ArchivedLogs:Associates

Associates
Dramatis Personae Dan, Razor
In Absentia	2013-05-02 Dan makes some new associates.
Location <NYC> Baohaus - Chinatown
Despite its unlikely name, this restaurant dishes up some of the best hot pot in Chinatown. A great place to go with friends, come pick a broth, pick ingredients, and enjoy the Chinese version of fondue, cooking meals yourself in the steaming soup. And, of course, don't miss the signature buns the place is named for! She looks too damned tiny to upset or scare anyone, but if her moneyman and underboss Serano is any indication, appearances can be deceiving. There are murmurs that she's a dangerous woman to cross, and her subordinates certainly seem to think so if the way the goons watch her play with her smartphone is any indication. "Them birds... why the fuck they so angry all the time? They're smarter 'n the pigs." Razor reaches for a cup of tea, not really expecting anyone to respond to her. With the light falling on the day, they're not far from packing it in. The figure that comes through the door doesn't look much different from the goons, honestly. Jeans, leather jacket, blue plaid shirt underneath -- Dan looks very much at home when he pushes through the door of the Baohaus and casts his gaze around the room. His gaze flicks over the goons surrounding the tiny girl with the smartphone, and his eyebrows raises slightly at the sight of the man sitting closest to her. The one who looks the least nervous. He waves off a hostess when she approaches with a grunt. "Tea. Iced. No lemon." That seems to be all he has to say, as he begins making his way towards the girl, his attention on the man to her right. "Well, if there's ever anyone sitting on their ass and doing shit-all," he rumbles at the man, "you can be sure it's a fucking Toole." He's actually got a grin for the other man, although it's more of a tipped line across the lower half of his face. "Look fuck-face, ain't been a good day so if you wanna keep your face inta-" This is Toole who didn't, at first, look up when there's someone talking to him. As he does, his voice cuts off, looking at first surprised, then vaguely pleased, and then worried. He hops up from his seat, to put a hand on Dan's shoulder,"Keeeee-rist Rourke. Not while the boss is around... Shit." Only now does Razor look up from her smartphone. As usual, she's smiling, but it doesn't really reach her eyes,"Who's your friend, Dutch?" Toole reaches out to try to straighten and brush off Rourke's clothes for him, looking worried all over again,"Use your church voice, Rourke. I'm serious. Things is different since the boss took over." Then Dutch turns around and addresses Razor,"Miss O'Shaugnessy, this is an old friend, Danny Rourke." Razor wonders out loud,"Rourke, Rourke... why do I know that name?" Dan is clearly amused by his old friend's reaction, and his eyes crinkle as the man hops up, reaching out to return the shoulder-squeeze. "I'm just yanking your chain, man," he rumbles, and drops his hand, raising the other to rub a thumb along the scar under his left eye. "It's good to see you." The woman gets a little more attention, now that he's closer, and he nods when Dutch introduces them. "Miss O'Shaugnessy," he offers, smiling slightly. "It's good to meet you. Hope Dutch ain't givin' you too much shi -- er, trouble." He grins, and digs an elbow at his friend's ribs. The question gets a bit of a grimace. "Well, I called Dutch about meetin' with you, ma'am. He might have mentioned it." He grimaces more deeply. "Or, if you've gotten bus-- ah, lost in the Bronx, my brother Michael is a cop in the 52nd precinct." Razor looks mildly amused as she thrusts her smartphone at Rourke, and says,"Here, you beat this level. If you got a cop brother, then you know a thing or two about beatin' up pigs. Oink oink." She actually cackles at her own 'cleverness' and Toole laughs nervously. "Yeah Boss, remember... he's the... uh... the man you called 'piglet' when I was telling you about him back at the office." The woman leans back, and flips a straight razor from one of her shirt pockets, to begin cleaning her fingernails,"Right, so, Rourke.... What did you need...? Dutch gives me plenty of shit, but he's good enough at what he does that I like the money he brings me more than the desire to gut him." No telling if that was a joke or not. "Have a seat. WAITER! WE NEED A HOT POT FOR THIS GENTLEMAN. What brings you here, piglet?" Dan can't stop the bark of laughter that erupts when the woman mentions the nickname Dutch has leveled him with. He takes the smartphone, and shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at the other man. "One older brother busts one friend, and suddenly I'm a fuckin' Disney character." There's no heat in it, though, as he focuses on the screen. "Oh, yeah. The trick to this level is you don't use the green bird as a boomerang. You gotta..." he trails off as he focuses, sliding into the offered chair. Then he's flashing teeth briefly as he