alisa_lebeau_v3 | The Art of Small Business

Entry tags:

The Art of Small Business

Alisa B. LeBeau sat in her the finely furnished loft/office she lived in. This part of owning a small business was a pain, waiting for a client to make a call or knock on the door. Of course she did herself no favors with being as blunt as she was with clients on the artwork they acquired. But it did give her a respect in the art world. She was one of the few authenticators who refused to sugar coat the obvious to the rich and famous, she told it as it is.

Her clients were wealthy and often referred to her by word of mouth. While most were furious at how she handled their "crises" with fake artwork or artifacts, they would eventually calm down and call her back to go with them to try and but legit artwork.

"If only dey contact me in de first place, I wouldn' 'ave a headache wit' all de stupidity dey t'row my way." She muttered to herself, leaning back in her chair with her legs propped up on her desk. Was it so hard for the wealthy to be logical?

Dressed in a white dress blouse, some pin stripped pants, and black stiletto high heels, Alisa gave out a yawn at her desk. All she could do for now is relax and hope someone contacts her today. Eventually some moron would call her or knock at her door. Eventually...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"The person in question is convinced she's purchased a Van Gogh. A very pretty Van Gogh. The problem is, I know this person, and I know all the people who privately own Van Goghs, and they wouldn't sell one to her." He picks up the glass, nodding to her as he seats himself. "Thank you.

Now, the issue is that I'm not enough of a collector, nor am I educated enough to make a call against her acquisition on grounds of authenticity. I need it made, very publicly, clear that she's gotten herself a fake."

"You could ruin my reputation in de art world, or gain me a lot o' clientele wit' such a stunt." She raised an eyebrow at him, taking a quick swig of her Bourbon. "So what am I gettin' for de risk I'm takin', Sir... an' I'm annoyed at callin' you "Sir". What de 'ell is your name, anyway? An' can you PLEASE for de love o' all dat's holy call off your femme guards. I don' like 'ow dey lookin' at me."

"Yes, it could. The end result all depends on how you comport yourself.

Girls, you can step outside. I think Ms Lebeau and I are coming to an understanding." He smiles, as they comply.

"My name is Alistaire Anton Shaw. Charmed, I'm sure." He extends a hand to her.

"Alisa Beatrice LeBeau, a pleasure, I assure you." Winking, she gave his hand a nice firm shake. "Now dat your bimbos are gone, let's talk price, shall we? I don' come cheap, you know. Especially wit' such a... risky venture, no? An' as much as I love a good t'rill or two, I still need to make a livin' at de end o' de day."

"Do this job, and you'll have your price, and your thrills." He leans back in his chair, resting his hands behind his head. "I'm a man of significant means, Miss LeBeau. Not Stark or Rand money, to be fair, but I get most things I want; and right now, I want you. More specifically, your services.

So let's talk numbers."

"Trust me, I know 'ow much money you Shaw’s got. Yer Grandpere used to... "ask" my family to go acquire some nice t'ings for him. He always paid dem well. He's probably de reason I was even able to get into college." Smirking, Alisa made her way to Alistaire, taking a seat in his lap. She was like a cat, not caring about others personal space at times.

"I may not 'ave known your first name, but your Grandpere's name an' legacy are hard to forget. My services are gonna run you five digits for wastin' my time wit' what could be pathetic pieces o' fake art. Now, if you want ME... I'm priceless."

"It is an exceptional piece of fake art. But they're still fake, and someone used fakes to get the better of me. For that, they pay, and to make that happen, five figures is perfectly reasonable. Low five figures." He says, seemingly unruffled by her in his lap.

He puts a hand on her back, smiling.

"Low five figures and a dinner in Maui."

Okay, maybe a little ruffled.

"Jus' 'cause we got some family history... you got yourself a deal, Alistaire. I can call you dat, oui?" She batted her eyelashes as his hand moved to her back. Her hands went to rest on his shoulders, those red on black eye slooking at him intently. "T'ough, perhaps we can arrange a contract deal if you find my work to your likin' ? Believe me when I tell you a contract wit' me would be worth EVERY penny, an' den some."

Perhaps it was his charm, or the idea of humiliating and angering the elite of New York that got her a little worked up. This idea was thrilling, and she so enjoyed the misery and anger of others. It made her mor epowerful and often out-weighed the risk to her job as an authenticator. But if she had a contract with Shaw, she would have some saftey net in case things went bad.

"A beautiful woman, particularly one in my lap, can always call me Alistaire." He grins coyly.

Alistaire's brain isn't spinning on quite so many levels. Wants unfulfilled. Means found. Wants satisfied. Repeat as necessary. Overall, however, this is a good day.

"Good. 'cause callin' you Mistah Shaw makes you sound old, which you obviously ain' ." Alisa made herself comfortable in his lap. "When is dis event you wish to hire me for? I'm plannin' on gettin' some ink done an' I need to plan de right time to you know... get it done."

