[color=f7941d]CELESTE BROWN[/color] - Sandy Coves Inn - Mid-morning (~11 AM)

"Go on, partner. I'm in no rush." The older gent crossed his arms and politely deferred to the larger, more gruff looking man. 

After the merchant had done his talk, the larger man added a brief: “As for me. The doctor in the clinic at the church asked for spare supplies. Anything from antiseptic to bandages and medicine.” He paused before adding “there's a heavily wounded woman who needs these supplies to avoid getting sick.” 

[i]Don't no one got any manners, left?[/i]  Celeste nodded as she understood what the man was saying.  The shrewd businessman blood in her veins began to show through.  "This doctor, he wants me to just give these supplies to him, for free?  Assuming I have them?"  She tapped her foot as the gears turned in her head.  "I mean, to be fair, it would be bad business practice for me to simply give away some of my supplies without [i]something[/i] in return.  I imagine the doctor is charging money for his services?"

There seemed to be an awkward pause in the room.  It was Frieda who spoke from behind her.

"Why don't you send me with the supplies, as your, uh, representative?  I'll bring him some linens and drugs but won't leave them unless he pays."

Celeste considered it.  It was the robot, Archie, that piped up, first.

"No need for that, Miss Frieda!  I represent the inn myself and could easily take on such a task with little fuss."

Frieda stepped between Celeste and the robot, holding up her hand.  "I absolutely [i]insist[/i].  Both of you have your hands full here, at the moment, and I'd be glad to help.  Give me what you're willing to spare, and your lowest price, and I'll negotiate something in between."

Celeste noticed a look between Brandy and Frieda but had no idea what it could mean.  She turned, instead, to the robot.  "I think that sounds okay?"

"As you wish, manager," the robot replied.  "Please, do follow me," he chimed at Frieda, spinning around and retreating through the door into the kitchen and towards the basement stairwell.  Frieda hastily followed.

The first man approached and nodded. "Ma'am," he began, reaching up for a hat that wasn't there. "Oh...this is embarrassing. Seems I left my cap back at the shed." He wiped his hands on his jeans.  "Sorry, was working on my fishing boat and I didn't wash my hands before I came into town." 

Celeste giggled in spite of herself, finding a particular charm in the man's awkward attempt at being polite.  "I've got a sink you can borrow, if you like."

He cleared his throat to continue. "Name's Adam Wilford, scavenger and merchant by trade....and a little side work in repair too." He put his hand to his side when he finished his introduction. "I'm not really one to beat around the bush, so I'll just come out and get to business. I heard your ol bed n' breakfast here ain't running yet. I was wondering if maybe you might be willing to let me look around for anything good. I will pay top shelf for it if you're willing to sell." He dug around in his pockets and found a worn leather pouch and muttered to himself, "Oops, that's the personal funds. Need the....business!" He found the blue pouch and put a bag of 500 caps out to her to count. "See? So you know I ain't some 'dine and dash' trader trying to rip you off." 

Celeste all but rubbed her eyes in her astonishment, hardly able to believe that the man in front of her had so casually pulled out such a sum of money and dangled it in front of her.  "I...well, that's...I mean..."

Adam put the pouch back in his jacket. "If not, that's alright. I'm overdue for a meal that ain't canned and cooked on a hotplate too if you're up for mealtime. Or both, really."

"O-oh!  No, not at all!"  She felt her cheeks begin to flush.  He had a certain rugged handsomeness about him that had caused her heart to beat just a little bit faster.  He was so calm about life in the wasteland, but also self-assured.  It was...stunning.  "Too bad you weren't here yesterday, Archie and I spent most of the day picking up and tossing out the junk, including the broken robots.  Most of it just got piled up behind the building.  But, you're welcome to take a look around, and I'm sure I can toss up something edible for you without a problem.  I've already made some coffee, if you'd like?"

Archie reappeared with Frieda, loaded up with some plain linens and what appeared to be a toolbox.  "Success, Manager Celeste!  I found about four plain bed sheets that were simply redundant and a spare first aid kit that's never been opened.  I do believe that should help the doctor with his conundrum, hmm?"

"How much do you want for it?" Frieda chirped, appearing uncomfortable but still holding her burden with little difficulty.

"I...ahh..."  Celeste was starting to have second thoughts about demanding money from the doctor, but she figured she should at least try.  "Ask for three hundred but you can go as low as one fifty.  Does that seem fair?"

"Well now, assuming these sheets would have helped service at least four beds in our establishment, at eight caps a night, three hundred and sixy five days in a year, a quick calculation comes to a loss of eleven thousand, six hundred and eighty caps.  Minus the three hundred you are charging for the supplies, that is."

Celeste furrowed her brow as she tried to think very hard upon how the robot even came to that number, let alone how much money eleven thousand caps even was.  "So...yes?"

Frieda spluttered a laugh.  "Do you want to sell the stuff, or not?"

Feeling annoyed, Celeste waved her hand and stomped past the tall blonde and the robot.  "Tell him three hundred caps and go from there."  With that, she retreated into the kitchen and began to bang around in an attempt to cook up a meal for Adam.






