leadιng мan

bal: i’m sexual

someone: yes but what kind

“A secondary location…?” There was something he hadn’t considered. Maybe because he figured he’d be running this particular location for the rest of his days. But that was an intriguing thought now that it was there and safe to say his friend now had his full attention.

Technically, it was true he had enough money hoarded saved that he could probably buy a better establishment than this. He just tended to hold onto it for obvious reasons; given his name. But the possibility he could invest a little and get a lot out of it… now that was persuasive. The possibility of trying drinks from other realities was just gravy. A lot of it too.

“Alright so what you’re sayin is you need a client and I need a supplier. That’s pretty convenient, since I have a little more scratch than I… technically need” he had a hard time letting that secret out “So my question is; you got a location in mind, or do I need to go shoppin or summat?”

Ah, there it was - the contemplation, the intrigue. Admittedly, he thrived off of it; getting people to consider new ideas along these lines was already a thrill. The potential for good business, with someone he knew he could trust? That was quite the bonus. So it was with a little flourish that Bal pulled a small flask out from ... somewhere in those many, overabundant pockets of his, offering it without comment.

He’d picked that particular little treat up from a pirate-run town on some distant world, some place called the Caribbean. Oh, what had it been called again ... he never could remember, but what a time that visit had been. He couldn’t remember half of it, which was always a good sign. “I already have a crate of that on my ship.” he finally said, shrugging once again as if doing so were entirely normal. Which, for him, it might as well be. “And I know several other sellers who would jump at this opportunity. We just need the right place for it to go.”

bal has become less of a pirate and more of an alcohol runner. his products are technically legal, if you ignore the fact he tends to sell them to people in other realities who haven’t the faintest idea where they come from

his ship always has at least one crate of dubious, high-tier alcohol in it that he’s planning on selling somewhere

He really hated to admit what a tempting thought that was. At the same time though Greed found himself sniffing a little and scratching the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah but you get those types in here and they’re gonna want the place spiffy and clean all the time too. And if they look at the staff the wrong way it’s all gonna go t’ hell.” He might still be protective over what remains of his crew as well, come to think of it.

“I see that look you got though. What scheme are ya gonna sell me today. Something worth a whole lot I hope?”

“Oh, I’m not saying to get rid of this atmosphere, not in the slightest.” Look at that, the grin’s growing. Clearly he had some thought on his mind and was close to voicing it, but instead of doing so the pirate leaned across the bar, lowering his voice. “I’m sure your current patrons would dislike the change, after all. But what I am suggesting ... hmm, how to phrase this.”

He paused, sipping on his drink idly whilst he let the words stew, and then shrugged. “Imagine, for a moment, if you saved some of the money you’re currently making and opened a secondary bar. Now imagine if that bar housed alcohol from various worlds, which doesn’t exist here. Now imagine that said alcohol earned a name for itself. You can price it however you want, can’t you? And there’s not a soul that would know the difference.”

He gestures vaguely. “First; I don’t even know where that is. Second; do I look like I got a discerning crowd here? They ain’t here for class they’re here for cheap booze and gambling.”

“Have you ever wondered why most places have that classy bullshit?” Bal asked, waving a hand idly; truth be told, he couldn’t care less for the quality of the drink, but he had a mischievous grin on his face now. “It’s so they draw in those discerning crowds. You find a drink that everyone’s excited to try, jack the price up significantly, and make a ridiculous amount of money. Bartenders back home have been using that trick for centuries, because it works. The rich and foolish will pay for a reputation over the actual product.”

“We only got one kind’a scotch here and you know it ain’t ‘good’.”