak to him. Let them come, who cares? I have plausible deniability because frankly no one will take her word over mine. Even if Spahro wrote about witnessing my handing over money to her - what would it matter? Her and her readership of dozens are just as irrelevant. With that he puts all of it out of his mind, focusing instead on a more important task. He needed to head to his next date Ridley had set for him.

I'll be a mistress to all the thirsty ladies of Balmung. Put me in coach.

I can be your hero baby... I can only write when I want to it sounds like you are giving yourself a deadline. Just hang loose for a while, rp with that new goofy Rose Knight and take it day by day

(Going to try something different here. I don't know how often I will make posts. This will be a collection of microstories about Otto crafting and creating special gifts and items for certain purposes. This may be boring who knows – feedback welcome.) "Sir...are you sure?" Ridley asks me with legitimate doubt and bewilderment. She is one of the only souls I will tolerate second guessing me. "Yes my dear Ridley, of course I am certain. Six dozen roses. Go out to Gridania and fetch me a variety of red hybrid-tea roses. I want extremely large and full ones, petite ones, and everything in between. I want half to have thorns and half to have no thorns on the stems." Ridley gives me her customary salute, and heads out the door with her shopping orders. The image of Ridley carrying over seventy roses back to my shop humors me and I allow a smile to creep across my face as I focus on the task at hand and the work on my desk. I am working on a special project. Something I have only ever done twice. I am going lacquer and then gild a rose. I'm not doing this on commission or for a client, but as a gift to a friend. A woman I have found attractive at times, but all around someone I like as a friend and otherwise. This is something that is rare for me because the work required is immensely delicate and time consuming. The kind of lacquer I will be using must be applied in very thin layers and allowed plenty of time to cure with an array of fire crystals set behind glass filters to specially cure and harden it as it sits in a wooden cabinet I have on lone from the Carpenter's Guild. This cabinet is going to let me control the humidity, letting the air stay damp to assist in the curing process. There are few people who would ever deserve such a pure expression of artistic work from me. This will be a challenge for myself. There are very few that posses the talents needed to do this and it would do my ego well to observe reaction of the person I am gifting this to as they unbox it. First things first though, I need to prepare my lacquers. A lot of people would run to resin for a job like this and those people will never have the vast fortunes I own for good reasons. When resin dries and hardens it does so via evaporation, contracting on the surface and curing into a shell of sorts. That lends itself to problems for roses if you are trying to preserve one. The heat applied from the process of melting the gold leaf that I am going to trim every petal and leaf with could melt or crack the resin. Another problem is that the curing process for resin will actively draw a bit of moisture from the freshly cut rose, potentially stealing some of the beauty when the veins of the leaves or petals look distressed. Lastly, over time the resin will age and fracture as it becomes more brittle and work with my name behind it is made to last. Lacquers, the ones I will be using, lack all of these problems. When lacquer it cures it does so via something blacksmiths and alchemists know as oxidation, changing on the fundamental chemical levels as it reacts to the air around it. It doesn't go through an evaporation process and contract onto the surface. I've learned a lot from the Alchemist's Guild, they have been one to provide many insights into how to improve my work with precious metals. My rose wont be requiring a refinish, something you can't exactly do to a flower but something resin needs on furnishings. It will preserve the beauty and integrity of the rose and its petals, keeping the soft and felt-like texture supple and visible through the clear, high-gloss lacquer I will use. Before I can begin working though, I open a drawer in my desk and pull out my pestle and mortar again. I reach to my small pink silk bag I keep in a coat pocket, untie the top of it and dump a little of my 'sugar' into it and begin to grind it into a fine consistency. I've been consuming it orally for a while but lately I've been snorting it, taking it in through the nose. I waste no time in digging out a small amount onto my pinky, plugging one nostril as I inhale the drug with the other off my finger. I quickly dip the finger into my glass of water and follow the drug with snorting in a few drops of water to help fight the burn off. I lean back into my chair, laying my head across the top of it and look up to the ceiling and close my eyes. The kick will come any moment now and I can prepare my lacquer after that. (to be continued...)

