[NSFW] A Typical Day [Closed][OOC comments welcome and encouraged]]

[Unnamed Mercenary]

As always, it's ben a fun read and refreshing perspective. 

 

...where your rich friends at?

[OttoVann]

As always, it's ben a fun read and refreshing perspective. 

 

...where your rich friends at?

 

(soon m8)

[OttoVann]

As I finish up my water, I stand and knock on the counter once to get Momodi's attention. I leave behind a mere ten-thousand gil – enough for a drink of water and enough to let Momodi use the overpay to help keep things afloat on her end. She uses the extra gil I leave behind to pay off the tabs of people that I have selected; charity of sorts. Its surprising how many people stay at Momodi's establishment with no real way of paying her back.

 

While I am standing I take the time to tighten my bowtie and put my glasses back on to protect from the harsh light of the Thanalan sun and also because I feel their red lenses match my rose-pink colored suit so well. With that I turn to leave, my shoes clicking against the floor, or so they would if I had the chance to walk far.

 

“What kind of a man walks around Ul'Dah in a pink suit?” the nameless young Miqo male asks me. He is and small and wiry like all of his kind, easily sitting at 60 ponz less than me in mass and 6 ilms shorter at the minimum. He's sitting at the bar, head turned up to me as I tower over him, grinning and intentionally showing those teeth of his as if a man like me should feel threatened or intimated by him. I'm partially deaf but I'm not stupid, he is taunting me and wondering how I am going to handle him.

 

This isn't the first time I've been asked such a question and its not the last. It almost surprises me how many 'men' make it a point to try and challenge or insult my sense of style; as if they will ever posses the authority or wherewithal to speak to me over fashion and what I should wear. I regard him and his inquiry for the briefest of moments, pulling my bright red cotton gloves tight on my hand and simply turn my back to him and begin to walk away. I try to anyways but this cocksure half-man is unreasonably persistent and reaches a hand out to grab me by the arm to stop me from walking away. Its a dangerous thing for anyone to do, putting their hands on me – especially little boys like this Miqo who are half my size and none of my fury.

 

Admittedly I respond to his becoming physical with me poorly. I don't actually say anything at first, I just look down to him from over my shoulder, teeth gnashed and exhaling heavily through my nostrils as I contemplate how I should deal with him. I make the deeply generous choice of ignoring his transgressions as I try to pull my arm away from him, saying “Excuse me” in a flat tone and try to pull my arm out of his grasp to continue about my day. I'm not about to let boy-sized Miqo derail me from my plans to go shopping and pay personal visits to my businesses. However this one is determined to disturb my routine and doubles-down, tightening his grip on my arm and jerking it back.

 

Its hard to express how fucking furious this makes me. A child-sized and child-like Miqo putting their hands all over me, insulting my attire, and then having the audacity to not let go as I politely try and excuse myself. No one puts their hands on me, ever. If Ridley were here she would be beating this boy like a drum over all of this. Alas I am alone here and it falls to me to teach this young man the necessities of rendering proper customs and courtesies in this world, especially to men like me.

 

[To be continued...]

[OttoVann]

Before I decide what I want to do with this stranger and how I intend to go about it I have to remind myself that most people in this world lack a sense of scale. In truth I do not always fully appreciate scale, though over the last year of my meteoric rise to fame, power, and wealth – I have come to finally begin to grasp what true scale is. It is always fascinating when I have impromptu lessons on true scale. A lot of people, especially men like this Miqo clinging to my arm, can't count to a million or even comprehend the enormity of that number. The proof is obvious most days, ask a person on the street what they could do with a million gil and if they manage to speak a word its usually along the lines of 'I don't know'.

 

This man is hanging onto my left arm and holding surprisingly tight. With a defeated sigh I look down at him and take a seat back in my bar stool, sitting on it sideways to regard him face to face. He begins to almost purr out to me giving an air of satisfaction, his eyes smiling equally with the rest of his frame as his ears are happily twitching atop his head. He feels he has dominated me, at least that’s the read I get from him, especially after he makes a show of releasing my arm as if he had the strength to pull it off somehow. As he does this I roll my eyes only enough to appear as if I am relieved as I knock on the bar once, grabbing the fresh but familiar barmaid that is taking Momodi's place for now. I make eye contact with her, gesturing with two fingers to indicate my usual alcoholic drink so that this gentlemen and I may share a one.

 

With one sharp inhale through my nose and a curt exhale from my mouth I ask the man simply “Who are you, and what do you want?” I am firm, and there is no tone of submission.

 

The man in his ridiculous sounding purr lets me hear some of this heavy accent, a tribal inflection as he rolls his words “Mmmmm my name is K'lo Nunh. Maybe you forgot mmm, but I asked you a question of my own. Now I shall ask you two questions. What kind of a man wears pink, and what is your name you bald, pale freak.” He makes it a point to really enunciate that word 'freak', a shame. I lean to the side a bit, propping my left elbow on the bar as I sit and relax a little keeping him the center of my world.

 

“Well K'lo, my name is Otto Vann. I wear a pink suit because I like the color and I find it befitting to myself and my personality, soft and eye-catching.” I would say more but we are interrupted by the cheery barmaid as she slides us a glass each of whisky. Nothing special about it at all, though I do wish I had some of my medicine to put in it right now.

 

“Anyways, you know my name and you now are privy as to why I wear this fine suit, a suit I made myself...” Instantly I know as soon as I say this he is going to pounce and further insult me. If am so bold as so to share extraneous information with him like the fact that I tailored my own suit, he is going to try and push the envelope further and remind me that he is in charge now. If I couldn't read him backwards and forwards I may enjoy someone with enough bravado to touch me but this man will undoubtedly prove to be a simple bully.

 

Sure enough he cuts me off, “Did I ask you who made it bald-man? Mmm...” is all he says as he trails his words off and takes the drink set in front of me by the barmaid.. He swirls it once before knocking it back, unceremoniously swallowing it all in one gulp as he slams the glass back on the bar. He wastes no time in taking his drink, and holding it again to sniff it. This time though he makes a point to swirl it several times, taking a small sip from it as he gently sets his glass down to match my gaze “Thank you for the drinks bald-man Otto. You asked me what do I want, mmm I wanted a drink that is all. Why else would I come to a bar eh?” He finally looks away from me for a moment as he shakes his head, muttering “Stupid hyur”.

 

At this point I've tolerated him enough. I match his gaze, keeping a genuine curiosity as I look him over one last time. I know little of this race, I can't tell if he is a 'Keeper' or a 'Seeker'. He has the surname of Nunh and if I recollect this means he is used by the women of his tribe for mating purposes. He is also small, maybe sitting at a proud 66 ilms at the most and if he is lucky weighing in at 140 ponz. Truthfully there isn't a lot for me to go off. I'm a giant compared to him and I am positive I could snatch the life out of him with ease if I wanted to but I'm just not that kind of man most days. Besides the lovely Coatleque Crofte is still on patrol at her pillar. I don’t think I would mind her putting me in handcuffs but I would rather that happen later in the day. All the same I have people to do, things to see, and places to be. I have no time for games with half-men.

 

[To be continued...]

[OttoVann]

“K'lo, do you know how much those drinks cost that I just ordered?” I ask him this with sincerity, I never show my rage. I just make sure to use it to its fullest effects.

 

K'lo looks at me slightly confused, not ready for the shift in conversation. He gives me an incredulous look as he asks sharply “What?”

 

I repeat myself now, “I asked you, how much do you think that liquor costs that you just drank?” I make sure to asj a little more slowly, but not to the point of insulting him, being clear and concise.

 

It's obvious from the look on his face he is unsure what to say or do. He takes a few moments to answer but in typical arrogant fashion K'lo replies “Mmm I have no idea. It would be most wise for you to not tell me I am stuck with the tab either. Bad things happen to stupid hyur that cross Nunh.” It is so hard to no roll my eyes here but I persist and stay the course.

 

“They cost 16 gil total K'lo. What do you think of that?” I genuinely have no idea how K'lo will answer but he is about to reveal a lot about himself me whether he knows it or not.

 

“Ahh, well if you are asking me what I think I will happily tell you. One, you should be careful not to speak out of turn to me again.”

 

It is so hard for me to not strangle this man where he sits right now.

 

“Two, mmmm, 16 gil for city-swill like that? Very pricey. Maybe that's why you ordered it to impress me with your fancy suit and your deep pockets eh?”

 

I sort of cant my head slightly, eyes closed as I give the slightest shrug to my shoulders. As I open my eyes, the facade is gone and the irritation is apparent. I turn in my stool, facing the bar fully and hold up a hand to grab the barmaid's attention.

 

“I would like my usual. Make it a double, put it on ice and grind a little sugar into it as well for me.”

 

This makes the barmaid stammer a moment “Ah Mr. Vann, a drink like that with ice will cost 55 gil. Shall I put it on your tab?”

 

A slight nod is all I give her as I start to totally ignore the man to my right, making him obviously seethe at least for a moment.

 

K'lo snarls to me “Did I ask for sugar in my drink, or gods-forsaken ice for that matter? You've ruined it! What kind of a fool pays nearly 60 damn gil for a ridiculous drink like that?”

 

Now I put on the act of shock and surprise myself “You can't afford a 55 gil drink sir? I figured a proud Nunh like yourself could afford ten such drinks. Besides the drink isn't for you, its a prop.” I cut my words short as the barmaid hands me my drink. She put it in a crystal tumbler, with that giant orb of ice sitting in the middle of the drink to keep it cold and to melt a little water into the mixture. A rather fine and pompous display, exactly what I needed.

 

“Master K'lo, what do you do for a living? I was surprised with that grip of yours. It felt as if I couldn't even escape.” An obvious lie but I'm still feeling him out before I make my mark on him and finally depart for that shopping I've had my mind on for the past few minutes at the Sapphire Exchange.

 

“Mmm, I am a /mercenary/” He makes a concerted effort to really roll the word mercenary off his tongue, obviously proud of considering himself such. I turn back on my stool, with my 'expensive' drink in hand and regard him as he mentions his line of work. I don't drink from the glass I just simply hold it in my gloved hand, resting it against my leg.

 

“Interesting line of work K'lo, do you swing a sword around perhaps? If you would be so kind as to entertain me, tell about your most lucrative contract or assignment you've taken on so far.” I finally drink from my crystal glass, taking only a slight slip, enough to get the flavor on my tongue. I don't want to taste any sort of alcohol right now. I look to the Miqo with legitimate expectation to be impressed, knowing he won't be able to.

 

He takes a moment to consider me and my sudden interest in him. As he watches me sip from my own tumbler he takes his glass of whisky he had yet to finish from my first order and sips it as well. “Well bald-one, I was once paid a handsome sum of 700 gil to 'take care' of this little-lords problem. He had a man he wanted hurt so I did the hurting. Mmm understand?”

 

I can never believe my ill-fortune at times. This Miqo is coming to me acting like some sort of supreme hardass and he thinks highly of himself for earning 700gil by most likely ambushing someone from behind to hurt them? I get tired of the hustle and bustle of the city sometimes.

 

[to be continued...]

[OttoVann]

“Well K'lo that is down-right fascinating. Is there a particular reason why you put your hands on me today? Perhaps you were hired to 'hurt' me as you mentioned you line of work sometimes entails?” I've given up pretext with this idiot, I'm ready to leave.

 

“Mmm well this Nunh asked you a question, and you ignored me. I had to teach you a lesson.” He says this in such a matter-of-fact tone that it's hard for me not to fall over. I never get spoken to this way for obvious reasons and this fool is either truly clueless or has a death-wish.

 

Without warning I rise from my stool, and make it a point of standing just a little too close to K'lo as I look down at him with an extended hand, offering it in a shake “It was a pleasure to meet you K'lo. You'll have to forgive me but I must be off, I have business to tend to.”

 

He tries his best to awkwardly turn in his stool to face me, clearly uncomfortable and also finding it hard to turn to me since I am too close. As he takes my hand in his and shakes it, I make sure to grip just a little too tightly as I keep looking down at him smiling. “K'lo. Do you have any idea as to how much of an insignificant piss-ant you are to a man like me? I've been meaning to ask since you first touched me, just who the fuck you think you are.” I'm smiling ear to ear at this point. Naturally he looks up to me and instantly has anger flash across his face. He tries, futilely, to pull his hand away from my but at this point I've latched onto him like a steel vice. I've been working with my hands for twenty years and I am no slouch. I'm 73 ilms tall and weigh in at around 220 ponz. I am a colossus compared to this Miqo and he isn't getting this hand back anytime soon.

