She tilted her head, "Is the demand high enough to justify it, or testing the waters?"

"Truebloods love the stuff. They hate artificial sweeteners, and Zeppa's all natural. If we can find ourselves a nice cross-realms elvish diaspora, that'd be a real goldmine."

She looked thoughtful, "So we have a potential market."

"Yeah... Jesus, though." There was a headshake, "I've got a lotta other things on my plate right now - the new village at Noirmont, getting the gate there up and running, the normal strains of the coffee and spice import-export business... Jumpstarting Zeppa Soda's gonna take a lot of blood, sweat and tears, and I'm not sure I've got any to spare in the coming months."

"Delegate something or hire more people?" She shrugged a bit, "Or hold off until things clear up."

"Just don't know who to give it to." He turned towards the street with a pensive frown. Eyes tick a moment to watch the man from the inn go; he wonders to himself if the woman inside will follow.

"I couldn't begin to tell you that. I don't know anything of the resources." She trailed off.

"You ever do anything like this?" He said looking over his shoulder at Michiko.

She arched a brow, "Aside from fundraising and helping set-up shelters top to bottom?"

He grins. "Tell you what... If you do some work with our cross-realms analysts, find us a good market, and set up a manufacturing plant off-world - a sizeable one? We'll donate..." He paused to consider, ?Thirty-k silver to the charity of your choice."

She arched a brow, "Offering a job or a bribe to getting your venture off the ground?"

"Take it whichever way you like." He grinned. ?I just want this thing to take off. I don't want us barely inside the black on this thing anymore - I want a cross-realms trading boom."

"Rather work on the legit side. If it turns a decent profit, then will talk donations and such."

"Fair enough. The Noirmont gate will open up at least four realm connections, including Pyxis, one of Azjah's worlds, so that might be a good place to start... We got ourselves a deal?" Offering his hand to her.

She shook his hand, "I'll talk with Azjah about prospects."

"Good deal." He shakes hers and lets go, then kills his Zeppa. He sees a trash bin some twenty yards distant, takes aim for a long moment, then sinks it. That makes him grin. "All-right, I gotta get out of here... Stop by DeMuer Exports up in New Haven when you get a chance to get the briefing you'll need."

"Alright." She nodded with a chuckle. With that, he left the porch towards the left. Michiko settled on the swing sort of thunderstruck. She let the swing sway a little as she thought about the job that was just dropped in her lap.

Tru grins at Michiko as he stretched, ?It's a '49 Panhead Hydra-Glide.? It was midnight blue with celtic barbed designs in the paintjob, a ghost paint job, every piece original and meticulously cared for.

Michiko walked around the bike, appreciating the view with a low whistle. "Sweet. Custom work too. Very nice."

?You got a bike?? Tru said as he stepped to the bike.

Michiko was careful though. "Nope, it's bee a look but not touch thing."

Maranya nods to True and Michiko as she steps down the porch steps. ?Both of you, take care.? Flashing them a tired smile, she heads for her carriage.

?Good night, miss Maranya. Sleep well.? Tru said.

"Take care, doc." Michiko smiled.

?I will.? Maranya nods, and heads inside the carriage, with Ernesto's help. By the time it pulls away, she is fast asleep inside.

?How come?? Tru turned back to Michiko.

"Parental opposition more than anything else. Then I didn't realize there were any here."

?Parents? Even now? You certainly don't look like a kid.? Tru chuckles.

"Why thank you. They are no longer involved." Michiko was thinking though.

?Do you at least get to ride?? Tru asked.

"I haven't.. yet." Let?s not mention the Greyfast ride though.

?Oh wow, man.. that sucks.? Tru replied shaking his head.

"Eh, I'll do it, someday." She grinned.

?Well, if you got somewhere to go now, I can always give you a ride.?

"Yeah, Little Haven, DeMeur Exports." She smiled at Tru.

?You provide the directions, I will provide the ride.? Tru grins and straddles the bike, lifting it up and disarming the security before firing it up. A nice little roar started and then dwindled to a purr like a kitten being fed rich cream in a basket full of catnip.

She slips on the bike behind him, "West End."

?Ooohh.. going my way then.? Tru grins and wiggles his brows playfully and eases the bike into a nice cruise, headed toward his own home area.

