Roleplay

"Thomas, can you just- yeah, thanks mate," Charles grunted as his friend assisted him in setting down a heavy crate on the wooden dock. He stood up and blew out a breath, wiping his rolled up sleeve across his forehead. He hadn't been working for too long, but he was already sweating hard. A large shipment had come in as they did every few weeks, and he and some other guys were assisting the crew in unloading their supplies. It was hard work, but Charles always said it was good for the soul, like his father taught him.

The streets were noticeably busier as London started to wake up, people bustling over the cobblestone to sell their wares, pick up supplies, and travel to and fro in a frenzy. Around this time, those who had to purchase their fabrics, foods, and merchandise across the seas would come down to the docks to receive their goods. Therefore, the docks were busier around this time of day than any other.

Charles waved at a group of ladies from a restaurant further downtown who came by to pick up, if he remembered correctly, a crate of fresh tomatoes and a few more crates of bread, corn, and other fresh vegetables and fruits. He knew most of the people who came down to pick stuff up, because he was friendly and loved to be so. He always made it his business to know people's names, what they were coming for, and where they were coming from. So when he saw a familiar figure cross onto the docks, lavender dress swinging, his face split into a grin.

"Isla! Good to see you," he said amiably as she approached, returning his smile and dipping her head towards him.

"Always a pleasure," she chuckled. "Got anything for me today? One of the ladies said there might be a shipment of silks in."

"I can't say I have," he said with a small shake of his head. "Might want to check with Jameson over there." He nodded in the direction of a tall man in a black overcoat holding some sheets of paper and shuffling through them with one hand. "He'll know if we've got anything today."

"Wonderful," said Isla, tying her shawl together in front of her sternum. "I'll do that. Have a nice day!"

"It's already better," Charles said with a joking wink as she headed off.

She crossed the docks, weaving around crates and young men, some of them giving her a double glance, which she ignored. Jameson was conversing with the captain of the ship, so she waited a moment to the side until he was finished before making her approach.

"Good morning, sir," she said politely, stepping forwards. He turned towards her, looking down from his rather remarkable height. "I'm from a boutique in town- Silk and Chiffon. If I recall correctly, we ordered an order or two of silk from the East; do you happen to know if those came in today, and if so, where I could find them?"

Jameson hummed and shuffled through his papers, eyes scanning over the documents. "Silk and Chiffon... Silk and... under what name, Miss?"

"Er, that would be Elliot, sir." Her aunt's surname. A lot of their orders were placed under her name since the business still legally belonged to her.

"Ell...i....ot... ah, yes. We've got one crate of silks for you down... that way, I believe," he said, pointing her towards the edge of the dock where some crates were being unloaded.

"Perfect. Thank you for your time," she said with a bright smile, to which Jameson tipped his cap. She headed off again in the direction he'd pointed.

She waited by the edge of the dock as three of the dockers unloaded the crates. She scanned them, waiting for the right one. Finally, she noted one crate with ELLIOT scrawled on the side in black ink. She stepped forward and took it from the young lad of maybe ten years lifting it off with a nod of gratitude. She shifted it to rest on one hip and slipped him a penny in thanks, to which he smiled brightly and pocketed it. (What could she say? She had a soft spot for children.)

@boneshadow22

Everett tilted his head in greeting as some of the workers milled by and approached one of the men regularly assigned to where his cotton shipments usually came in. Everett owned a large portion of land and companies spread out through England and Europe which traded frequently internationally. They specialized in textiles and exotic products as well as stock market trade. However, with the current condition of the market that part of the business was floundering, so they started to try and appeal to their richer customers with providing more foreign products. He figured he would be spending more and more time at the docks. Although perhaps this was a good thing, so he could get some view on his competition.

"How is everything today Matt?", Everett asked his inherent scowl lightening ever so slightly.

The blond haired man turned his way, a crate clasped tightly in his arms," Oh Mr. Adgate, everything's as swell as the seas I suppose. Your new shipment just came in its over there." At this, he nodded towards a dock a little bit away where a woman in a gorgeous lilac dress stood. For a moment Matt's eyes lingered; she was certainly hard to miss.

Everett glanced towards where Matt had gestured his eyes caught on Isla as well. So much so that he didn't even notice Matt being called away by a coworker to help unload some of the big shipment. This was mostly because of the feeling of his stomach crawling into his throat.

Almost immediately his brain started to spiral out of control. What was he supposed to say? She was really standing right there? He thought he'd never see her again for gods sake! He tried to ignore the pang of guilt, that poor poor dress (even though Isla had cleaned it up good as new). His heart beat limply in his chest and for a moment he was sure he wasn't getting enough oxygen. He might be sick.

However, his legs started to work without his brains consent. They strided right over to that dock, a little hesitantly if it must be admitted, and shuffled over to one of the boxes labeled ADGATE just as a little boy happily scampered away.

"Fancy seeing you here this fine morning", Everett started to sweat just a little. When he spoke his throat dried out a little, but he tried to pretend as best he could he most certainly was not nervous at all. Should he ask he about the dinner thing? No, no no, not today, maybe some other more convenient time... Although he knew he should just... try. If she wasn't suddenly angry about the dress. before she could say anything else he suddenly sputtered," Oh, I'm terribly sorry about that nice dress again. Such fine fabric. Is it alright?" He asked it much like he was asking about a pet who had gone to the vet.

@flightfight312

also B WOT U MEAN MOSTLY DIALOGUE, MOSTlY WORDS N biG AS HECC PARAGRAPHS MHM MUCHAS GRACIAS CHICA

Isla readjusted her grip on the crate and started slightly when she heard a voice. She looked to her left and blinked, letting her gaze travel upwards towards Everett's face. She paused, not recognizing him, then it hit her. The businessman from the streets. She laughed softly.