 

Every time he tugs and tries to pull away from me, I squeeze just a little bit harder, knowing that the pain is starting to settle in. In fact I'm not even budging really, he is just too small to put any leverage on me; it's as if he is trying to pull down a stone pillar that just won't react. Predictably he pulls his left hand back, claws out ready to swipe at me and I see it coming. As soon as he begins to swing on me I put real force behind my grip, my face breaking its smile as I grit my teeth and clamp down hard on his hand. It is satisfying feeling one of the tiny bones in his right hand fracture a bit, him giving up his momentum from his swing as the pain rips through his body. Through all of this though, K'lo is impressing me even though I want to break him. He is refusing to yelp in pain just yet and is gnashing his own teeth as I crush his hand. He is putting on a tough appearance for now and I can appreciate that.

 

“K'lo.” If looks could kill, my family, friends, and myself would all be dead. K'lo is fuming but he very much understands who is in charge of the situation now.

 

He looks up to me as I gain his attention “I asked you a question.” He gives one last earnest attempt to pull free from me. We both know he won't escape and we both know he is doing it to save face before submitting. All the same I do not spare him as I continue to crush his hand inside of my grip – the pangs of agony on his face would be almost satisfying if I wasn't in the mood to be shopping right now. Still though I am surprised he isn't giving into the pain, at least he wasn't all talk. I've seen and made men break from far less.

 

 

[To be continued...]

[OttoVann]

Through gnashed teeth and a warped face, K'lo is goaded into a reply “Fuck you, you bald headed freak” is all he sputters out before I take to clamping even harder; reaching near the maximum of my arm strength. I can only imagine how out of character I look and I know I would hate it. I pride myself on staying calm, not breaking stride or composure as I handle business. It's part of the reason on how I have gotten this far, people keep attributing to me some sort of extreme malice behind my smiles and honeyed words even in the face of danger, threat, or even good business tidings. I'm too proud to let the outside world see me like this but sometimes even the greatest men are bothered by surprisingly small things – like K'lo.

 

With a heavy sigh I shake my head in genuine disappointment as I use every bit of strength I have in my arm and core to come down on K'lo. All of my might, all of my determination weighs in on this Miqo as I try and cripple him – and it's working. His hand folds in my grip. I am squeezing and crushing it into a something resembling a tube; gnarled and lame. Finally this elicits a yelp and then a scream of pain as his bones crack and I ensure his primary hand is forever useless to him since there is no chance he can afford the right kind of healing for the 'lofty' contracts he pulls in. He desperately uses his left hand to claw, pull, hit, anything to get him out of my grip but I'm lost as I just focus on putting all my power into my grasp. His attempts to break free are pitiful since he is in overwhelming anguish and his efforts are useless.

 

His scream of pain also breaks me out of my own hateful trance a bit, and I yank his hand up to yank him from his stool. I do this to make him hurt even more but to also exert control. Angrily I ask him “Have you ever killed a stranger before K'lo?” By the point he is out his seat, acquiescing to my jerking him up, and standing as best he can, directly again me since I am so close to his stool. He is awkward, afraid, and wishing he had never crossed me. Funny how that always works. I make sure to repeat myself, slowly and with a slightly raised voice indicating that I am far and beyond over this and ready to move on.

 

Out of nowhere, and entirely unexpectedly, a mailed hand places itself on my shoulder. I only barely move my head, mostly looking to the side with my eyes to notice that none other than Coatleque Crofte has put her hands on me. Instantly, as if I was hit by a spell square in the chest, I release K'lo and let him fall limp to the floor like the pathetic piece of shit he is. I inhale sharply through my nostrils, opening my eyes wide for a moment as I regard Lady Crofte. She doesn't have to say a thing, her disapproving glare yet sympathetic hand on my shoulder tell me all I need to hear. Get the fuck out of the Quicksand so I don't have to regretfully do or say anything. This also servers to amplify her authority if she can wordlessly get me to leave and only barely touching me. I'll do this for her.

