PRIVATE The Life of Business

Owner of The Parlour
Tag: @Ryan Graves
Location: A back room in The Parlour, Watson, NC

Business has started to boom more. Connections have begun to be made. Already there has been a web spun with my network. Ties with corpos, ties with netrunners, and ties with a fellow fixer. However, as one of the girls has brought a recent opportunity to my attention, it was time to get ties to those who carried guns for a living. One seemed to have stopped by the other day for a drink when one of my girls slipped him an invitation. The auditions for this gig had begun. I had a few other contacts that would come in handy for this. However, a team that could get much of the legwork taken care of was all I needed. Sadly, I am not dialed to every merc in this city. So, a bit more of a proactive approach was needed.

Ryan Graves seemed to my liking. He presented himself well after that invitation slip came in. So, when this news about an Arasaka defector came up through my ever expanding web, I figured he would like to size up the opportunity. It would be time to see what this merc's metal was on a more low stakes gig. Sure, it was neck deep in corpo politics, but after running some possibilities, it was just shallow enough waters for a quick getaway. However, getting the right people for the job was the part that would determine this for sure. Even if this job was easier in theory, a group of mooks would still lead to ruin. Looking into his past, Mr. Graves seemed good enough to coordinate the ground team. However, a few other contacts of mine would be kept in the loop as well for an insurance policy. Those being @Dmitri Antonov to handle keeping Militech sharks from following the blood trail of Arasaka, and @Omega as a netrunner to be at least an eye in the sky I could trust more than whoever Mr. Graves could find to help out. I would have to meet with those two at some other time.

This back room had more ears than my office. However, it would do nicely. It left everything to be known by me while also making it easier to manipulate events if everything went belly up. I sat comfortably, yet also a little bit in a sultry manner. Then, the solo of the hour came in. "Mr. Graves. Are you ready to get started with actual business, dearie?", I cooed from my seat as he entered from the one door.
 
Ryan stepped into the dimly lit back room, the soft hum of neon leaking through the edges of closed blinds. His boots scuffed against the polished floor as he adjusted the collar of his jacket. The air was heavy with the scent of cheap incense, layered over the faint metallic tang that always seemed to linger in Watson. The room was a stark contrast to the chaos outside, a cocoon of whispered schemes and carefully spun webs. His gaze swept the room, landing on the fixer lounging with calculated ease in their seat.

"Actual business?" Ryan said, his voice carrying a dry edge as he leaned casually against the doorframe. "Wasn't aware we were playing dress-up before."

He stepped further into the room, hands loose at his sides, keeping a careful eye on his surroundings. Fixers liked their games, but Ryan wasn't the type to walk into one blindfolded. His gaze flicked to the comms device subtly embedded in the table—clearly a precaution for surveillance or backup coordination. Smart.

"I appreciate invite, lookin' to score some eddies. Heard whispers about a gig with Corpo politics. Messy, always are. But I'm listening."

He pulled out a chair and spun it around, sitting astride it with the backrest against his chest. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the chair's frame as he locked eyes with Red.

"What's the play, Red? Extraction? Heist? Or are we babysitting somebody until their head stops looking like a prime target?"

Ryan's lips curled into a faint smirk, his tone measured but confident.

"Either way, I'm in. Just make sure your end of the bargain holds up. And if there's any fine print, now's the time to lay it out. I don't do surprises."



@Red Bulloch
 
Tag: @Ryan Graves
Location: A Back Room at The Parlour, Watson, NC

Sitting rather comfortably in my chair, I soaked in his willingness to get to work. For him, he would be an addition to the list of relations I had started to grow of allies who seem too good to be true. Yet, they still appeared and were real enough to get the work I needed them to do done. To be truthful, the new business ties I have been establishing have proven to be an array of people I liked. There were some I would not trust in levels well before if my life depended on it. However, they all were pretty likeable characters. That was enough for me to trust them with work, and to find enjoyment in their company.

With Mr. Graves, he was certainly the kind of merc I looked for. Seemed cool and collected when faced with things, was able to listen to details, and had a way of making sure our conversations weren't boring. He was certainly the kind of man I would look for to get the legwork of this job done. I would return his jest about dress up with, "You take jobs from a gal who runs a club called 'The Parlour' darling. Dress up shouldn't be a surprise to you." My face wore that of slight humor but primarily playfulness in general.


"Sounds like we got ourselves a deal in the making, honey.", I would say with a smirk of satisfaction (or at least the appearance of such). "I'm glad you did some homework, as that makes my part easier here. It's a heist, but nothing too crazy." I then would stop as one of the girls came in. "Darling, could you give Mr. Graves here a drink?", was what I would say to her before turning back to him, "Enjoy the hospitality."