hands the phone back. "There ya go. Three stars and everything." He glances over his shoulder when the order is barked out, and manages to /not/ bump into the server with his iced tea. He takes it, and reaches over to snag two sugar packets from the box on the table. He's taking his sweet time (pardon the pun) about answering the question, rolling his neck as he taps the sugar packets against one finger. He might be noting the proximity of other customers; he might just have a crick in his neck. "I need to find out some information," he says. "About a thing. Thought maybe you might have heard something." Not /too/ vague. Razor grins as she receives the phone back, holding it up,"See boys, queen of management. I outsourced, and now I got three stars. This is the power of big business." She seems rather pleased, as her smile is actually reaching her eyes. Meanwhile, ignoring health regulations, she lights up a cigarette, then offers one to Rourke,"Well, you know... You're Toole's friend, an' that means something. You're irish, and that means somethin' else. But for all that, this is a business. So, you want something, I need something. You and I, we both profit. I tell you something I heard, you tell me something of equal value. Or maybe do ma favor. You know how it works." A waiter sets a 'hot pot' down with chunks of meat and vegetable to dip it in before Rourke. "That's fair, right?" Dan waves off the cigarette politely, pulling a cigar (slowly!) from a side pocket, and rolling it in his fingers. Maybe he's flavoring it with the steam from the hot pot, running his fingers along its length before he tucks it in his teeth, and pats his pockets for a match. He nods, once. "I wouldn't expect anything less, Miss O'Shaugnessy." Finding his box of matches, he pulls it out, and drops it on the table, tapping it with a 'do you mind' look at Razor. "From a fair-minded businesswoman such as yourself." Razor waves to the man dismissively,"Unless you're some strange sort of mutant, those things will kill you ten times faster than a cigarette." She chuckles after saying that. Razor doesn't really care if someone wants to accelerate their demise... She does it FOR people all the time. "Information, valuable information anyway, is hard to come by. Even moreso, the more you share it, the less valuable it becomes." She motions for Toole to shuffle away. The guy keeps an eye on Rourke, though. Razor, still smiling, murmurs,"Just so we're clear, your manner is a little over-familiar. Right now your value to Toole over there... is the only reason we're having a civilized conversation, if you catch my drift. He'll owe me separately for this. Don't push it." Dan snaps to at that gentle reminder, his brow furrowing. "Shit, I'm sorry, ma'am," he says, taking the cigar from his teeth and sliding it into his pocket. "I didn't mean any disrespect. It's been a long time." He ducks his head, focusing on the bowl in front of him for a moment. His fingers flex in the air, brushing against each other lightly. "What I'm askin' for...I don't know how valuable it'll turn out to be. I just want to find out what I can." He reaches back to scratch his neck; perhaps he feels Toole's eyes resting there. There's a thoughtful silence before he speaks again. "I might have ran into the Chinamen, a couple of nights ago," he says, using the colloquial term for the Triads. He wrinkles his nose. "They were lookin' for a kid. Been circulatin' flyers and shit." His gaze flicks up to Razor's face. "I figure you've heard about that, though. What I'm wonderin' is who else is lookin' for this kid. And what it's worth to /them/." "I've heard of the scramblin'. The Triads are after her. She's supposed to be 'their property'. So of course, every other... family in this city wants her. The thought is, she's somebody's kid. Somebody important or wealthy. So everyone's scrambling to get their hands on her so they can be the first ransom her back. Either to the Triads, or her parents. Smart money is on both. Why? You got a line on where she is? Might change the nature of this discussion a little bit more in your favor." She actually reaches for the guys pocket for his cigar... so she can light it for him. Suddenly, her eyes have a speculative look to them,"You a businessman, Dan? In that face of good business, many old slights and favors are forgiven. Two poeple profiting is better than one person fuckin' someone over, you know?" She reaches into her pocket for a flask and shakes it at the man,"Whoever gets ahold of her is gonna need to move quick." "Maybe," Dan grunts. "'Stricky, though." He accepts the cigar, leaning forward to allow Razor to touch fire to its end. He takes a long pull, exhaling the smoke through his nose like a dragon. "I just wanna do right by the kid. She's scared." He snorts, and looks at his cigar, rolling it in his fingers speculatively. "She should be." His eyes flick upward, and he wrinkles his nose. "I need to know /how/ quick. This shit's on my doorstep; I want