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It's not far from Calamity's home that they share with the gang. Right inside Bristol & Fairhill turf. Calamity is walking home, probably after running an errand for the guys--or just out wandering. Who knows. It's late though--the middle of the night, the streets mostly empty.
So its likely very unnerving when a fancy as fuck black car pulls up onto the sidewalk just in front of them. A man wearing a black suit slides out from the driver's seat. He's tall, broad, and very much thuggish, and is definitely approaching Calamity.
Calamity's pulled their bandanna down to have a cigarette as they walk, lighting their face up just slightly. Just enough to see their pale eyes go wide as the man gets out of the car. They take a few steps backward, stumbling slightly.
And then they remember that this is their turf. And they stop, frowning to try to hide their fear.
The goon is moving pretty purposely towards Calamity, but there's no visible weapons and while a naturally intimidating guy, his body language isn't particularly aggressive.
"Mx. Calamity, right?" the man asks in a gruff voice.
"...Who the fuck's asking?" They take the cigarette from their mouth and raise an eyebrow, and cross their arms.
"Mr. Dubois would like to speak to you regarding a business offer," the man replies patiently.
"...Dubois?" Calamity's eyebrows go all the way up. They shift from foot to foot, eyeing the man, and the car, take a few steps to the side to put their cigarette out on the brick building that lines this block.
"Why?"
"As I said. He wishes to make you an offer."
Calamity narrows their eyes. "He in the car?"
"Yes. Will you follow me?"
"Wanna see him. Not goin fuckin anywhere 'less I can him. Or 'least talk to him on the phone, or something." They pull a battered cigarette pack from their pocket and shove the half-smoked cigarette back in, and then crosses their arms again.
The man lifts his chin in acknowledgement, then steps back to the car, opening the back seat door. He leans down to murmur to someone within, and the man straightens and gestures to the open door for Calamity to look inside.
They trot forward, still keeping a safe distance from the man. Bodyguard? Hitman? Who the fuck ever. And they keep a safe distance from the car itself. Clearly they're worried about being taken.
No one grabs them to shove them inside. When Calamity peers into the back of the seat, the find that the very luxurious car is, indeed, occupied. Simon is sitting on the other side of the car, legs crossed. Dressed in a very nice, custom tailored suit in dark cloth. No glasses tonight. He gives Calamity a Look as they peer inside--impatient and expectant.
"I am not willing to wait all night, Mx. Calamity," Simon says from where he's sitting.
"..." Calamity blinks, obviously surprised. And takes one last look at the other man before clambering into the back seat, not graceful at all. They look around the car interior for a few seconds before their gaze settles back on Simon. A little nervous, but openly appraising, too.
The man closes the door once Calamity climbs in, then moves around to the driver's seat--getting inside, buckling up, then puts the car into drive to... start driving off.
Simon keeps his eyes on Calamity, waiting for him to settle and maybe taking an extra few seconds to just... watch them with that unnerving, sharp stare of his.
Finally he reaches to press a button in the compartment between them, which makes... a fucking stocked mini bar/fridge pop up, with a few bottles inside. "Would you like a drink?"
A flicker of fear crosses Calamity's face when the car starts to move, and they fix Simon with a piercing look right back. "Where're we going."
"No where in particular," Simon replies, unconcerned. He pulls out a bottle of whiskey and a polished glass, pouring a shot's worth into it. He continues as if Calamity wasn't practically panicking. "I've heard you're quite skilled as a courier. I'd like to hire you."
"...Okay?" They can't seem to decide where to look, their gaze flicking between the windows, trying to follow the streets, and Simon. And the fridge and mini bar. The free drinks eventually win them over.
"What's in it for me?" Asking the important questions, clearly, as they inspect the drink offerings.
There's a variety there--all hard liquor. Sake, whiskey, rum, vodka. All very expensive, all smooth and--if you like liquor--very good.
"Are you not interested in money?" he asks with a perk of his brow.
"'Course I am - not everyone pays in money." A shrug, and Calamity grabs the vodka. And the bottle of fuckin pomegranate juice, because of course there's fancy juice. After a little bit of juggling of bottles and glasses they manage to pour themself a drink, though it's clear they're not used to doing this in a moving car.
"Figured money's not something you talk about." They grimace slightly as they drink, and shrug.
"Not the only thing I talk about," Simon replies, taking a sip. "But I'm willing to pay well for your work. But if you prefer some other means of payment, that could perhaps be arranged."
"Nah, cash's fine with me." Calamity flashes him a wicked grin. "Easiest. So what am I doin'?"
"Deliver messages and packages for me, as needed." He leans back into his seat. "More or less what you are doing now. I would also be paying you for your discretion. As well as any useful information you manage to overhear while making those deliveries."