[color=00aeef]FRIEDA RICHTER[/color] - Sandy Coves Inn - Mid-morning

Brandy was far more kind and excited about the whole tour than she was.  Politely, she followed the two women as Celeste dragged them all through the decrepit, dusty, ruined building, gushing about things like running water and a working robot.  It made her deeply homesick.  Something within her wished she could laugh about the primitiveness of it all with her brother, the realization that she may never talk to him again hitting her like a punch in the gut.

[i]Hold it together, Richter.[/i]

They were led onto a balcony overlooking the dining hall.  Celeste and Brandy gabbed about its potential while Frieda just looked around, caught up in her own thoughts.  Eventually they had found themselves back in the foyer with visitors.  She leaned against the door frame and observed the scene in front of her.  She had all but tuned out the entire conversation until the large, brutish man spoke up.

"I mean, to be fair," Celeste was saying, "it would be bad business practice for me to simply give away some of my supplies without [i]something[/i] in return.  I imagine the doctor is charging money for his services?"

[i]The doctor![/i]  Frieda nearly fell over.  The man from the diner, the night before, with the soft demeanour and even softer looking skin.  This could be her chance to get him on his own and ask him some questions, namely, about his origin.  Part of her knew it would be a stretch to even hope he was from some pocket of Enclave she didn't know, and he could, perhaps, help her in her search for her brother.

Frieda quickly jumped in to the conversation.  "Why don't you send me with the supplies, as your, uh, representative?  I'll bring him some linens and drugs but won't leave them unless he pays."

"No need for that, Miss Frieda!  I represent the inn myself and could easily take on such a task with little fuss," the damn robot interjected matter of factly.

Frieda stepped between Celeste and the robot, holding up her hand.  "I absolutely [i]insist[/i].  Both of you have your hands full here, at the moment, and I'd be glad to help.  Give me what you're willing to spare, and your lowest price, and I'll negotiate something in between."  She truly hoped she sounded convincing.  Frieda caught Brandy's eyes and saw an odd expression cross her face, but did not otherwise respond.

Celeste turned to the robot.  "I think that sounds okay?"

"As you wish, manager," the robot replied.  "Please, do follow me," he chimed at Frieda, spinning around and retreating through the door into the kitchen and towards the basement stairwell.  Frieda hastily followed.

"Watch your step," the robot continued, effortlessly gliding over the stairs that were in an extreme state of disrepair.  Frieda, while quite physically fit, wouldn't have considered herself particularly agile and found herself trying to keep her balance desperately as she tip-toed down the stairs.

"This way," Archie turned abruptly, leading Frieda through a maze of shelves packed with an assortment of all things needed to host folks expecting the full range of hospitality.  Cleaning supplies, linens, robes, clothing, spare dishes, down to groundskeeping items such as rat poison and flower seeds, were jammed into ever nook and cranny.  Frieda marvelled at the supply, wondering how exactly so much had been acquired when the majority of the living world struggled with scarcity before the bombs fell.

"Here we are, Ms. Frieda."  The robot had in its arms a pile of bed sheets, neatly folded, though not freshly laundered.  They smelled starchy but also dusty.  At least they were clean.  

"Ah, great!" she replied, taking the linens from the robot's several arms.  "What about antiseptic and drugs?"

"What about them, indeed," Archie seemed to mutter, floating through the shelving and towards an opposite wall.  Frieda followed, though before she could find any of the items, the robot produced a sealed and pristine first aid kit.  "Would you look at that!" it gushed proudly, holding the kit up by its handle.  "Never once opened.  Can you believe that?  I wonder why it would have been left down here, like this."

"Because it was a spare?" Frieda answered, a thread of sarcasm in her voice.

"Oh, quite.  Perhaps."  Archie did not sound impressed with her response.  "Well, then, shall we return to the others?"

"Tell him three hundred caps and go from there," Celeste concluded tersely, following their return to the foyer and a discussion on price.

"Well, all right!"  Frieda looked at Brandy and smiled.  "See you later.  Why don't we meet at the diner for some dinner?  My treat."  She turned her attention back to the large man still loitering at the door.  "Shall we?"

They stepped back out into the sunshine.  Frieda plodded down the ruined roadways towards the church.  "I'm Frieda, by the way," she offered, hoping the man would offer her the same.

She nearly tripped walking into the church, not quite able to see over her stack of linens and stumbling upon some rubble.  Frieda looked around and immediately locked her attention upon the doctor.

[i]Well dressed, well groomed.  Definitely conditioned habits from somewhere much more disciplined than anywhere on the godforesaken surface.[/i]  "Hey there," she called in, holding up the linens, the first aid kit dangling by its handle in her right hand.  "Where do you want these?"

Frieda turned, keeping her grip on the items.  "No, please, let me carry them.  If you wouldn't mind showing me where to put them?"  She really wanted to have a moment with the doctor, beyond other eyes and ears.  "By the way, Celeste would like three hundred caps for the lot, if you've got it.  We can negotiate that privately, too."  She shifted her weight, hoping the didn't sound too obvious in her attempt to talk to the doctor one on one.