It was true, after years of putting it off, Alisa was finally going to get herself inked with the Thieves's Guild ancient markings of a Guild Enforcer. She earned the right to wear the marking proudly, and damnit it she wanted what she earned.

"But I can always work around such a good lookin' man's schedule. It's not like de phones be ringin' off de hook here, anyway."

"They haven't announced their next party yet, but it shouldn't be long. Two or three weeks at the most. They're showing the painting off like a rapper with a new grill.

If you're interested in body art, I have an artist to recommend."

"Ohhh... one o' T'OSE kinds of people. Dis might be more satisfying for me den I t'ought. I'll knock off five t'ousand from your bill." Alisa chuckled. She hated the snooty types of people in society who believe they got something amazing, when in truth it was just a pile of shit. No reason Alistaire should pay full price if she is going to get some odd form of pleasure from knocking this person down a peg or two.

"You 'ave an artist to recommend?" This caused her eyebrows to raise. "YOU... 'ave ink? I would 'ave never suspected such. Please tell me dis artist is really good, an' won' mind doin' a very special full back tattoo. A one off. No other person can get it done, other den me."

He touches a finger to his eyebrow piercing. "I trust her very much, and she's an excellent artist. At least worth your time to speak with.

Yes, I have some. One piece is still unfinished."

"Dis may be de start o' a beautiful friendship." Alisa could not wipe the grin off her face, patting Alistaire's shoulders with some affection. "T'ankfully, I can take a whole lotta pain. 'cause de work I got done would make any normal MAN cry for mercy. As for piercin's... as hot as dey look on you, I tend to avoid dem. I only wear earrin's during business hours, after dat... well... gotta take'em out. Don' feel like losin' an ear or sumt'ing wit' what I do after hours."

"I don't entirely believe in friendship. It costs too much. I am a firm believer in beauty, however." He smiles at her, showing teeth.

"I think we have very different agendas for after hours. I have the occasional reason to take out my piercings, but I try to avoid such situations. That's what people... more inclined to danger are best suited to." He smiles, running his fingers up her spine and letting them rest on her neck.

"Oui, fake friendships do cost too much... but a good, loyal ally is worth it's price, no?" Alisa closed her eyes, almost giving off a moan as his fingers moved along her spine and up her neck. "When it comes to danger, I tend to like to run straight on towards it. Consider it a cheap t'rill. I got a borin' 'as 'ell job durin' de day. Need sumt'ing to make me feel alive."

Her lips leaned in a bit closer to Alistaire's. He was a terrible tease, but two can play at such a game. besides, she barely knows him, and something about rich boys who don't give a shit always led to the dangerous thrills she enjoyed.

"Were you really gonna slice my t'roat eariler?"

"Of course not.

Throat wounds spray too much. A simple femoral incision, or stab wound along the major tendons would have disabled you just as well. But I tend to avoid doing that sort of work on my own anyway." He smiles, and means every word.

"Besides. It would have been such an awful waste of a... business associate."

"Heh, not to mention a terrible waste o' steel." Her hands moved over his chest, and then into his pocket to take out the weapon he tried to threaten her with earlier. To make a point, she was going to try and stab herself square in the chest. This trick often scared debters to the Thieves Guild into paying, and hopefully this would scare Alistaire into NOT trying to pull weapons out on her, again.

Edited 2012-12-27 22:39 (UTC)

Alistaire gives an approving groan as he's handled, but his gaze snaps into focus as she winds up for the demonstration.

"That's an adamantium blade, Ms LeBeau. I'd advise you stop now, regardless of how tough you are.

"Rich boy's got some nice toys." She looked the blade over before putting it down on the side of the chair. "I doubt you would like to see a scar on my perfect chest. I know I would not." There was a somewhat sweet smile on her face as she made the point of pushing her chest up against his.

"I don' know what makes me like you more. De fact you got access to Adamantium, 'ow you wanna take people down a peg, de fact you are actually good lookin' , or dat I know you are dangerous as 'ell."

Alistaire takes the knife back, flipping it around and sheathing it safely again before putting it away. "I don't know about perfect, but I'm sure it's quite nice." He smiles, somewhat distracted by the top of conversation.

"Do you really have to pick?"

"Picking takes too much time, might as well like it all." She rolled her eyes at the fact he did not think her chest was perfect. Then again, it was confined in clothing. Maybe one day he'll get to see that. "T'ough I will say dis. I can do twice de job o' both o' your bimbo guards, an' last longer, too. My job before dis one required absolute loyalty, an' absolutle violence."

He obviously can't make a fair assessment with clothes in the way. "They're not bimbos, but they're paid very well to appear that they are. I don't pay them to sleep with me." He pauses, then smiles. "They do that for free. Would you care to find out why?" He smirks.

*The rest is continued in a NSFW post* Thank you for checking this sample RP!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The Art of Small Business

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject