#coolbean15

There are always a few fans who stick around. They linger, babbling on about their latest projects or how much of an inspiration Taako is to them, asking When will you be coming back, Taako? You’re coming back, right? Because I’ve got this recipe that I know I can perfect with just a little more time, and I’d love to get your input on it—

Taako waves them off with a vague response and a flashy wink, and eventually they dissipate, going their respective ways and leaving him on his own. It gives him ample time to breathe and come down from the euphoric high of the show, and in a way, it’s as much a ritual as it is sitting cross-legged on his bed and unlacing his braid. He values his rituals, as every star in demand does. That also means, in turn, that he doesn’t look favorably on anyone who disrupts them.

So the universe will understand if Taako turns a little sharply on his heel when he hears his name being called. And there he is. Average height, average build, all-around average look. The sort of person who could deflect a spotlight if it shone directly on him. Taako looks him up and down; takes him in with a subtle curl to his lip, and says, “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, yeah—” He has a nice enough smile, Taako supposes. It won’t stop a show in its tracks but, like the rest of him, it’s just enough to suffice. “I just wanted to, uh, compliment you on this whole operation. Seems like a lot to hold down, and, uh—oh, I’m Sazed, by the way.” With that same smile, just edging past mediocre, Sazed sticks out a hand.

Oh, well. He can be on for another minute or so. “Enchanté,” says Taako, easily shifting his sneer into a smile, and takes Sazed’s hand. The palm is rough and calloused against his, which shines comparatively with sealed-up scars and the odd superficial burn. “I appreciate it, my man. Takes a lot of work to maintain this—this little establishment. You must have an eye for entrepreneur… ism.”

“Oh, I do. Definitely. I just think it’s, it’s crazy how you’ve got this going all by yourself, and…” Sazed shifts his weight, and Taako has to bite back a groan, because he knows what’s coming. He’s seen it too many times before from the hopefuls in self-stitched chef’s hats and clutching Taako™ merchandise to their chests. Still, he keeps a smile plastered to his face as Sazed goes on. “That’s actually why I came up to talk to you. I had a proposition for you.”

“Well, gee,” Taako purrs, tilting his head to conceal a compulsory eye roll. “At least take me out to dinner first, huh?”

Sazed steps back like he’s been burned. “What? I meant—I was talking about a business proposition, not—”

So he’s decent, at least. This actually has the potential to be fun, and it’s been ages since he’s had a night out without having to scrape for the coin. Taako’s smile sharpens into a smirk. “I was kidding, kemosabe. Just cool your jets, alright? Tell you what.” He strips off his jacket, dusting off the blouse and slacks underneath, and tosses it into the back of the stagecoach. “I’ve got this venue rented out for the night, so what say you and I go somewhere warm, and you can give me your pitch? Break the ice with a couple drinks, maybe? I’ll even let you pay.”

The last part is usually a hard sell, but Sazed looks as if someone’s just flicked on the sun behind his eyes. “That… sounds great, Taako. Thank you so much. And I’d love to hear more about the show and how it works, y’know? Just for, uh, just for the proposition’s sake?”

One of his fans is asking him to talk his ear off, and he’s getting free drinks out of it, nonetheless. Taako can scarcely believe his luck. “Oh, if you insist,” he drawls, and flips a scarf over his shoulder. “Let’s hit the town, Sazed.”

Here’s the other thing: Sazed is nice.

It’s the kind of personality that prompts a Yes, and?; that begs complexity, that challenges depth. But as near as Taako can tell, Sazed is just—nice. He has a story so mundane it could have been used for a fill-in-the-blank: boring childhood, moderate education, parents retired in some beachside tourist trap. Thankfully, Taako only has to swallow a couple yawns before the conversation turns to him, and then he doesn’t have to fake enthusiasm. He goes on about his inspiration (Fantasy The Kitchen), his brand (“The name of the game,” he says, “is name recognition,” and Sazed chuckles), how he handles the crowds (gracefully, and with poise). The topic of his cooking is carefully skirted, as Taako isn’t big on giving away trade secrets, even to the guy who’s buying him alcohol. But Sazed is a good listener, as all lukewarm personalities demand.

It’s not just that. He’s open about his adoration. This man idolizes Taako and doesn’t try to hide it, not for Taako’s benefit or for his own pride. His honesty the one thing that sets him apart from the rest, and however much he smothers it with subtlety, Taako does love to be adored.

This is perhaps the only respect in which Sazed is interesting. It’s enough for him.

Once he’s feeling pleasantly buzzed, Taako drums his nails against the tabletop and fixes Sazed with his best dazzle-me stare. “So,” he says. “This proposition.”

Sazed looks like the proposition has been gnawing at him for the last hour, and he straightens up with a jolt at Taako’s question. “Right. Right. The proposition. Like I said, I really admire what you’ve got going on here. I think it’s brilliant, and I, uh…”

Taako preens. “Go on?”

“I’d like to get on board,” says Sazed.

Well. That’s disappointing.

Another way in which Sazed is exactly like everyone else who’s tried to get on his good side—he’s just trying to butter Taako up for a chance in the spotlight. Taako’s expression sours, and he takes a long sip of ale, wishing he’d asked for something stronger. Rejection never invites anything pretty. “Listen,” he interrupts, holding up a hand. “I’m sure you think you’re plenty talented, that you’ve got something special, whatever. But this is a one-man show, my dude. Only room for one standing up there behind that counter. And you might be good, sure, I’ll give you that, but I’ll tell it to you straight—you don’t have the panache for this sorta thing.”