Calamity sips their drink, nodding thoughtfully. "...So same thing I'm doin' now. I - 's not gonna get in the way of the shit I do with the guys, is it? Like...how much do I gotta hide any of this from 'em?"
"As I said... I would be paying for your discretion," Simon replies. The answer is clear--Calamity wouldn't involve their gang at all. "But I don't anticipate it coming between you and your little gang, no."
There's a few long moments, where Calamity thinks, and drinks. But then they nod. "I'll make it work. Not gonna rat on B & F, though. Not for nothin'."
But everyone can be bought, right?
He considers Calamity for a long moment, but says nothing.
Indeed, everyone can be bought. But right now, there's no need. Better to give Calamity a taste of what could be offered, first.
"I'm willing to offer you one thousand dollars a week, for you to be on call. I don't anticipate needing you more than a few times a week, but I might need you to deliver something unexpectedly, at odd hours." He takes another sip as he watches Calamity's reaction.
"A week?" Calamity jerks forward, spilling some of their drink on their lap and the floor of the car. They eye him with a little suspicion. "...What happens if I change my mind?"
"Our agreement ends immediately," he replies, watching him with a more narrowed gaze. "And you keep quiet about everything you've seen or heard while working for me." There is... a not-very-subtle or else there.
"...Why're you payin' me so much for this shit? 'S a lot for...doesn't seem like a lotta work."
"Do you feel your skills are not worth paying well for? Perhaps I have misjudged you," he replies icily.
"Somethin' sounds too good to be true, usually is," Calamity fires right back.
He tsks softly, picking up the bottle to refill his glass. "There is one thing more important than money, Mx. Calamity: Information. You are quite good at sneaking around and being unnoticed when you choose to be, are you not? You are young, seemingly harmless, and you know these streets. You are already affiliated with a gang and established as a courier--people will not ask very many questions if you are somewhere you are not supposed to be. I want information. Delivering messages is merely an excuse for you to be my eyes and ears on the street. I expect you to deliver me information regularly."
"There is one other thing that I may ask you to do," Simon says, looking at them. "But you are free to refuse, if you choose, on a case by case basis. I will pay you a bonus of five hundred dollars every time you successfully steal a sample of hair from a target I give you. The bonus will increase if getting the sample requires increased risk, of course."
Calamity warms under Simon's praise, and actually smiles at him while they sip their drink. "Information I can do, yeah, sure." The smile fades as he keeps talking.
"...Hair? What sorta freak shit...?" Their eyebrows come together as they frown.
"Yes. Hair. Or some other sample--fingernails and blood also works, but hair tends to be the easiest to come by." Simon doesn't look remotely disturbed by talking about this.
"What the fuck why?" Calamity looks a little disgusted, but it doesn't put them off their drink at all.
"That's not necessary for you to know." His voice is curt and sharp.
"...Yeah, prob'ly not gonna do that." A beat, as they consider. "'Less it's really fuckin easy."
"That is your choice to make," Simon replies, though there's a distinct note of judgement in his voice. So disappointed.
"Look, 's just fucking weird." There's more than a hint of defensiveness in their voice. "'Specially 'cause you won't tell me why."
"The world is a weird place, Mx. Calamity." He reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out... a wad of cash. One thousand dollars, which he offers over. "I assume you prefer to be paid in cash."
Hoo boy. Calamity's eyes go wide, and their mouth opens just a little before they remember themself and close it again., They snatch it from his hands, and take a second to flip through it, eyeing him a little like they're worried he's gonna take it back. "Cash's best, yeah. Small bills're better." They shove it in the pocket of their hoodie. "You prob'y want my number, or something, right?"
"Yes." He pulls out his own shiny expensive phone.
They pull out a kinda beat up looking smartphone and look at him expectantly, and drain the last of their drink while they wait.
Simon pauses to eye Calamity's phone for a moment. "Perhaps you should invest that money in a new phone," he says, before saving the number. "You will usually be dealing with my assistant, Wayne. He speaks with my authority, and any order given by him is given by me." He gestures to the bodyguard assistant in the driver's seat.
"Lotta things I could invest in." Calamity rolls their eyes and puts their phone away again. "Wanye? Sure. You gonna let me out, now?" They glance out the window, then back at Simon. "Or is there more shit you wanna keep me here for?"
He eyes Calamity a moment, then gestures lightly. A second later the car slows and pulls over to the curb.
"Lookin' forward to working with you," Calamity says with a grin, in a clear mockery of formality, and goes to open the door to leave. Assuming they're not locked in.
The door's locks click as the car parks--unlocking to let them out.
"I, as well," Simon replies, watching them clamber out.
"See ya, Mister Dubois." They hold up a hand in a small wave once they're out of the car, and flash him a grin before trotting off down the street.
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