Julian Marx was rarely taken by surprise.
He was one of those men. He knew where his phone was at all times, where his cars were, where his people were, his body guards were"even when he could not see them. He could tell you off the top of his head exactly how much money he made yesterday and how much of that he'd actually see and how much of it he would sink, quietly, into smaller businesses through ought Rhydin. Business and stores he believed would benefit Rhydin far more than people realized at the moment.
And yes. Business that, he was very sure that in a few weeks, months, or even years would double, triple and quadruple the pithy amount he'd invested. The number one rule to making money was to be able to spend it. If you couldn't stand to lose a little bit, then you'd never gain anything.
Remarkably, this was also a very good motto for life. But he wasn't thinking about motto making, or even how the business model worked for everyday life. He was thinking how this woman had found him, who had tipped her off and how she had managed to corner him so. That surprised him. None of these thoughts he let swim to the surface of his features, that would be, among several things: extremely rude as well as giving her insight to a man who was more private than private.
"Mister Marx! Mister Marx?" She dodged a waiter and cornered the man who sat with Addison. Addison, damn the man, for all intents and purposes looked positively amused. Not only had the press apparently caught wind of Julian here" They'd done it quicker than the years it took them to get around to it on earth. Julian gave him one sharp glance over the rim of his water glass as he set it down with finality, surrender to that which he could no longer escape and decided to ignore the growing smugness of his CEO.
Damn the man. Damn him all to?"Yes, may I help you?" Polite, cordial, those had always been the first words used to describe him.
He knew what the girl was after. It wasn't difficult to ascertain. Old fashioned spiral bound note pad with pencil, a large flat device that, to Julian, looked like a larger version of the phone Addison purchased him. Her suit was classic, a little rumpled after a day of chasing him down no doubt, but she still looked presentable. Not too much make up, not bare faced either. A laptop bag slung across her shoulder and her face warred with itself: relief for tracking down the story and a bit of that breathlessness the new ones always have before life and the stories they told made them bitter.
"Yes, sir, you sure can!" And she hustled over to the table the two men shared. She pressed a small button on the flat tablet in her hand and pointed it in the general direction of Julian. He and Addison dined within a very exclusive little restaurant within Rhydin that reminded Julian so much of his favorite from NYC, Menton. Addison must have realized this, and asked the man here to meet to discuss business. But"
"Mister Marx, earlier this month the Rhydin Post released in their business section an article about the alcohol situation in Rhydin."
Julian tilted his head a tiny bit in question, brows arising. The situation' Was there a situation' He had meant to asked her this when she steam-rolled on.
"Ben Matthews, founder and CEO of Shiny Greyish Sign or Target, a powerhouse behind several semi-popular brands here, had stated, 'There really is no point to refining the brewing process. For all those idiots know I could be selling nail polish remover. They'd still drink it all the same'
"He went on to state that, 'It's sad, really. What's the point of promoting a classy image if all you all are going to do is inhale it until you mistake the Red Dragon hearth for a toilet"'"
The young woman looked up from the device, finished reading the report and smiled blithely. "As the head behind Argento Luna wines, a relatively new company here purporting to cater to more refined, expensive tastes"what do you say to that Mister Marx?" And leaned so she could shove the recording device-pad-object even closer to Julian.
Addison, despite his very blas" attitude about all of this, who put an elbow up over the back of his chair and relaxed in his rumpled Armani suit"might as well have been rolling around on the ground.
Julian would kill him later. For now, he carefully refrained from looking at his second-in-command, turning the full brunt of mismatched eyes upon the girl. There were many men in this realm that pretended at presence. Very few of them carried the weight Julian Marx brought with him. It was both calming as well as unsettling the way he could settle a person with a look, zero in on them and make them feel as if the planet had entirely stopped spinning for them.
Julian's expression was one of great, careful thought, mouth drawn and brows gathered. "That is very unfortunate for him," he began.
Emboldened by his response she rushed in, "And why do you say that, Mister Marx?" "If a man or woman should believe his customer uncouth, uncultured and without class"then what sort of customer do they think they will attract?" smoothly continued as he set his folded napkin aside on the table. "Are you saying that Matthew's lowered expectations of his clientele and customers have reflected on who purchases his alcohol and what they do with it?"
Julian gave her a small smile. Instead of refuting or denying and giving her anything else to sink her claws into or twist about, he continued," One must not treat the man who spends his money on something you have made as anything less than the best," Julian firmly stated. "Even if he stands before you in tattered rags, he deserves no less.
"Should I like to know that my wines are being enjoyed, savored responsibly with the respect and care I have put behind each bottle?" Julian adjusted the dark gray Armani suit then shrugged. It possibly cost more than the building he sat in. "Of course I would. It would please me to no end.
"And that is the belief I have in those who purchase Argento Luna. My customers" I would never consider them in this fashion. They are people with very good taste; I know this, because they believe my wine good enough to purchase"to spend money on.
"Without them, without that belief, both in them and they with me, my product"I would have no business." He stood, tall and fit. Imposing if he wished to be but at this moment he was as ever, a gentleman. "Mister Matthews should attempt to remember that in the future about his own customers." Julian slanted a look across the table to the sprawling Addison, who reluctantly got his rumpled self out of the chair.
"Nelle botti piccine ci sta il vino buon," he finally said to the reporter once he turned away from Addison. If he noticed her swoon as the words rolled off his tongue, he made no indication.
"And that means?"
"In the small barrels you find the good wine," he told her. "Every business is only as good as its smallest customer.'" Julian gave her a little polite bow from the waist, buttoning up his coat tailored specifically for him. "I hope that I shall see you again. It has been an entirely enlightening conversation and interview. However, you must now forgive me, Miss, as I have business to attend. I shall leave any further questions you have in the capable hands of my CEO," Which of course, was Addison's cue to lay on the charm, hand out business cards and deal with the situation further.
That is of course, if Addison hadn't set the entire thing up anyway because his bodyguards wouldn't have let her step seven feet in his direction had they not been given the command to let her th"Damn that man.
Julian couldn't really blame anyone, of course. After all, he'd hired Addison personally all those years ago.
Suspiciously, there was something of a small smile on Julian's lips as he crossed to the front door and out. A glimpse through the window saw Addison place his hand in the small of the reporters back, and she lean to bat her lashes up at him.
The small smile before disappearing almost dived into a smirk.
Local Alcohol Merchants Give Up on Rhydin, with permission.]
He was one of those men. He knew where his phone was at all times, where his cars were, where his people were, his body guards were"even when he could not see them. He could tell you off the top of his head exactly how much money he made yesterday and how much of that he'd actually see and how much of it he would sink, quietly, into smaller businesses through ought Rhydin. Business and stores he believed would benefit Rhydin far more than people realized at the moment.
And yes. Business that, he was very sure that in a few weeks, months, or even years would double, triple and quadruple the pithy amount he'd invested. The number one rule to making money was to be able to spend it. If you couldn't stand to lose a little bit, then you'd never gain anything.
Remarkably, this was also a very good motto for life. But he wasn't thinking about motto making, or even how the business model worked for everyday life. He was thinking how this woman had found him, who had tipped her off and how she had managed to corner him so. That surprised him. None of these thoughts he let swim to the surface of his features, that would be, among several things: extremely rude as well as giving her insight to a man who was more private than private.
"Mister Marx! Mister Marx?" She dodged a waiter and cornered the man who sat with Addison. Addison, damn the man, for all intents and purposes looked positively amused. Not only had the press apparently caught wind of Julian here" They'd done it quicker than the years it took them to get around to it on earth. Julian gave him one sharp glance over the rim of his water glass as he set it down with finality, surrender to that which he could no longer escape and decided to ignore the growing smugness of his CEO.
Damn the man. Damn him all to?"Yes, may I help you?" Polite, cordial, those had always been the first words used to describe him.
He knew what the girl was after. It wasn't difficult to ascertain. Old fashioned spiral bound note pad with pencil, a large flat device that, to Julian, looked like a larger version of the phone Addison purchased him. Her suit was classic, a little rumpled after a day of chasing him down no doubt, but she still looked presentable. Not too much make up, not bare faced either. A laptop bag slung across her shoulder and her face warred with itself: relief for tracking down the story and a bit of that breathlessness the new ones always have before life and the stories they told made them bitter.