Michiko was in luck... in a certain sense. Mr Aurene, a green-skinned (otherwise similar to a half-elf) being in a black and red tieless suit, was already engaged in hushed conversation with the receptionist, prodding a list of names and phone numbers with a long, slender finger, but he looked up at Michiko and smiled almost instantly. It was prefaced by something simultaneously curious and guarded, and it lingered in his eyes when he spoke to her. It was, simply, his way - and perhaps it made sense Alain DeMuer would hire someone who played his cards so close...

"Good afternoon... can I help you?" His head turned quizzically, and he clasped his hands at the small of his back, while the receptionist gave Michiko a more relaxed version of the Aurkindar's smile.

"Ah, of course... our soda. I'm afraid I haven't had much time to think about that project... Not sure I understand it, either. Anyway. I'm Dib Jaster Aurene, I run DeMuer Exports in Mister DeMuer's absence," he added with an offered hand, his thin smile turning to a grin that let his little tusks poke out over his upper lip. It was a look that made him appear... brutishly simple, but perhaps deceptively so.

"You, uh... have some ideas?" He gave the receptionist a swift, subtle nod, then waved Michiko on after him towards an elevator. It was an interesting thing based on existing models in RhyDin - lots of gears, powered by a 'spellbox.'

"Profits are good," the Aurk rumbled as the elevator clanked and hummed its way up. "Not excellent like the coffee, not great like the Zeppa... just... good." Clearly he was not satisfied with this state of affairs. "We don't care to expand the Mark brews beyond micro, because then they'll lose their local appeal, and it's... very beneficial to our local business connections with the, er, present arrangement."

The doors opened, and after allowing her to step out first, he took the lead towards his office. "Expansion is feasible, I think, but... Right now we only have the one Zeppa plant south of the Market. High sales among humans from the ages of twelve to twenty-five, and very strong also with elves, especially those that identify as 'Trueblood.' I have the figures here..."

Jaster stepped into his office and swept a folder off his desk, offering it to her. It was meticulously and efficiently organized, and she might later puzzle out he had put it together himself. "We have the money to commit to expansion, but with our marketing resources dedicated to identifying luxury markets for our coffee blends and finding new blends... and adapting to the Vrashne spice market... we haven't explored off-world markets, and until we identify other markets where Zeppa can perform above and beyond other mainstream sodas, we can't commit to building another plant..."

A smile curled his lips, almost sinister, certainly crafty. It was his way when he spoke of the intrigues of business. "...And Vrashne's wealthy princes have offered very lucrative deals to build a plant in their territory. They want to learn about our machine parts and have specialized craftsmen of their own. So... you see the pressure, and our dilemma."

Jaster shook his head as he took the opportunity to lean his delicately framed back against the edge of his desk. "No, no, not even the liiiiiit'lest bite. They like our plant because it won't bring the soot like the other factories they've had to shut down, and because it'll provide them with jobs, and maybe make certain princely states into industrial powers... but they're only really curious about coffee. Don't give much a damn about more than tea. Attractive for a factory, not for sales... but, eh, off-realm transport's no big thing."

He cleared his throat, as if the descent into layman's terms was no more than an issue of congestion -- or maybe the sudden pretense that preceded it all. "Anyway. We've got some of the preliminary data you'll need in there, but until we get some good off-realm trade deals going for Zeppa... well, expansion's gonna have to wait for that." He nodded crisply, then.

"Cool?"

"Just crisp, refreshing, all-natural lemon-lime soda," Jaster said to her with a long-lipped sweet smile. "...So, ah... no other flavors, at this time, but if we can expand, we'll take other varieties into consideration. Got a couple mock-ups for a cola with the same organic bent, but until Zeppa turns itself into a real cash cow, the whole thing's," he waved a hand back and forth, there, "pure fancy.

"Advertising budget? Just send the bills our way, and if it's things like surveys, samples, fliers, even a few radio ads, we'll probably rubber-stamp it. Start getting into big TV and 'net ads -- " He jerked his head, clicked his tongue. "Nuh-uh. No way. Can't convince the immortal corporate 'powers that be' that it's worth their while."

He stopped, suddenly, and cackled. "Powers that be..." The green man shook his head.