Sazed blinks. He doesn’t even have a retort, which makes Taako want to down his entire drink right then and there. This guy isn’t really going to drag it out, is he? He’s not going to make Taako sit there and listen to every reason why he should work alongside him?

But in a second, he recovers, and says, “Oh, no. You got it wrong.”

Taako doesn’t appreciate being told he’s got it wrong, but he arches an eyebrow, giving his tentative permission to continue.

“I didn’t mean—I don’t want to be on the show,” Sazed stammers. “I agree, you’ve got the flash ’n everything down pat. I just thought you’d need a… I dunno, a roadie. Stagecoach driver. Right-hand man. Like, whatever it is you need, I can do it. I’m one of those jack-of-all-trades types, right? And—and I’m a fast learner, so if you ever need me to help out with food stuff—or not,” he adds, hurriedly, when the eyebrow starts to creep higher. “But I think I’d be a big help. And I’ll just take a small percentage of the profits for my salary. Nothing serious, nothing fancy, just… me, helping you out.”

Now that is a proposition.

“Tell me this,” says Taako. “Why ambush me after a show? Why not wait ‘til I held, I dunno, job interviews for this shit? Why approach me now and try to—” He waves the glass in Sazed’s direction. “Why try to bribe me with alcohol?”

Sazed turns a faint shade of pink and takes an impulsive sip of his own drink. “I wasn’t trying to bribe you. I approached you because I was trying to be enterprising. That’s all.”

Taako squints. He can’t tell if he’s crit failed or succeeded on his insight check, but there’s sincerity in Sazed’s voice. “Okay,” he relents. “Why me?”

This is the kicker. The be-all, end-all question. Sazed sits forward in his seat, folding his hands. “You’re an inspiration,” he says. “I’m sure you get that a lot, but I’m not trying to catch any of the light comin’ off you, y’know? I’m just looking to work for someone who clearly loves what he does, because that’s what makes the job worth it. I’ll get some of my own experience, and you can keep doing what you’re good at, and we both win. ’S like you said, Taako. Sizzle It Up is a one-man show, but I think you deserve a two-man operation.”

Maybe it’s the alcohol—it is, in all fairness, probably the alcohol—but Taako is rendered speechless for a good few seconds. “You know what?” he says, finally. “I like you, Sazed. I think we’re gonna get along.”

He holds his hand out, and Sazed’s gaze flicks down to it like he’s afraid to stare. “C’mon, my man,” says Taako. “You sold me. Once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Shake it or leave it.”

“Oh, shake it,” Sazed blurts, and then snorts at his own blunder, and grasps Taako’s hand. They shake, quick and firm, and then Taako snaps his fingers at the bartender. “Hey!” he calls. “Two more over here, okay? We’re celebrating!”

“Thank you so much,” says Sazed from over his shoulder. “I’m not gonna let you down, I promise—”

Taako retracts his hand and glances back at him. “Hey, fella? Less talkin’, more drinkin’, okay?”

With a tight smile of acknowledgment, Sazed nods and takes a swig of ale. That leaves Taako’s attention on the bartender, but he stalls as a waiter swings by and places a fiery-hued cocktail in front of him. And Taako’s all for free drinks, of course, but he’s not about to get charged for someone’s misplaced order. “Uh,” he starts, and then, “Um, excuse me? I think you got the wrong guy.”

The waiter pauses. “A gift from the gentleman at the end of the bar.” He bustles past, and Taako catches a tiefling with an equally vibrant cocktail staring in his direction. The tiefling’s lips curl up at the sides, and he lets his gaze drift languidly elsewhere, but he’s being about as subtle as a house on fire. Taako gives him a quick once-over and files that information away for later in the night.

He turns back and Sazed’s eyes immediately dart back to Taako. “Nice,” he says. “But, uh, you’re not really gonna drink that, right?”

Taako scoffs. “Why not? It’s free alcohol! You understand what free alcohol means, right? Alcohol? But for free? Sans prix?”

“Oh, y’know,” says Sazed, and rubs the back of his neck with an avoidant grin. “Don’t take drinks from strangers, right? Could be drugged or poisoned or somethin’.”

He’s so awkward that Taako can’t help but snicker. “Humor is really not your strong point, y’know that? Thanks for the heads-up, you’re a peach.” And then he drains half of the cocktail in one go, lifts his lips off the straw with a soft pop, and glances back at where the tiefling is sitting. Sure enough, he’s staring again. Taako grins.

The strains of a piano float overhead as he hops to his feet. “I’ll be right back, mkay? Stay right there and get yourself another round. Your treat. Or something.”

Sazed huffs with laughter and rolls his eyes and gives him a thumbs-up, and Taako spins on his heel and makes his way over to the bar. He could get used to this, he thinks. He could get used to having a right-hand man who’s at his beck and call, doing what he can’t be bothered to do himself, warming his seat and whatnot. With this man in his employ, he’s even more free to do whatever he wants—including shooting a flirtatious smile and a wave to the tiefling, who gets up with intrigue glowing faintly in his eyes.