"Yes, sir, you sure can!" And she hustled over to the table the two men shared. She pressed a small button on the flat tablet in her hand and pointed it in the general direction of Julian. He and Addison dined within a very exclusive little restaurant within Rhydin that reminded Julian so much of his favorite from NYC, Menton. Addison must have realized this, and asked the man here to meet to discuss business. But"
"Mister Marx, earlier this month the Rhydin Post released in their business section an article about the alcohol situation in Rhydin."
Julian tilted his head a tiny bit in question, brows arising. The situation' Was there a situation' He had meant to asked her this when she steam-rolled on.
"Ben Matthews, founder and CEO of Shiny Greyish Sign or Target, a powerhouse behind several semi-popular brands here, had stated, 'There really is no point to refining the brewing process. For all those idiots know I could be selling nail polish remover. They'd still drink it all the same'
"He went on to state that, 'It's sad, really. What's the point of promoting a classy image if all you all are going to do is inhale it until you mistake the Red Dragon hearth for a toilet"'"
The young woman looked up from the device, finished reading the report and smiled blithely. "As the head behind Argento Luna wines, a relatively new company here purporting to cater to more refined, expensive tastes"what do you say to that Mister Marx?" And leaned so she could shove the recording device-pad-object even closer to Julian.
Addison, despite his very blas" attitude about all of this, who put an elbow up over the back of his chair and relaxed in his rumpled Armani suit"might as well have been rolling around on the ground.
Julian would kill him later. For now, he carefully refrained from looking at his second-in-command, turning the full brunt of mismatched eyes upon the girl. There were many men in this realm that pretended at presence. Very few of them carried the weight Julian Marx brought with him. It was both calming as well as unsettling the way he could settle a person with a look, zero in on them and make them feel as if the planet had entirely stopped spinning for them.
Julian's expression was one of great, careful thought, mouth drawn and brows gathered. "That is very unfortunate for him," he began.
Emboldened by his response she rushed in, "And why do you say that, Mister Marx?" "If a man or woman should believe his customer uncouth, uncultured and without class"then what sort of customer do they think they will attract?" smoothly continued as he set his folded napkin aside on the table. "Are you saying that Matthew's lowered expectations of his clientele and customers have reflected on who purchases his alcohol and what they do with it?"
Julian gave her a small smile. Instead of refuting or denying and giving her anything else to sink her claws into or twist about, he continued," One must not treat the man who spends his money on something you have made as anything less than the best," Julian firmly stated. "Even if he stands before you in tattered rags, he deserves no less.
"Should I like to know that my wines are being enjoyed, savored responsibly with the respect and care I have put behind each bottle?" Julian adjusted the dark gray Armani suit then shrugged. It possibly cost more than the building he sat in. "Of course I would. It would please me to no end.
"And that is the belief I have in those who purchase Argento Luna. My customers" I would never consider them in this fashion. They are people with very good taste; I know this, because they believe my wine good enough to purchase"to spend money on.
"Without them, without that belief, both in them and they with me, my product"I would have no business." He stood, tall and fit. Imposing if he wished to be but at this moment he was as ever, a gentleman. "Mister Matthews should attempt to remember that in the future about his own customers." Julian slanted a look across the table to the sprawling Addison, who reluctantly got his rumpled self out of the chair.
"Nelle botti piccine ci sta il vino buon," he finally said to the reporter once he turned away from Addison. If he noticed her swoon as the words rolled off his tongue, he made no indication.
"And that means?"
"In the small barrels you find the good wine," he told her. "Every business is only as good as its smallest customer.'" Julian gave her a little polite bow from the waist, buttoning up his coat tailored specifically for him. "I hope that I shall see you again. It has been an entirely enlightening conversation and interview. However, you must now forgive me, Miss, as I have business to attend. I shall leave any further questions you have in the capable hands of my CEO," Which of course, was Addison's cue to lay on the charm, hand out business cards and deal with the situation further.
That is of course, if Addison hadn't set the entire thing up anyway because his bodyguards wouldn't have let her step seven feet in his direction had they not been given the command to let her th"Damn that man.
Julian couldn't really blame anyone, of course. After all, he'd hired Addison personally all those years ago.
Suspiciously, there was something of a small smile on Julian's lips as he crossed to the front door and out. A glimpse through the window saw Addison place his hand in the small of the reporters back, and she lean to bat her lashes up at him.
The small smile before disappearing almost dived into a smirk.
Local Alcohol Merchants Give Up on Rhydin, with permission.]