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1 BR West End apt (IC)


Heritage

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Sam bites her lip at Lynn's display, and averts her eyes, if only slightly, but doesn't let herself be deterred.

She might peek once or twice, though.

"But before we make that final," she begins, trying to play down Tona's overwillingness to comply and keeping her voice firm. "Ten an hour for one. Four hundred a month for the other. For twenty hours of work a week. Meaning over eighty hours of work a month. Which makes for less than five bucks an hour. Less than minimum wage.

"Plus, there are other concerns. If it's pay in rent, that leaves room for uncompensated overtime when her shifts top those twenty hours. I say halved rent and five an hour, going to ten an hour when they go over twenty hours' work in a week, for each of them. If they both choose to work for you, that means no rent.

"However," she continues. "The way you say it, sounds like you're looking for someone to fill in the gaps in the work schedule. Which means they'd have last pick on hours, which gets in the way of scheduling classes. That is worth a little extra. Then, there are the... 'details' of the books you sell." She lets that last part trail, only hinting at what she sensed down below.

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Tona's hand snapped up and she stepped to the side, moving gracefully out of the path of the tennis ball even as she snatched it out of the air. She raised an eyebrow and waited for an opening in Sam's monlogue, examining the ball as she did so. Squishy an green, with tiny hairs all over it... She would never get the appeal of throwing them back and forth. Though they were pretty bouncy, and as such made good practice targets.

Ah, there it was. Sam had taken her 'now-it's-time-for-you-to-agree-with-me' breath and there was a bit of quiet. Tona grinned devilishly, and stood on one foot as her arm made a complete revolution, fastballing the tennis ball straight back at Lynn.

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Lynn had stood there juggling, watching with her mouth slightly open as Sam had gone into full 'plea bargain' mode; she studied the woman intently, her eyes searching her features for some clue as to her origins.

 

What is with this girl?

 

When she finally finished, the bookseller paused to easily work the ball back into her juggling, then she allowed the balls to drop to the floor as she took an angry step towards Kit.

 

"Oh for God's sake, what is your problem? I'm trying to help you out, and I'm bad at math, okay? That's all that's going on here! I'm not trying to screw anyone over or work a scam or anything like that! What are you, pre-law or business management?" She kicked one of the balls across the room, where it bounced of the walls a few times before rolling to a stop. Lynn stood there seething, with her hands on her hips, until she turned around to face the redhead once more. "And what, do you think I'm selling porn or something? I sell books, okay? All kinds of books."

 

Then she took a step towards her; not exactly menacing but not very friendly, either.

 

"Now if you want to ask me a question, kid, then go ahead and ask it; I won't bull### you or be evasive or squirrelly." She folded her arms tightly across her chest. "Go on, ask me; I'm tired of playing games."

Edited by Heritage
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Sam stands her ground as the (slightly) larger woman bears down on her, unphased and defiant in the face of the incoming attitude. The swearing and railing glide right off her as she looks Lynn dead in the eye, and when she finishes, Sam drops three words in a perfect deadpan.

"I smell you."

Of course, that alone wouldn't make much sense, so she elaborates.

"You are being squirrelly. I can smell the Power oozing out of your every pore, the Power that binds those tennis balls together, the Power in that griffin statue." The way she says it, Lynn can hear the capital 'P' that can only refer to one thing. "And I felt the Power in your shop. Those aren't just dictionaries and novels on those shelves. That is real magic. And I bet your customers are all practitioners, too. When were you planning to mention that part? Were you planning on mentioning that part? Because I don't feel safe with my friend and my girlfriend going into a situation like that without at least knowing what they're getting into first!"

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Lynn didn't say anything for a few seconds; she just sort of looked at Sam and then the other two girls for a few seconds, her lips tightly sealed. But then she couldn't restrain herself anymore and busted out laughing.

 

"Oh my God, that's awesome! I'm being squirelly? Takes one to know one, Sam! Like you tell everyone you can do magic?" The ageless fae casually waved her hand towards an empty space on the floor and a tall wooden bookcase appeared. "Ta-daa! I didn't want to have to pay for more bookcases, kid! That's what you were smelling with your amazing magic-smelling nose!" She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. "And I keep all the scary stuff locked up in the back; for people in the trade only."

 

She crossed her arms and looked at all three of the girls again with genuine interest, all traces of hostility gone. "So did you all go to Claremont? I'm getting kind of a Claremont vibe off of you guys."

Edited by Heritage
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Tona felt the tension growing between Lynn and Sam and did what she did best; stayed quiet. If this was a fistfight, she wouldn't hesitate to step between them and break it up, but a war of words and numbers was outside her comfort zone. Of course if Sam kept pushing, it might just become a fistfight.

And then Lynn went off in another direction entirely. She eyed the magic display warily, having fought her share of demons and insane spellslingers, but Lynn seemed stable enough. And she apparently knew enough about Claremont to expect them to be different. She stepped forward and put a restraining hand on Sam's arm. "You went to Claremont?"

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Lynn snorted like the thought was patently absurd. "No! Well, actually I did do an undercover op there once that was kinda horrific; Never Been Kissed it was not." She shuddered dramatically. "Not one of my proudest moments.

 

The bookseller conjured up a comfortable high-backed leather chair and matching couch; she took a seat in the chair and indicated the couch with a wave of her hand as a bottle of orange Gatorade appeared in the other.

 

"So look, if you're looking to set up your own team or something, I can definitely be flexible on the rent, but I will need a larger security deposit; y'know, just in case." She took a big swig from the bottle, but nearly spat it back up as she suddenly remembered something. "Oh, and no guns! Pets are fine, but no guns; had enough of them in my previous life."

Edited by Heritage
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