Post by Marko Iliev on Jul 19, 2012 21:32:24 GMT -5
Warehouse number 31 was not a particularly exciting location; with its rugged cast iron walls and ceiling and plain lighting, it was just another wide open undercover space that had various uses - construction, storage, the like. Sat between two other warehouses, it was really nothing special. Marko had originally made the purchase off-hand. He'd idealised the construction of a custom airship within its walls, but that plan never came to fruition. He had money, but not quite that much money. It became just another business to him, after that. Usually some oddball Inventor would want the space for a bigger project, and the income came from those rentals.
"Eighty Florins for the remainder of the week." He demanded loudly - loud enough so that the current tenant could hear over the consistent whirring and clunking of his machine.
The Inventor stopped the noise, adjusting the goggles over his eyes and leaning closer to the piece of metal he was working on to apparently fix a small detail. "Fifty." His answer was short and non-chalant; he didn't seem to care to listen.
"Eighty." Marko lowered his voice and narrowed his eyes, leaning against the rusted wall near to the warehouse doors.
"Fifty." The Inventor made a face like he was squinting beneath his goggles.
Fucking cheapskate Inventors. "Your time's up. Eighty, or you can pack up and leave now."
"I don't have eighty."
Marko did all he could not to hit his face with the palm of his hand. "Then pack up and leave!" He said in a slow, matter-of-fact tone. Was this guy ignorant, or was he just stupid?
"I'm not finished. I need another week, at the least."
The more the conversation dragged on, the more irritated he became. It carried on for at least another minute; all the while, the Inventor continued his ministrations, happy to ignore most of what Marko was saying over and over, until he finally lost it with him.
"Fifty, then!" He demanded, glowering. "Give me the fifty now, and give me the other thirty when you have it!"
"Oh. I don't have the fifty on me." The Inventor replied, and he begun to make a scraping noise with the tool in hand.
With an irate hiss, Marko kicked the base of the machine hard, causing the inside to clunk. That seemed to shake the apathetic Inventor, with a jolt, out of his focused mindset. "Go shove this fucking contraption up your ass!" He yelled, throwing his hands up, making a brisk turn on his heel and striding towards the doors. He needed some fresh air. And tobacco. And some alcohol would probably help, too.
"Eighty Florins for the remainder of the week." He demanded loudly - loud enough so that the current tenant could hear over the consistent whirring and clunking of his machine.
The Inventor stopped the noise, adjusting the goggles over his eyes and leaning closer to the piece of metal he was working on to apparently fix a small detail. "Fifty." His answer was short and non-chalant; he didn't seem to care to listen.
"Eighty." Marko lowered his voice and narrowed his eyes, leaning against the rusted wall near to the warehouse doors.
"Fifty." The Inventor made a face like he was squinting beneath his goggles.
Fucking cheapskate Inventors. "Your time's up. Eighty, or you can pack up and leave now."
"I don't have eighty."
Marko did all he could not to hit his face with the palm of his hand. "Then pack up and leave!" He said in a slow, matter-of-fact tone. Was this guy ignorant, or was he just stupid?
"I'm not finished. I need another week, at the least."
The more the conversation dragged on, the more irritated he became. It carried on for at least another minute; all the while, the Inventor continued his ministrations, happy to ignore most of what Marko was saying over and over, until he finally lost it with him.
"Fifty, then!" He demanded, glowering. "Give me the fifty now, and give me the other thirty when you have it!"
"Oh. I don't have the fifty on me." The Inventor replied, and he begun to make a scraping noise with the tool in hand.
With an irate hiss, Marko kicked the base of the machine hard, causing the inside to clunk. That seemed to shake the apathetic Inventor, with a jolt, out of his focused mindset. "Go shove this fucking contraption up your ass!" He yelled, throwing his hands up, making a brisk turn on his heel and striding towards the doors. He needed some fresh air. And tobacco. And some alcohol would probably help, too.