Alcohol was both a boon and bane when conducting business. It often loosened a client’s tongue, made him more amenable to negotiations, and if consumed in excess, made him pliable to all sorts of suggestions.
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It also shortened tempers for some and clouded judgement. At least, that was where the bane came in for Elam Grave.
He usually limited his intake strictly to no more than two glasses of the finest rum. It was hard for him to become drunk, but he had learned early on that indulgence beyond four cups often made him irritable. His thoughts were still clear, but his temperament sharpened. At least he took comfort in the fact that none would ever find him docile under the effect of too much, but he was well aware that even anger could be taken advantage of. And that it was a weakness. He hated weaknesses.
So why, after entertaining a particularly wealthy Doman noble who was insistent on both of them drinking beyond their tolerance, did he think it was a good idea to answer the Xaela herbalist’s call to her clinic on the same night? Perhaps he thought her gullible enough that he was confident he could still get away with playing the part of a wealthy and generous merchant even while inebriated. She certainly wasn’t the type to be able to take advantage of anyone’s emotional state.
But he should have also remembered that she was a valuable asset to him because of her uncanny aptitude with alchemy and herbalism. Certainly someone with such intellect was not beyond all deception, and it was much to his displeasure that this night of all nights, he would discover such was the case. Nabi had somehow gotten hold of a book that listed many of the various potions and drugs of Eorzea. Some academic fool in Ul’dah had recorded such things onto paper, then published it for all to read.
Nabi had all sorts of questions, because of course she did. Most of the drugs he provided her were of the illegal sort, and those too were listed in that cursed book. She recognized too many of the substances, from Pluto, to milkweed, and blackwood rose. He had made up some vague tales to explain their use, but she questioned why the illegality was never mentioned. Her questions were earnest, but it still made Elam clench his teeth that she even dared to question him.
Didn’t she know that he could easily snap her in two like a twig?
Elam knew it was the alcohol burning through his veins that tensed his muscles, his tone much more short and rough than his practiced smooth drawl. He mumbled out some lie, flattered her on her ability to separate legality from usefulness of any substance. She didn’t seem to shy away from the intellectual curiosity side of things, and yet he could see that the usual sweet naivete that shined in her eyes was clouded with doubt and suspicion. Who was it that made her turn against him? Was it Shael? Or that Ishgardian mercenary?
“If it is forbidden there… perhaps we shouldn’t continue to experiment with it here.†Nabi gave voice to her doubts again, as if he hadn’t heard it the first time. “I am just worried that--â€
Elam slammed a fist into the wall as he loomed over the tiny Xaela woman, pinning her just using his looming frame that she had no room to maneuver around him. She flinched, her back stiff against the wall. Her eyes were wide with fear and she blinked quickly up at him.
“Mister Grave, you are scaring me,†she said quietly but firmly.
Perhaps it was the surprisingly calm tone she took with him that yanked him out of the rolling waves of rage that crashed against his insides. The cursed alcohol. He took a long, controlled breath in and exhaled slowly, forcibly releasing the fury that was knotting his muscles. He bowed his head, his forehead coming close to touching hers. She shrunk away from him.
“Apologies, lass…†he said in his most rueful voice. “Had far too much to drink for the night.â€
When she didn’t move and said nothing in response, Elam pushed off the wall and turned. He rubbed his face roughly, to hide the deep scowl that twisted his expression. He knew it only took one misstep to break a trust carefully cultivated, and he knew he might have stumbled this night. He kept his back to her as he struggled to compose himself, trying to calculate his next move.
“We… all make mistakes, every now and then.†Nabi finally said quietly behind him.
Elam let out a long exhale, turning around with some relief. He was struck with disappointment as soon as he saw her face however, it was still full of doubt. Her words were to try and reassure him, nothing more. He had enough sense to keep his expression as sorrowful as he could, and nodded in response.
“I should go before I do something more foolish,†he grumbled, reaching for his coat.
“I don’t think we should continue to--†Nabi started as he hurried toward the door, once again trying to make her case clear. Elam stopped her as he held up a hand.
“Please... lass,†he said as humbly as he could manage. “Make no decisions tonight. Not after my asinine display. We’ll talk in the morn, after I’ve grovelled at your feet, sober. Then if you wish to turn me away, I’ll accept your decision.†Dramatic choice in words, but he hoped it would tug at the woman’s sympathies.
Before she could say another word, he quickly turned and left. Once the cool night air greeted him, a dark glower emerged. He fished out a couple of pearls from his pocket, twirling it between his fingers. If Ghoa couldn’t convince Nabi to change her mind about their contract, then more drastic but calculated measures had to be considered.