 

I take a moment to close my eyes, breathing slowly to right my mind and regain my composure. I reach up to my tie, sussing it and making sure it looks presentable before giving an apologetic nod to Crofte. I just wanted to go shopping. I turn on my heels, making my way to the door. I'd leave but as I walk up the incline to the upper part of the Quicksand I notice the railing supporting its normal host of patrons I stop and think for a moment. I quickly make up my mind with a shrug and approach the entire host of strangers with outstretched arms as I greet them loudly to get their attention. With the way I am dressed, in this pink suit of mine, it doesn't take much for people to notice me. Which is part of the point of why I wear such gaudy colors.

 

“Gentlemen, ladies, adventurers, nobodies. My name is Otto Vann as surely some of you already know.” I reach into my suit jacket, pulling out a tiny bag of rich red silk and throw it on the ground in front of the gaggle of people. “Inside that bag is one-hundred thousand gil, pieced out into ten coins. Take it, head over to that bar, and remove the garbage with the hurt hand being stood over by that Paladin. Make it fast.” I do not wait for a reply, an answer, or even an acknowledgment. The right person from that crowd will read between those lines and scoop that gil up. Someone is going to beat that idiot to within an inch of his life after they wrangle him out of the Quicksand. As I stand in front of the exit, ready to push the doors wide open and leave, a younger man runs up to the doors and parts them for me.

 

“Please sir, allow me” is what he pipes out. I give him a curt nod and leave that gods-damned bar for the day, not one to return to it until tomorrow now. As I'm stepping through the doors I stop momentarily to reach to my pocket, pulling out a five-thousand gil piece to hand to the boy. I don’t want to know his name and I don't care for it. He is beholden to me now without a doubt. Its obvious as he can barely contain his jubilance on his face – probably never even seeing so much money.

 

It amuses me that I crushed the hand and livelihood of an idiot who boasted about working hard for 700 gil by ambushing someone while I made this boy rich for opening my door for me. I did all of that and not a single word was uttered towards me, and one never will be. That’s how power works in Ul'Dah, real power. Strangers run to open your doors and see to your needs without asking, Paladins give you wordless pleas to leave when you've caused a problem, men fold to you like paper when you show them you are not to be trifled with. Once you become as wealthy as I do it turns into a form of otherworldly oppression and I know full well how to exercise it. This is how scale works.

 

(To be continued...)

[OttoVann]

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...)

[OttoVann]

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...)

[OttoVann]

(Did you think I had forgotten you?)

 

With my impromptu shopping out of the way I start to head back from the Exchange up towards the Gate of Nald. With my hands on my pockets and my affable smile at the ready I keep walking up the streets, the crowds thinning the further you get away from the markets. Eventually I get far enough up the avenues to start approaching the Quicksand again, it standing tall and proud from its front entrance directly in front of the Gate. Its the first thing you encounter in this city, a large and impressive water fountain that sits to the facade of the building with the steps that lead up to the entrance flanking it on both sides.

 

Unfortunately for me the first thing I encounter today when I reach the gate is Ulain. Ulain Luax, an incompetent investor who can not for the life of him dress anything but poorly. He never fails to have a cheap paid Courtesan on his arm as he walks around and tries to leech off of successful men and women of Ul'Dah – or pretending to be our friend to impress his paid-for-date. I wish I could roll my eyes, but he may one day be useful to me though I very much doubt it.

 

“Ah MR. Otto VANN!” He makes a point of emphasizing my name in hopes that his arm candy will be impressed. I've been with her before and I know she has been impressed with me. I'd laugh if it mattered, I just can't bring myself to get involved though. Still I go from a leisurely pace to trying to look busy and non-plussed. I can not be bothered with someone trying to pitch me some idiotic investment venture that he cooked up last night.