to rinse it off before it begins to stink." Razor flicks something from her sleeve... A business card? It has a number, an email, and her name: Erin O'Shaugnessy, Union Consultant. She scribbles another phone number on the back of it. "I don't know where she is... But you hear anything, email me. You find her, you call that number on the back. You only say two things. The exact address, and the number of people you need. That's what you do. We'll consider the issue closed. I'll profit, don't get me wrong... But I won't hurt the kid, and I don't deal in human trafficking unlike the rest of the families." While she doesn't care one bit about hurting a kid, she is somewhat infamous for her distaste of human trafficking. "The triads are scum. If I had a bigger presence, I'd wipe them off at the doorstep like shit on my boots." She opens the flask, takes a sip, then offers the whiskey to the other man. "If you just wanna protect her though... Well, that's a big favor. You're a guard right? Things where you work ever... fall off the truck? The cameras ever 'malfunction'?" Dan listens carefully, his eyes narrowing as he considers what's being said. There's a few puffs on his cigar, and he tilts his head back to gaze at the ceiling as he exhales slowly. He takes the card, examining the information on the front and back before it disappears into an interior pocket. "Miss Shaugnessy," he rumbles, examining his cigar once again. "I'm a very resourceful man, when I need to be. If Dutch is loyal to you, and you're willing to help this kid out, I'm willing to lend that resourcefulness to your enterprise." Which is an answer in itself, really. He accepts the flask, tipping it to his lips for a quick pull before he hands it back. "Ma'am." Razor snaps her fingers, which is apparently a signal for her 'entourage' to rise at once,"Serano, pay the bill." An older looking man, an italian, rises to his feed and heads over to the cashier, to begin counting bills out of a large wad in his pocket. Razor rises to her feet, meanwhile,"You ain't... family. From now on, though, you can think of yourself as an associate of the O'Shaugnessy clan. Someone who ain't us hassles you, you pass that on to Toole. Since Toole vouched for you, you go directly to him with your needs. He'll let you know if we need something. This ain't a normal arrangement. Usually your contact would be someone lower on the ladder. You're Toole's problem now. Remember, this is a two way arrangement. We wanna get ours, but if someone hassles you, it looks bad on us too, so you gotta let us know. More verbose than she usually is,"We can have a couple of people on her until further notice, keeping a lookout. If we find her, we'll sort out her wishes on the subject, and tell everyone else to go fuck themselves." She tucks the flask away, finally. "That meet with your approval?" Dan rises with the rest, his lackey instincts propelling him to his feet before he's really aware he's risen. "Miss O'Shaugnessy, it's more than I came in here hoping for," he says honestly. "And I sincerely appreciate it. More than you know." He nods, and studies his cigar for a moment. "You should keep eyes on my building," he says. "Kid's safe enough where she is, but I don't need anyone bustin' in doors lookin'. Place is shithole enough without extra fuckin' bullet holes in the wall, y'know?" He dips his head, and offers a lopsided smile. "Thank you for your time, ma'am. You'll be hearin' from me soon." Razor nods and looks to Toole,"I want a handful of guys keeping watch outside of Rourke's place Figure out the logistics. Keep in touch with Rourke, wrangle some kind of profit out of it. Make sure they're armed. Anybody causes a ruckus or looks like they don't need to be there, take care of 'em." She turns to look at Dan,"Don't ever thank a person for a business arrangement. Especially 'cause more than one person's had cause to regret it. And don't lose that number. Someone comes in force or you need an escort, you're gonna wish you had it." Of course, she has her own plans... Some of which involves getting to gun down some Triads. "Stay safe. Luchii..." She points at a young, rat-faced man,"... will give you a ride home. Luchii, you watch the door of the place 'til Toole gets things sussed out. Take care of yourself Rourke. I hate losing money." In other words? She's now invested in the guy's health somewhat. She heads for the door. "I was thanking you for your time, ma'am. I know it's valuable." Dan's tone is respectful as he clarifies, and he steps back. His mouth tips to one side, and he pops his eyebrows briefly. "I don't wanna waste that /or/ your money." He nods at Luchii, puffing on his cigar as the woman makes her way out. When she and her men are gone, he turns to the rat-faced guy. "You might as well grab somethin' to go," he advises the kid. "Because the restaurants around my place are shit." That said, he heads for the door, shadowed by Luchii, and into the semi-shadowy underbelly of his new (old) life.