| Board : | |
| Author : | |
| Subject : | |
| Date : | |
|
Her new boss held a tight monopoly on the underbelly of Western Chang'an - and with it, over half of the city's entertainment scene. There were rumors that his "Tusk Company" owned virtually every venue in the district - even extending to certain playgrounds for the odd child on his payroll. One such venue was the Appleseed Inn - a trendy tavern turned nightclub, as well as the company's main base of operations. As one would expect, its personnel consisted entirely of Tusk's subordinates - and now Brine, as well. Tonight was a Saturday night, which meant cabaret night. Several big names under Tusk's talent agency were expected to show. Between rigging the stage lights and arbitrarily scaring off passersby outside the club, Brine was mostly left to her own devices. Growing bored of watching the muscles of the crew at work, she took a seat at the bar - currently operated by a sole, fashionable bartender. "Urgh. How much for a shot of rum?" Brine murmured lazily, slouching across the bartop. "Uh, sorry. You can't drink on the job," the bartender replied in a soft timbre. "Need to wait a couple of tiers for that." "There's tiers to this thing?" Brine looked up with a confused scowl. The bartender simply blew a stray bang out of their eye while swishing a wet rag around in a glass - showing off their hand tattoo of a flower. "... You earn 'Tusk Points' by getting in his good graces, I guess. Doing stuff he likes. I'm in whatever tier's above yours 'cause I figured out his favorite sandwich..." "Uh-huh. How far up does it go?" Brine was currently rolling a grape from a fruit bowl between her fingers. The bartender didn't seem to care. "Well, there's the top one, which gets you your own private boutique and a complementary poodle. Although, that one's usually reserved for, y'know... 'business partners'." They rolled their eyes. "You basically have to be his new favorite squeeze to get any of the real perks in this club. It's kinda rough down here for the rest of us." The bartender shrugged with an apathetic pout. Brine mirrored the gesture, then finally ate her grape. "You're tellin' me, dude... Girl...? ... What the hell ARE you?" The bartender stared down blankly. Their name tag only read "Spritzer". "What's it matter? We're both too ugly for Tusk." "Erk--! HEY!..." Brine shot up in her seat, ready to throw fists. Mere seconds later, they were both cracking up. Moments like this made her situation more tolerable. The show was decent, too. Pretty people dancing under scorching red lights, singing songs for other pretty people. In an effort to blend in, Brine elected to watch from the crowd - casually drowning in a whirlpool of noise and gyrating bodies. There would be real work to do soon, but for now, all she cared about was getting her fix of fleeting distractions. And unfortunately, Tusk had it all down to a science. | |