"Always a pleasure," she said with a small nod and a smile. She started off towards the streets, but was stopped by a torrent of words.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry about that nice dress again. Such fine fabric. Is it alright?"

She turned, her curiosity piqued. She thought it was interesting that he was showing concern for her ruined dress- and such genuine concern at that. It didn't seem like a line to get her closer; it seemed like he was actually quite worried. How strange, yet endearing.

She tapped her fingertips against the sides of the crate. "Don't worry about that, sir," she reassured him. "All the stains are out and it's good as new. Did you manage to clean the juice out of your own suit? If not, I've got a few tips and tricks to try and get it out. It may not work as well after a day or two of letting it set, but if you've already attempted and it hasn't quite got the job done, I may be able to polish it off for you."

She paused and nodded towards the crate at his feet. "Is that yours?" She couldn't quite recall his first name- even if he'd given it to her. Adgate. That sounded faintly familiar. He looked like a politician; was he a politician? She might have read his name in the newspaper once or twice, possibly. If he was, she made a mental note to be careful with what she says. You never want to get on a politician's bad side.

@boneshadow22 and we're back to short heheh

"Actually no, I never really got the stains out. It was such a shame, one of my favorite suits you see", he mumbled feeling a spike of agitation at himself for ruining it again. "Would you really? If its no trouble at all that would mean a lot to me. I don't wan't to throw it out, but I cant conduct business as usual with red stains everywhere. Thank you very much." With that a goofy smile spread across his face. It sure was kind of her to offer him some help.

After a moment he looked back to the crates beside his feet and briefly nodded," Yes, my company is getting a load of shipments today from China. Lots of porcelain and silk, even some Ming dynasty sculptures and art." He quickly glanced up at her, noticing the crate cradled in her arms," what about you?" Most of this docking area was for business and company shipments, did she own a company too? The idea of a woman owning a company was bizarre in a time like this with women just now achieving some of their rights and only 2/3rd currently having the right to vote since a recent 4 years ago. For Ev it was quite fascinating. He wondered how she ran her business if she had one. Was it different than his? Curiously, he peeked at the crate trying to guess what could possibly be in there.

@flightfight312 aa yeah sorry its short chica ;^; huu

"Yes, of course," she said with a nod and a small smile. "Wouldn't be a problem. Walk with me, will you?" She waited a moment for him to retrieve his crate, then started off.

She started off towards the street, shifting her own crate's weight in her arms. "I run Silk and Chiffon, just down the road. It's actually my aunt's company, but I took it over when she retired. Everything's under her name. So when we order shipments," she said, nodding down at her crate, "They come under 'Elliot'. It's pretty much just fabrics, dyes, et cetera. Today it's silk, another day it's furs, another day it's velvet... you get the picture."

They strolled down the street as people bustled about, still preparing for the day. Carts rolled down the street, some pulled by horses, some by men.

"You mentioned you run a business," Isla said as a means to keep the conversation going. "But you're ordering sculptures and fabrics. Are you in the trade industry? I can't think of any other profession that would require such things." In this day in age, many of the more wealthy businessmen had some sort of hold on the vast trading empire that spanned across Eurasia, or they worked in manufacturing or politics. She wasn't exactly sure what sort of businessman Everett was; she knew that he dealt in foreign wares, and that was all.

@boneshadow22

yes mine is short too yikes

"Oh thank you", he smiled and swiveled on the dock to reach for his crates. After stacking them and stretching his arms so he could carry them comfortably, he continued along beside her. Hearing about her business, Everett's eyebrows rose with interest," Oh really? I've never been inside, but I always see people bustling in and out. I bet the products are top notch. What's it like having to make dresses and manage affairs?", he asked with a small smile. Admiration slowly inflated in his chest. It was a lot of work to run a business especially against all the men and their monopolies out there as well as manage products. Especially in these hard times too. Although Everett never doubted she could do it, he couldn't help but be a little impressed.

"Ah yes, I dabble in a little bit of everything, mostly foreign trade and estate kind of work though and some manufacturing. However I'm not the best at politics...", with that his voice kind of died off. Memories of his previous business deals resurfaced. Lately he his smooth talking wasn't getting him by as easy since the pressure of the economy stared to cracked down on everyone. "But you must be great at selling a good dress, you could probably even get me to buy one hm?"

@flightfight312

@boneshadow22 my how the tables have turned heh sorry this took so long

Isla chuckled, shaking her head. "I doubt that, sir. But there is a nice shop next door that specializes in suits, if you're looking for something new." Her shop used to sell men's business attire, but after a while they realized they would be more successful tailoring (pun intended) towards the female population with the constant flux of the fashion market. One day feathers were in, another leather was out. Men's fashion was a little bit more consistent, so there were less male clients looking for new clothes than there were women.

"And I understand the dislike of politics," she agreed. "I've never been very up-to-date either. My main source of information is my clients; sometimes they gossip and I pick up on a few things. Otherwise, the papers aren't really within my realm of interest. But I have heard about those murders going around- ugly business, that. A lot of people are scared to go out at night and have been closing up early. We don't really have the privilege of that option with all the backorders we have and whatnot. Not that I don't think it's all a loud of hearsay, mind you. I mean, really? Murderers in London? I think people are getting a little out of their heads with all the drama circulating around."

She sighed, adjusting her grip on the crate. "That was a bit of tangent I went on there. Sorry. I think we're all a little on edge right now."