Im not hosting this event for a few weeks. Every week the participation has dwindled and Ive also been too busy/tired on Sundays to do it lately thanks to a new and sudden change in school scheduling. Im thinking maybe doing this once every three weeks or something. I am unsure still.

Ive got some ideas to make some moogles into like...assistants. But I want to do things like get them high on drugs and stuff too for comic relief. Like, I want a personal moogle assistant. Can this work? Can Otto have a little moogle that flutters in and out of his room to hand it basic assignments? Would it be able to survive snorting his 'sugar' (cocaine equivalent) with him? Please advise

Silently regards the gathering group of Coral-ites. He notices Sigurd walk up and join the group, pays attention and immediately notices Jancis' appearance - refraining from commenting on her mired appeared. She would have a good enough reason for coming like this. He can imagine she might be injured again though always putting on her strong facade to alleviate worries (and also because shes a stone-cold killer he secretly thinks). "Sigurd, Jancis. A pleasure as always." Regarding Franz, and his words of buying the tavern for the evening he can't help but wonder how the man affords it, though choose to ask "You've moved? Is Limsa your new home now? You know what this means right? Shirts...and their removal."

Leaving the Bismarck from a very early lunch with a new woman Ridley had arranged for him to meet, he starts to walk to The Wench to take an airship ride back to Ul'Dah. Dressed richly in a dark red suit, he walks across the bridges of Upper Limsa, clicking his heels with hands in his pockets just enjoying the mid-day sun and salt-sea air. Walking down into the Wench, his mind isn't really in anything going on and his focus is on the lift attendant so he can fly back. That is until he spots Franz. With a shrug he puts off his plans and walks over to him, not waiting for an acknowledgment as he takes a seat at the table, crossing a leg and folding his hands in his lap. "Good evening Franz, what brings you here?" he asks wondering what the man is doing in Limsa over his usual haunting of Ul'Dah.

( I feel famous, my name is in here everywhere. ) ( "I shall pray to myself, for myself." Such a terribly ego-driven line, Otto sounds like a maniac. Stole most of it from a show too but it seemed to fit what Mirke was tellin me.)

I legit figured darknight would come with Gladiator. Wow

I've already made up my mind on what I want but I like to look around all the same. Sometimes creators and artists find inspiration in other people's works, even me. If the sun wasn't so harsh today I'd maybe remove my glasses, I usually try and do this when I converse with others but it is awfully bright today. “Good evening Quen.” Quen is a man who is well into his 40s, easily 15 years older than me or more. He's fat and wears the same stained apron everyday, brown and black splotches all over it. Usually he is grinding a gem or polishing a piece behind his booth for the public to get attention on his booth. Today though he's just sitting in a rocking chair lazily moving back and forth until he notices me. He always lights up and stands to speak with me when I arrive though. He offers his hand for a shake and I am one to oblige him with a smile of my own. His grip is calloused and powerful as he pumps my hand a few times before letting it go. “Ah Master Vann, a pleasant surprise. Normally you send one of your pretty ladies that work for you to visit me, now I am most sad.” He finishes that last part off with a hearty laugh. “What can I do for the great Otto though hm?” As I finish shaking his hand I reply “ I need a pair of ear rings as a gift, maybe something made of rubies like those you have hanging. The girl I'm with tonight, her and I's favorite color is red so I'll take those.” He expects me to buy something, and knows I'm not cheap or someone to haggle him. He gets right to packaging my earrings without hesitation, placing them in a textured black leather box and a very simple bow he ties across the top to hold it closed. As he is tying it up and getting ready to take my gil he remarks “Seriously though, send some of those pretty young ladies you have working for you around more often. It would do well for my business and make me a happy old man.” He starts laughing again, low and deep as he hands over my box and I hand him over the gil. I give him a bit of an awkward smile, wishing he was busy working on jewelry so I could just grab and go. He is obsessed with all the girls that I have working for me at times, and enough have complained about him that I try and only send Ridley to deal with him now. He's always one to drone on and on about how they're all 'practically children' to him but still comments on how he wishes he could have one. He does have a point though, most of the women that work for me aren't even 20. They're old enough, its not like I'm taking advantage of a hapless child. We all have our vices and he can be more than a little creepy at times. It's no small wonder why he can't manage to attract personal assistants. Sure I sleep with some of the girls that work for me, but only when they ask. It's all he would care about doing most likely if he could ever manage to draw talent to him. I wish he'd just hire a courtesan and be done with it. I take the box, not really answering his question as I simply say “Thanks Quen, your a big help on a day like this.” I don't wait for a response as I walk away from his stall, stuffing the box inside an inner coat pocket and thinking about the remaining day ahead. I should really take an airship here soon to Limsa to meet Lucy, but first I'm going to walk around the stalls and shops of the Exchange a bit more. I've got a few bells left to burn before I need to take a flight over to Limsa to make my dinner reservation. (To be continued...)

