Date: Nathansday (Or Nthanda's Day) ------- Location: Salter & Sons
It's a pleasantly-mild day. The warehouse at Salter & Sons isn't typically busy, but a couple laborers work to stock planks in the shelves.
(Tholbert): A hoary carpenter named Tholbert Salter oversees the laborers, grumbling at them loudly and directing that certain-size planks of certain sorts of wood must go in various shelves. "By the saint's itchy feet, how many times do I got to tell you?! That's -cragpine-, put it on the trash shelves --"
He's being so overbearing about everything that one might consider something else is on his mind. And he complains about that, too, from time to time -- peppering side comments with quietly-muttered Ilexi vulgarities. "Bloody Elukoi bastard thinks he's -my- friend? Better think again, swineson. I'm running a business here..."
(Yasin): Yasin wanders into the warehouse through the front door, the burly young man doing his best to stay out of the way of any laborers as they move those planks from place to place. Ziyad Farhat, a shorter, leaner reddish-gold eyed young man, follows behind.
As the various shouts and complaints from Tholbert are uttered, Yasin shoots Ziyad a few looks. Noticeable among those looks is a brief expression of, 'Did we come at a bad time?' But the young Razmani seems to steel himself, for he ventures forward a few more steps anyway, placing himself near, but not too close to, Tholbert Salter.
Yasin waits for the right moment to interject -- if one comes, that is -- and eventually delivers in a loud but not unpleasant, lightly-accented Ruvic, "Good morning, Goodman Salter. We... have a potential business opportunity, if you have the time now to discuss." Maybe the young man is saving introductions until he has the carpenter's attention.
And he quiets then, waiting patiently.
(Ziyad): The shorter young man standing following a step behind Yasin surveys the bustling warehouse with those reddish-gold eyes of his and he gives his burlier friend a light shrug upon meeting Yasin's brief glance. Ziyad keeps pace as they move closer to the carpenter overseeing all the work, his gaze continue to flit this way and that in an attempt to take in everything's that's going on around him. There's something oddly contemplative in those eyes of his and there's a moment when his brows briefly furrow as if something had flitted through his thoughts.
Ziyad turns his attention more firmly upon Tholbert once Yasin comes to a stop that second time, parking himself at his friend's right shoulder in a show of support. He subtly brushes the back of his fingers down the front of his purple calico thawb to tidy up a few wrinkles in an attempt to make himself more presentable.
"Good morning, Goodman Salter," Ziyad echoes pleasantly once Yasin has broken the ice. He dips at the waist, presenting Tholbert with a bow that's deep enough to convey polite respect by his own calculations. An amiable smile lingers upon his lips when he straightens.
(Tholbert): The so-named Goodman Salter turns just his head to stare at the two furreners who invaded his warehouse and had the gall to approach him while he was busy. At that initial greeting, he glowers at them both so frostily that one might imagine he was a wholly different man from the one who literally ran from the lumber camp all the way to the gate when he was first confronted by the party of shipwreckees.
Then he folds both arms, turning from the visibly-relieved laborers, and cocks a hoary eyebrow. "A business opportunity?" he asks, in Ruvic, and there is genuine interest that might be noticed behind that cagey frown and grouchily-wrinkled forehead.
(Yasin): That glower certainly has an effect on Yasin's 'steel', and there's a moment where he seems to almost falter in his resolve, dipping his head in an apologetic manner. But the question and genuine interest from Salter salvages the moment. The young Razmani straightens out his posture and looks up towards the towering carpenter, nodding his head.
"Yes. A construction opportunity." He rubs his hands down the length of his soot-stained apron, where a number of metal tools are faintly seen poking their heads out of various pockets. Those hands are youthful, but also callused and thick with signs of hard labor. "I am known as Yasin of Alheri, and I am working as an apprentice under Master Smythe, the farrier. This," he says, turning his head to regard Ziyad, then looking back to Salter, "is Ziyad Farhat, a scholar with some engineering experience."
"We are... pursuing a construction project to repair and improve an abandoned building on Painter Street. To turn it into an orphanage. We are comfortable helping out with labor and gathering materials. But we thought it smart to speak to you and see if this was a project that could be of interest to you."
Looking briefly to Ziyad, then back, he concludes with, "At a minimum, we are interested in purchasing guidance for the project overall. What to acquire, the plans for the repair. But if there are other options, such as your business's supplies and labor, we could discuss that, too."
He then crosses his thick arms in a casual manner, turning to regard Ziyad and Salter both, perhaps allowing the former to add anything on.
(GM): OOC: Yasin just rolled magnetism by itself, coming up with 22.
(Ziyad): Ziyad's smile freezes briefly, but he recovers quickly enough to prevent it from fully falling off. Instead, the young man redoubles his efforts, the corners of his lips stretching a bit further to widen into the most winsome smile that he's capable of mustering. Only the subtle shifting of his weight onto his left foot, then only his right showcases a hint of his unease.
"Pleased to officially meet you," Ziyad says pleasantly in his accented Ruvic upon being introduced by Yasin. He neglects to mention any prior meetings under thunderous storm and cries of foreign devils being thrown around. "Yasin exaggerates slightly. I've made a brief study of engineering, but I'm not true expert."
The young man takes the opportunity produced by touching upon this specific terminology to segue smoothly into his next piece. "This is an expansive operation that I see here," he states while panning reddish-gold eyes across the warehouse and its many busy workers. He allows the faintest touch of awe and admiration to color his tone. "Seeing how smoothly you're running this and the display of knowledge from the instructions you were giving, I can tell that you're a true expert in your field. You hope that you understand why we'd need guidance from someone with your level of experience when it comes to such a big project. It's especially important that the work is done correctly for the sake of the children."
(GM): OOC: Ziyad just rolled magnetism by itself, coming up with 35.
(Tholbert): Grimacing suspiciously at the two young men, but evidently still somewhat disarmed by their charms, the hoary carpenter grumbles wordlessly for a second before scoffing. "An orphanage?" he states, dubiously. "That's no business opportunity. Charity. For the monks."
His own Ruvic relatively smooth but still holding onto hints of Ilexi at the edges, Tholbert Salter considers for a moment longer, gaze lingering on Ziyad. Perhaps all that flattery found its mark. Finally, he adds grudgingly -- looking back to Yasin -- "I'd take a look at this building for you, but my time is costly. Two duskies an hour, and that's the best I can do."
Then, he holds up a scolding finger, but it doesn't wag. It just hovers there, half-threateningly. "And you'd certainly need permission of the Greyleighs, or at very least, Mayor Ascot's office, to do any construction around here.." A grouchy old-man ramble follows. "Perhaps you ungodly boys don't know how good folk in a good town live their lives, but this land belongs to the Greyleighs, and there's no such thing as an abandoned building. It belongs to the noble lord, you hear. And we wouldn't take kindly to outsiders just deciding to take over bits of Greyleigh property, thinking it were 'abandoned', no sir. Matter of fact, I'm fair certain everywhere in St Loomis has some sort of tenant, even to the lowliest of them, so you'd best be certain. Laws. Heathens. Pah."
That crochety rant concluded, the carpenter sheathes his finger by hooking into a belt, peering sharply back towards the laborers for an unwelcome span of oversight.
(Yasin): That grouchy old-man ramble takes place, and is received by Yasin. He immediately uncrosses his arms (no doubt, better to receive said rant without such a posture), settling them to his sides. Yet all the while, he maintains his gaze on Tholbert, offering an acknowledging nod here and there, with an occasional "Yes," and "My mistake," interspersed for good measure.
One might even get the sense that this young man is used to a stern lecture. Only when that's all finished and Tholbert peers back towards the laborers does Yasin shoot Ziyad a quick look, before he resettles his eyes on Tholbert.
The first words out of Yasin's mouth? "You're right, Goodman." Followed by, "Thank you for the knowledge of the laws and permissions required. We will of course seek permission before doing any work. I believe one of our group, Firouzeh, has already written a letter to the Greyleighs and is awaiting a reply."
Perhaps notably, the smith seems to skirt past the issue of calling the building 'abandoned'.
Yasin continues, "She also plans to bring this up at the town hall next week. We wanted to have all of our information ready before speaking, and having your expertise would certainly help us speak correctly and accurately about the state of the building and what it could benefit from."
He looks over to Ziyad, then, as if handing the remainder of this portion of the conversation to his friend.
(Ziyad): The friendly smile that Ziyad had been upholding eases into one of serious consideration while he nods along to Tholbert's ranting as if the old carpenter demeanor isn't insulting in the least. He quickly jumps in to support Yasin upon receiving a glance from his friend.
"Goodman Salter, you just proved exactly why it's so important that we include important figures in the community like you when trying to start such a large project," the young man points out gravely.
He makes a vague, sweeping gesture that encompasses the warehouse, and beyond. "Despite your people so generously opening their arms to welcome us, it doesn't change the fact that we've only lived here for a very short period of time. It'll take a true citizen of this town to give us the guidance we need to avoid pitfalls that would seem like commonsense to you."
Ziyad's somber tone softens, and a hint of his original smile returns as he continues speaking. "It's lucky that Say-- Goodwoman Firouzeh thought of speaking to the Greyleighs. Yet, there must be so much more we're unaware of, and that you can point out to us when you see the place."
He spread his hands to the sides and gives Tholbert a shrug that conveys his helplessness.
"At the very least, we have no experience in construction. We don't understand the work and costs involved. It would be poor ill manners of us to deceive Lord and Lady Greyleigh by giving them the wrong numbers, even if it's only by accident. They deserve our respect after all."
(Tholbert): Scowling at the mention of some foreign woman who has already broached this plan to the Greyleighs, Tholbert juts out his jaw and unfolds both arms to make a motion of dismissal to the laborers. It doesn't appear that he's all that familiar with the name 'Firouzeh'. Then again, if locals are gossiping about her, they're probably calling her 'Feero' or 'Foozy' or something like that.
The hoary carpenter turns to stalk towards the front room, nodding stiffly at Ziyad's last words. "That's so," he agrees sharply, as if the sternness of his tone will make up for the fact that he's concurring with heathens.
"Painter's Street, you say?" he asks then, icy glower shot towards Yasin with the question, tone rather brusque and gruff. "Just south of the Wollock, round the corner, with the odd facade. That 'un?"
It might be strange that a relatively well-to-do craftsman knows the dockworker housing district well enough to have an idea of which building these foreigners might be considering abandoned. But then, perhaps it's just that the hoary carpenter knows his town well enough to guess...
Meanwhile, the laborers talk quietly amongst themselves, exchanging looks and glancing at the foreigners, setting about to board a wagon back to the lumberyard.
(Yasin): Yasin watches Ziyad out of the corner of an eye as the shorter man takes over the conversation. There's a hint of a smile that's barely visible in a twitch near the edge of his lips as Ziyad speaks, as he conveys both gratitude and helplessness to the hoary carpenter. A hint, only, as every other aspect of Yasin's expression maintains neutrality, eyes mostly focused on observing the businessman in front of him. Studying him, almost.
That little bit of a smile dissipates entirely as Ziyad's part draws to a close and Tholbert returns his attention to Yasin. Yasin's right hand idly fidgets with the head of a tiny, sharp-edged steel hammer that's poking out of a pocket in his apron.
"That's right," Yasin replies to Salter, an agreeable tone to his bass-baritone voice. His brow arches in surprise, however, as Salter describes -exactly- the building they came there to talk about. He gives the taller man an acknowledging dip of his head, and says, "Yes. That is the one. The flooring is splintered and weak. There are gaps in the roof, the wall looks to me like it is liable to come apart. But that is only what I can see, of course. My eyes are untrained in this trade."
Yasin ceases his fidgeting, and seems about to hold out his hand towards Tholbert, as if in the form of a handshake. He aborts this gesture a quarter way through and instead wipes his hand down the length of his apron -- not the most graceful save, but not terrible. Maybe he decided that he wasn't entirely sure if the hoary carpenter wanted to shake hands with foreigners.
"Do we have an agreement, then? You will provide your expert opinion on the building and a plan of what it requires? This will allow us to speak to it properly, both in our correspondence with the Greyleighs, and at the town hall."
(Ziyad): There's a subtle relaxing in Ziyad's posture when Tholbert's attention is diverted towards Yasin once more. His lips part very breathing to suck in the shallowest of breaths while he folds his hands behind his back and shifts backwards slightly to park himself quietly a half step behind the burlier man.
A single slow blink of reddish-gold eyes conveys Ziyad's surprise that the hoary carpenter knows exactly the building in question without being given the details first. The young man's gaze flicks briefly towards Yasin to take in his friend's reaction, then returns to land firmly on Tholbert.
"And of course we'll pay the fee involved in the assessment that you'll be doing," the young man adds quickly and quietly after Yasin poses his question regarding the agreement. "We understand that your time is precious. You're obviously a very busy man." Once more, he makes a show of panning his head from side to side to take in the hectic energy within the warehouse.
(Tholbert): Tholbert gives a resigned huff, but nods at the question of agreement. "I'll send word," he states, curtly. "When I've had a look." It sounds as though even if he does know the building, he hasn't been there recently at all.
Then the hoary carpenter gazes off with a frown, but it's a frown of remembrance rather than a frown of 'damn-furreners-in-my-workspace'.
"Perlie's old place," he mutters, half-to-himself, but still speaking in Ruvic. Perhaps odd, again, there's a tinge of bitterness in his tone... but it gives way to a deeper frown. That's a perplexed look. Whatever's going through his mind, though, he makes no mention of it.
This time, the dismissive gesture he makes is aimed towards Ziyad and Yasin.
(Yasin): Yasin nods to Tholbert's curt comment, seeming to have expected something of that sort.
He didn't expect the next few things, though, and there's a curious arch of Yasin's brow as he listens to that final comment from the towering man, certainly something that Yasin hears and observes, even if not something he understands.
At the dismissive gesture, though, he doesn't object. He offers a quiet, "Thank you, Goodman," before giving Ziyad a look, an heading out the door, back from whence they came.
(GM): OOC: The scene fades to black.