As she would leave, and it was just us two again, "I assume that your research has allowed you to know what the situation is? Some Arasaka turnover?" While I wouldn't completely dodge his question, I needed to know how much I would need to tell him first. It wasn't that I was avoiding telling him things. Rather, it would be wasteful to tell him things he already knew. Also, stoking his ego a little bit couldn't hurt. After all, it has made many men in my experience quite agreeable.
 
The low hum of music, the dim lighting, and the slight haze of synth smoke gave the place a charm that was as much about business as it was about appearances. He shifted slightly, his jacket creaking faintly as he accepted the drink the girl brought over, nodding his thanks but keeping his focus on the fixer.

"Fair enough, thanks."

Taking a slow sip of his drink, Ryan let the warmth spread before setting the glass down. "You're right, wouldn't be here if I didn't do my homework," he said, his tone smooth and easy. "The client sent me deets from a burner shortly after you rang me up. I'm guessin' you made the connect. Something about some corpo turnover, an Arasaka defector who's been burning trails through Night City. Tied to a shipment that a lot of big names would kill for." He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees. "That the angle? Or is there more to it than what's floating in the air?"

His tone was casual, but his eyes were sharp, scanning for any tells in Red's expression. A job like this wasn't one to take lightly, even if it seemed manageable on the surface. And with Arasaka involved, he knew better than to assume anything was simple.

Ryan's smirk returned, this time a little sharper. "Since Arasaka and Militech aren't exactly ringing alarm bells, I'm gonna guess you got a sweet connection. Someone who got the inside before even the big boys found out they've been duped. You've got my attention, Red. Let's hear the play."



@Red Bulloch
 
Tag: @Ryan Graves
Location: A Back Room at The Parlour, Watson, NC

He was a merc of my own heart. He knew his stuff, and he knew how to show he knew his stuff. Perfection, indeed.


"Good! I told the client you'd be of potential interest. With your knowledge already, it appears I spoke of you correctly." I chided before sipping from my glass. "What you say about the big boys not knowing yet is true, darling. Time is of the essence. Make this fast, make this clean, and everybody walks away richer." A shimmer would go across my eyes accompanied by a satisfied looking smirk on my lips.

I would take another sip and lean back in the chair I was in. I let the semi-ornamental leg come into view through a slat in my dress. "Considering I have your interest, the plan is very simple. Very conventional. You, dearie, will put together a crew of people you trust and can pass my standards. You then intercept The goods at whichever point you deem can be the cleanest and easiest getaway. There will be a location for the to have the goods dropped off. Then, eddies get wired to us as a fair cut." I shuffled my posture, changing which side of the chair I was leaning on and putting the hand I had now resting on the chair's arm along the side of my face as I leaned back in the appearance of comfort. "I got a few friends to keep watch for the big boys too, darling. I am sure some supplementary help wouldn't be too objectionable?"
 
Ryan leaned back slightly, letting the cigarette smolder between his fingers as he listened. The Parlor's glow pulsed against the glass and chrome, casting long, shifting shadows across the room. The whole place smelled of aged whiskey, synth-smoke, and expensive cologne, the kind of joint where deals got made with a smile and a knife waiting under the table.

Red had a way of talking like the job was already a done deal, like she was just waiting for him to nod so the eddies could start flowing. He liked that kind of confidence. Usually. Right now, though? It put him on edge.

He rolled the cig between his fingers, watching the ember pulse. "Fast and clean," he echoed, smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. "Nice on paper. 'Til someone gets jittery, or some gonk with a superiority complex thinks they've got something to prove."

He let the words hang, flicking the ash away. Job itself wasn't complicated, lift a shipment from a corpo turncoat, make sure it didn't get to it's rendezvous point, drop it at the right spot, and get paid. Standard gig. But these things had a way of going sideways, especially when extra hands got thrown in without him knowing the play. Trust wasn't cheap in this city, and strangers weren't a currency he liked gambling with.

"Supplementary help, huh?" His tone was casual, but his eyes told a different story. If he didn't know them, he didn't trust them. And trust was the difference between walking away with full pockets or getting dumped in a landfill. He dragged another pull from the cig before stubbing it out, meeting Red's gaze.

"I'll put a crew together. People I know won't fold if the heat kicks up." He leaned forward slightly, voice dropping just a notch. "Send me the shipment details; routes, security, expected handlers."

Then he sat back again, a slow smirk curling up as he exhaled the last of the smoke. Graves rose from his seat, discarding the butt of his cig a ashtray beside him.

"And consider it done."



@Red Bulloch
 
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