 

I look to him with pursed lips and a slight tilt of my head to show 'I really don't have time for this'. He is a smart man and is perceptive enough to pick up on it – but he persists nonetheless. He drones on “I was just talking to my latest dame here about this swell idea I had to earn some serious gil.” I can barely breathe in to reply before this rotund little hyur plows into the rest of his pointless pitch “Picture this, your jewelry on all the gals on Ul'Dah. Not just any gals but the courtesans of Ul'Dah.” He takes a moment to stop and breathe, looking at me with disdain as he continues his pitch “Now I know what your thinking. My jewelry on whores?! Trust me my boy I've got it all figured out...”

 

Holding up a hand of protest to his face I cut him off “Ulain, please. Not now. I have...”

 

If there is one thing in this world I can not and will never stand for – it's being rudely interrupted, especially when I am all of polite and cordial. Immediately Ulain launch into his spiel “Ah come on partner. I'm just trying to make us both rich! You pay me a finders fee and I provide the girls with the mosy eyes on them. Whadda ya say?”

Moments like these require men like me to make fools like this hate us so we can be left in peace. Ulain doesn't care about pitching me the idea successfully, he's just trying to impress that lovely little Miqo attached to his arm. I look back to appraise her again, trying to recollect her name and shutting Ulain out of my world. In the background I could still imagine hearing him bleat on about the woman on his arm upon seeing my notice her, telling me her name and how lovely she is but I can't hear him after making her the focus of my mind for the moment.

 

Her eyes find their way to mine, sultry and inviting and we simply hold each other's gaze as we think about whether we feel like leaving together and dumping Ulain to his machinations, alone. She has rimmed her eyes with dark shades of purple, matching the color of her eyes – much like Lhea does. Mocha colored skin that's obviously smooth to perfection, jetblack hair that's been left to grow long and hang down a part of her back. The Miqo is short in stature, even for her own kind and also lacking much of a chest – something some men pay extra for to fulfill their desire for younger looking types. She is about everything you'd want from someone paid to hang onto your arm and keep your bed warm. She finally breaks the stand-still and smiles at me, her eyes only barely speaking to me – whispering 'Please. Can I come with you?'.

 

[To be continued...]

[OttoVann]

Breaking the silence between us, and coming back to my senses I can hear Ulain still droning on, he literally can't shut the fuck up if he tried. One of his 'best' features if he had anything else noteworthy about him. I extend my hand towards her, still in its red-felt glove, offering her the reprieve she clearly wants. She plays along and seems puzzled then hesitant at first – she is still hanging on another client's arm. “Care to join me Y'lesta? I was just about to head up to the Airstrip.” I keep my eye contact maintained with her, not wanting to break it mostly because I am hoping Ulain gets the point, though I have my doubts he gets anything.

 

Immediately Ulain blurts out “Do what? Hey now you wait just a minute, I found her fair in the Quicksand and you can't just go around asking another man's girl to come with you - especially in front of them.” He reaches out his free hand and almost touches me, wanting to push my own away – fortunately for him he thinks better of it at the last moment. I'm not sure why he made a point to really enunciate that word either, raising his voice as he said it. Outwardly my smile only widens and my eyes show warmth and tenderness. Inwardly however, I'm frowning. Disgust would be on my face if I could allow it. If Ridley we're here she would be threatening him with something along the lines of 'Care to find out how much pain a man can endure and live to tell about?'.

 

Y'stela looks at me with apprehension. She puts on a false air of unsureness, looking up to Ulaine with an almost terrified expression as she lays her ears flat against her head. She is so good at acting right now I can't actually tell if she is legitimately scared of Ulaine. For a moment all of us are at a standstill, myself standing there with my hand outstretched, her still hooked to his offered arm, and Ulain just standing there obviously grinding his teeth as he looks at me with nothing to say for his frustration. I have a hunch this woman is business before pleasure – from what little I remember of her so I finally break the silence.

 

“So how much is he paying you exactly?” Instantly he breaks their arms being linked together, and starts to stammer out a protestation while I continue to smile as I keep her gaze when she looks up to me, humor in her eyes while her face shows embarrassment and confusion for his sake. Before he can formulate his response I let false anger cloud my face as I make a show of snapping the fingers of my outstretched hand towards him while I refuse to look at him. Amazingly he finally quiets, assuming I'm ready to kill him, or have him killed. Sometimes Syndicate affiliation has its advantages. Too bad he couldn't just leave me alone, but this will get him to keep his distance for some time.