And Elam was never the one shy about taking drastic measures.
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It also shortened tempers for some and clouded judgement. At least, that was where the bane came in for Elam Grave.
He usually limited his intake strictly to no more than two glasses of the finest rum. It was hard for him to become drunk, but he had learned early on that indulgence beyond four cups often made him irritable. His thoughts were still clear, but his temperament sharpened. At least he took comfort in the fact that none would ever find him docile under the effect of too much, but he was well aware that even anger could be taken advantage of. And that it was a weakness. He hated weaknesses.
So why, after entertaining a particularly wealthy Doman noble who was insistent on both of them drinking beyond their tolerance, did he think it was a good idea to answer the Xaela herbalist’s call to her clinic on the same night? Perhaps he thought her gullible enough that he was confident he could still get away with playing the part of a wealthy and generous merchant even while inebriated. She certainly wasn’t the type to be able to take advantage of anyone’s emotional state.
But he should have also remembered that she was a valuable asset to him because of her uncanny aptitude with alchemy and herbalism. Certainly someone with such intellect was not beyond all deception, and it was much to his displeasure that this night of all nights, he would discover such was the case. Nabi had somehow gotten hold of a book that listed many of the various potions and drugs of Eorzea. Some academic fool in Ul’dah had recorded such things onto paper, then published it for all to read.
Nabi had all sorts of questions, because of course she did. Most of the drugs he provided her were of the illegal sort, and those too were listed in that cursed book. She recognized too many of the substances, from Pluto, to milkweed, and blackwood rose. He had made up some vague tales to explain their use, but she questioned why the illegality was never mentioned. Her questions were earnest, but it still made Elam clench his teeth that she even dared to question him.
Didn’t she know that he could easily snap her in two like a twig?
Elam knew it was the alcohol burning through his veins that tensed his muscles, his tone much more short and rough than his practiced smooth drawl. He mumbled out some lie, flattered her on her ability to separate legality from usefulness of any substance. She didn’t seem to shy away from the intellectual curiosity side of things, and yet he could see that the usual sweet naivete that shined in her eyes was clouded with doubt and suspicion. Who was it that made her turn against him? Was it Shael? Or that Ishgardian mercenary?
“If it is forbidden there… perhaps we shouldn’t continue to experiment with it here.†Nabi gave voice to her doubts again, as if he hadn’t heard it the first time. “I am just worried that--â€
Elam slammed a fist into the wall as he loomed over the tiny Xaela woman, pinning her just using his looming frame that she had no room to maneuver around him. She flinched, her back stiff against the wall. Her eyes were wide with fear and she blinked quickly up at him.
“Mister Grave, you are scaring me,†she said quietly but firmly.
Perhaps it was the surprisingly calm tone she took with him that yanked him out of the rolling waves of rage that crashed against his insides. The cursed alcohol. He took a long, controlled breath in and exhaled slowly, forcibly releasing the fury that was knotting his muscles. He bowed his head, his forehead coming close to touching hers. She shrunk away from him.
“Apologies, lass…†he said in his most rueful voice. “Had far too much to drink for the night.â€
When she didn’t move and said nothing in response, Elam pushed off the wall and turned. He rubbed his face roughly, to hide the deep scowl that twisted his expression. He knew it only took one misstep to break a trust carefully cultivated, and he knew he might have stumbled this night. He kept his back to her as he struggled to compose himself, trying to calculate his next move.
“We… all make mistakes, every now and then.†Nabi finally said quietly behind him.
Elam let out a long exhale, turning around with some relief. He was struck with disappointment as soon as he saw her face however, it was still full of doubt. Her words were to try and reassure him, nothing more. He had enough sense to keep his expression as sorrowful as he could, and nodded in response.
“I should go before I do something more foolish,†he grumbled, reaching for his coat.
“I don’t think we should continue to--†Nabi started as he hurried toward the door, once again trying to make her case clear. Elam stopped her as he held up a hand.
“Please... lass,†he said as humbly as he could manage. “Make no decisions tonight. Not after my asinine display. We’ll talk in the morn, after I’ve grovelled at your feet, sober. Then if you wish to turn me away, I’ll accept your decision.†Dramatic choice in words, but he hoped it would tug at the woman’s sympathies.
Before she could say another word, he quickly turned and left. Once the cool night air greeted him, a dark glower emerged. He fished out a couple of pearls from his pocket, twirling it between his fingers. If Ghoa couldn’t convince Nabi to change her mind about their contract, then more drastic but calculated measures had to be considered.
And Elam was never the one shy about taking drastic measures.
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