NEED I SAY MORE

Wow all these replies thanks so much.

I'm very glad to see you back Sahra. Can not wait to catch up on old times and perhaps take you to a dinner or two.

After finally ridding myself of the mire and petty annoyances of the Quicksand, I head from its backdoor down the winding alleys to find the Sapphire Exchange. A lot of business is done in this part of Ul'dah, deals as far as the eye can see over the shoulder to shoulder crowds. The crush of people, the noise, the open-air, the smell of business. I'd love it more if it had the right people in charge. However, most of the shops you will come to find are garbage ran by people I equally appraise as such. This strip of commerce is largely filled with everything I am not. 'Business' owners, if you can even call them that, that wheel and deal to do everything they possibly can to maximize profits and only profits. Most of them don't even care if any of their 'goods' sell since half of them are too busy breaking every law they can to make money. Smuggling, thieving, bribing, and extortion. That's all they can manage since they lack the business acumen I have to move up in life. These people take the easy way out when it comes to making gil and I have no desire to feed them any of my own. There are extremely few individuals who have taken the easy way of doing business and managed to make something of themselves that even comes close to a whisper of what I am. Those people are all catastrophically weak to being poor should such a fate ever befall them. They have to grease too many palms to keep their operations afloat, that stops and they're dead. Most of these cheap gangsters can't lean on themselves to do anything which is why The Syndicate is so popular. In Ul'dah we all kick up our dues to The Syndicate and some of us are so privileged we get to give millions every month in exchange for raw power that we can wield over just about anything. The problem comes when a majority of members and affiliates do everything they can to flex and stretch that rented authority to cut down rivals and keep their illicit dealings away from the scalding Thanalan sunlight. I will have no part of it and I enter the world of backdoor Syndicate meetings with extreme caution and utter contempt. I do self-identify as a Syndicate man but don't be fooled, I am better than them. There are exceptions though here in the Sapphire Exchange. Exceptions to the rule of being Syndicate affiliated and being worth less than the man I brought to heel in the Quicksand today. A little past the Market Boards you first approach on the way to the Exchange, is a shop that sells jewelry. Its small, ran by one man and has never moved or changed what it offers. Fairly made trinkets for fair prices so the man can earn a decent income and care for his own. I've never considered buying this establishment out either like I have so many other enterprising shops and stalls. I much prefer to keep this man around as someone I can have a friendly discussion on business with and not be more concerned about my next meal or woman while doing so. He pays his fees to The Syndicate like me, never seeks their help like me, and is one of the few people that I recognize as a true businessman. This shop has sat here in this spot selling earrings and necklaces longer than I've been alive and I always make it a point of buying something every time I am around out of respect for that. All of this plus I had Integra, one of my best girls that works for me, really dig into his past and he has next to no dirt on him – I won't feel filthy after shaking his hand. Ridley mentioned that Lucy was going to be my entertainment for the evening which is a good enough excuse to buy something from him. I am particularly fond of getting earrings for most of the women that manage to stay Ridley's list. Earrings are always in the picture when someone is looking at your face and appraising it. Visible and at times gaudy, this is how I prefer to leave my mark. I could very well make earrings for Lucy, this shop or any other can not ever come close to matching my workmanship and quality. However time is short and sometimes women prefer gifts bought from other Artisans, if only because it gives the idea you went and searched out something for them versus making what you want them to have. (To be continued...)

Indeed, show up and walk forward after I give my pomp and ceremonious opening.