 

With the new found patience instilled into Ulain, I continue speaking to Y'stela “I'll triple whatever he paid – come with me little one.” As I let my words hang in the air I beckon her to me. She takes a step forward, looking back to him with regret on her face to say 'I have to go', then steps forward to me, easily and instantly wrapping her arm around mine. Content with my new found partner, I take a turn for the Quicksand and bring her along with me as we climb those stairs. Truly I wasn't interested in a lay right now, especially considering the dinner I was planning to make out of Lucy, but sometimes you just need to go with the flow. Besides I am doing this woman a great service, rescuing her from that fat slob of an idiot Ulain.

As we round the top of the stairs I stop and look down to her as she stands at my sides. She keeps her gaze locked forward, that humor twinkle still in those large eyes though her face doesn't show it. After a moments time she says “Thank you Sir Vann.” Finally she betrays some outward emotion as she shifts her weight on her legs heels “Did you really mean triple? He took out a loan to afford me for the last two days...” she trails her words off with obvious pity for him. “You would have to pay me at least two hundred thousand gil, Sir Vann.” She definitely is business first then pleasure – something I can appreciate.

 

An impressed look comes across on my face while I inwardly laugh at the plight of a man who takes out loans to afford whores. “Two hundred thousand?" I nod to her in a sort of agreement. "I can double that for your trouble. Shall we go to a room I keep here at the QuickSand then?”

 

Expectantly this shatters her composure as she looks up to gape at me. Most likely she is running in her head what she can do with so much money. I doubt she has ever seen that much at once, probably more than what she earns in weeks worth of work. I give her enough time to collect herself before jerking my head to the Quicksand “Shall we go then Y'stela?”

 

“Yes, Sir Vann.” Curt and to the point. As we enter the Quicksand I notice my earlier problem was removed, but also notice a few sets of eyes following me. I avoid making large scenes, but I also know how word travels in here. As we come to the bar, an assistant notices my approach with someone hanging on my arm and gets all the instruction they need as they turn around to a rack with keys hanging on it. I made them attach a small pink feather to a chain that hangs on a ring to the key for my room, and as he slides it over I pick it up with a small grin and bow of the head.

The winding hallways of the QuickSand with numbered doors is quite unimpressive. You hear the tell-tale knocking from some rooms as you pass by. Many courtesans basically live in the QuickSand outright to get easy access to their work. As we finally head down a few more hallways we come to my room that I have outright bought leased indefinitely. Room 77. Its actually not the seventy-seventh room here but I find the number seven to be a number of completeness so I had my peculiar scheming tacked onto my door and they obliged since I put so much coin their way.

 

As I jiggle the key to my room to unlock it, the dusty air kicks up and swirls slightly as I push the door open. It's been a few days since someone came into here to maintain it – with a fine layer of dust starting to form on top of the furniture in here. Still, everything is neat and set precisely the way I insist of it. I free my arm of Y'stela's linking as I head over to a nightstand beside the bed and sort through the mail that has been left on it addressed to me. Y'stela follows me in and sits right in the doorway, making sweeping looks of the room and watches me as I sit on the side of my bed sorting my mail. I look up to her with my head tilted to look over to tops of my glasses just long enough to send her the message – and true to her professional nature she gets it and backs herself up, pushing the door closed as she backs into it. Once the door is closed she reaches up from behind her and latches it locked and walks over to stand in front of me and removes the glasses from my face.

 

“For four-hundred thousand gil I am yours, in all things. I belong to you fully for as long as you want, you can do whatever you want with me in any way. I am well trained as I am sure you remember from when you hired me a couple of months ago – and I have so many more tricks I can show you now if you'd prefer.” She doesn't wait for a response out of me or my answer, she reaches to the sash holding her skirt up and pulls at it once with purpose, letting it glide off of her frame and crumple on the floor at her feet.

 

The routine is as natural as breathing to me as I hook a finger to my bow-tie to pull it loose as I turn my neck to the sides to loosen up my collar after unbuttoning it. She crooks a finger under my chin and pulls my face up to look at hers “Just one thing Master Vann. My name isn't Y'stela.”

 

I'd shrug if I cared.

 

[To be continued...]