La Salon Écarlate (The Scarlet Lounge)

Zaræn pushes his way into the club. Push is the most apt descriptor as he does not even take his hands out of his pockets. He is whistling a merry tune as he comes in and looks around curiously. Technically he shouldn't be in here just yet. The posted hours said it wouldn't open for another fifteen minutes. The room certainly lived up to the clubs name it was quite scarlet! With the right lightning it could ignite passion either intense or smoldering. Overall it was a nice place which made him curious as to why it wasn't more popular. Apparently it had opened a while ago and hadn't seen much business yet. Still he was angling to change that, or at the very least offer to help.

"Salute! Is anyone around?"

Zaræn returned Morrigan's look with one of his own. The man never felt ashamed when looking at a pretty woman. After all why should one feel ashamed of admiring a work of art? After he took his time admiring her he looks into her eyes. He grins at her then pulls out a purse of coin from his pocket. He tosses it from hand to hand and thinks on how to get to his question. Hmmmm the scenic route, he decides. Things are always so much more enjoyable when you take your time.

"Hmmm how can you help me? My name is Zaræn Viddik I own a local tavern. I suppose you could say I am here to scout out the competition. Or perhaps I am just here to enjoy being the one who is served, rather than the one serving. Tell me how is business? Also tell me how much for a drink?"

Zaræn places a hand to his heart at his her words.

"Ah Mademoiselle Siverlain you have cut me to the quick. To know that I have hindered your business so, yet be greeted with such magnanimity. Truly your generosity is matched only by your beauty. With such as you running this place it is a wonder it is not more successful."

He returns the flirtatious wink, with a side order of flattery. Zaræn was never one to be outdone at... well anything really. He made it a point to excel at whatever he tried and with style to boot. He saunters over to the bar and ponders what to order. Well time to put the bartender to the test.

"Well I hate to abuse generosity, but I have a specific drink in mind. If you can make a good one I will pay, if not I won't. Seems fair n'est–ce pas? Mix me a Carmella Hurricane."

The Carmella Hurricane was a notoriously difficult drink to mix. It involves several different liquors, pineapple juice, ice, and precision timing to make correctly. Most bartenders can't make it right and wind up with something more like a Carmella Light Rain Shower.

Zaræn watches the six armed man curiously. He couldn't say he approved, sure the man mixed the drink correctly. The display though wasn't very impressive to the trained eye. Zaræn could mix the drink with two arms and that took skill. This Laroche seemed inordinately proud of being able to mix the drink without such a handicap.

Zaræn swirls the drink for a moment then takes a sip. Perfectly serviceable, but lacking a certain je na sais quoi. Effort perhaps? Hrm perhaps he was being to hard on the man. After a moments thought he produces a gold coin. He makes it dance between his knuckles for a moment then sets it on the counter. He returns Morrigan's toast and throws his drink back. When he is done he grins and says with a laugh.

"Your bartender just provided me with the perfect analogy for why I am here. The drink was good! A normal person could not tell the difference between the one Laroche prepared and one made in my bar. I am not a normal person though. I can taste the difference! It comes down to effort Morrigan. There is something in the struggle, in over coming with skill, that adds to the experience."

He waves absently at the bartender.

"I do not begrudge your man his advantage. Yet I found the drink made with two exceptionally skilled hands, better than the one made with six. Perhaps because Laroche does not need to try as hard. Because of this I find the thought of losing my competition unappealing. The struggle makes things sweeter! Where is the fun in not having someone to contend with?"

Zaræn cocks an eyebrow at the little display. He hadn't expected Morrigan to fire the man. Of course had he been in her position he never would have hired him, so perhaps it was for the best. Instead of asking answering her right away he gets to his feet. He then turns around sits on the counter and swings his legs around. He pops up on the other side of the bar and begins to mix another drink.

Zaræn mixing is on half studious perfection and one half spectacle. Bottles are juggled from hand to hand and around his back. Measures are poured from precarious positions. He prepares a twist of lemon with a single continues cut. Even though it is done with flare the concentration is clear not on his face, but in his eyes. When he finishes he sets the drink in front of Morrigan. The drink is known as an Gauldish Twist, a mixture of three liquors, lemon juice, and fizzy water. It has a pleasant sour citrous taste that almost completely masks the high alcohol content.

"Without meaning to be rude mon-chere if I wanted to see you out of business, all I would need to do is... nothing. A handful of regulars isn't enough to keep a place like this afloat, not forever. Still you are right my purpose here is not completely magnanimous. The only thing better than competition is competition that isn't really competition. For example what if you added a few specialty drinks to the menu. Made from home brewed liquors people can't get anywhere else. That could bring in a few new customers n'est–ce pas?"

Zaræn gives Morrigan a look of mock hurt and surprise.

"Why such an underhanded business tactic! I am appalled you would suggest I'd be capable of such a thing. Though now that you have suggested it, I do have some new brews I haven't put up for sale yet. Perhaps if they had a home I could direct people to it. Maybe those young couples looking for something to do after their meals?"

As he speaks his grin turns sly. It was a rather good business situation. He offered something she didn't, she offered something he didn't. With a bit of work he could increase traffic to her club, give himself a bit of competition, and get even richer in the process. The best kind of deal in his opinion the kind where everyone wins.

Zaræn rolled across the counter top nimbly and comes to his feet. At her words he takes another appraising sweep of her body. His grin grows a bit broader and he says with a laugh.

"Mon-chere! I make pleasure my business and business my pleasure. I would relish the opportunity to... survey more of what the competition has to offer. Once most always scout out the enemy to make sure they make the right... moves."

He offers his hand for a shake. Once she accepts or declines he makes his way out. He was immensely pleased with the results of the meeting. It was rare to met someone who played the game so well. It had been a long time since he had tested his blade against such a... deserving opponent.

It had been a week or so since Morrigan had visited his bar. The first crate of liqueur had been delivered and he was curious to see how it had sold. He also carried a bottle under his arms of something new. This time he elected to arrive about an hour after opening time. Still a while before peak hours, but early enough to see how business was doing. He pushes open the door and is gratified to already see a few people inside already. He slides over to the bar and waves the bartender over.

"A glass of whatever is popular mon-ami!"

Zaræn cocks an eyebrow when the man guesses who is. Either he had a reputation or Morrigan was telling her staff about him. The bar owner watches as the man mixes his drink. Actual skill on display rather than reliance on a natural advantage. He takes the drink and sips. "Ah! Delicious." Zaræn toasts the bartender and ambles up the stairs slowly. Drink in one hand bottle of liqueur in the other. Perhaps he would find out who was singing, they sounded quite good.