#scarsdale

(Scene)

******Hirim's Upholstery Empire, Alabaster Hollow Freehold************

(Early morning, and as sometimes happens, someone brought bagels and lox, left them on the worktable. Perhaps the sluagh stole one; although this one is a day-old, soaked in tea while he leans in an out of the way place against a wall, near Hirim's desk. He expects the Overlord to arrive before the Peons, and so...)

(Dressed in rumpled clothes, his usual; although since moving from Firnost, he's been scruffier in appearance)

Actually, the Peons do arrive first, setting up the shop for work with a harried, distracted air. They are used to the odd sluagh (albeit female) being in the shop, so they happily ignore Ice. Well before 'start' time, however, the Overlord appears, stumping in with a scowl and setting the shop to work with a single snarl.

(He watches the scurrying with the eye of a visiting anthropologist observing a native ritual, working through his tea and half-bagel. And waits while the Overlord does what Overlords do, until he has time to acknowledge him)

He has several harsh criticisms to make of a few presentation cases, but soon he gets a cup of tar.... or coffee... and limps to his office alcove.

(He works on his Styrofoam cup of tea, leaning and waiting. He's getting a little better at discretion, so he stays quiet and merely watches with sharp eyes while the old man gets settled)

He settles, flipping through a stack of paper and a pad of swatches.

"So, can come back, if it's a bad time. Ever think about getting a secretary?" (Squints and juts chin, after a sip of tea) "That green's not bad, don't mind my saying so, but whoever picked that orange, might want to get them tested for color-blindness, just saying."

(sip)

He looks up with a glare. "It's burnt sienna, you nimrod, and I don't need a secretary getting in the way of my work. What do you want?

"

"Why'd they go and burn it?" He makes a face, then shrugs "Had a lousy idea you could pick apart, then I could go back and give August even more reasons why it won't work. Told him I'd ask, anyway."

August.... the goy? What idea?

"Vending machine. Brought it up as kind of a joke, and he took it serious." (A shrug) "So, I'll tell it serious. Wondered about a vending machine, you know, for dross. Or, you know, some kind of exchange."

A -vending- machine? For -dross-? What, to make it for -sale-???

((Put quotes around that...))

(A shrug, rolling boneless gesture) "Say you got some guy with extra dross, needs to make rent, could figure out what it's worth. Then, you got this OTHER guy, has too much extra cash, but wants some emergency dross for some cantrip, or hell, a date he's going on. Why CAN'T they do some kind of buy/sell deal? He said, Freeholder probably figures out exchange rate, but."

"Kind of automates the process. Suppose you could make it take a small cut, convenience and upkeep, all that."

"Oy vey, kid, keep your mouth shut on this. Dross is not for -sale-!!" He seems equal parts outraged, vexed, and horrified. "Dross is an extension of the Dreaming, of Glamour! Not to be sold or bargained for, it's a -gift-. Not to mention the tsuris you could have with nobles over such a ferkakta idea!

"So, that what you want I should tell him? It's a gift, won't work?"

A wisp of smoke drifts in the door, cradling a basket in her arms.

(A chin-lift to Zara) "Hey, Ghost. Bagels. Want half a day old?"

"Oh... oh. hey Ice."

"Hello Princess." Mumbled as he searches for... well, something on his desk. Or maybe in it.

(It's possible she heard more than they'd think, Hirim is not exactly -quiet-....)

Under it? Too far for the back, it can stay down there.

(Then sips, and back to Hirim) "So, wouldn't have to call it selling. Call it, I don't know, need-based redistribution?"

"M-mama sent cookies and cholent for lunch. In a thermos so it should stay warm..."

(He quiets down so they can talk, flicking eyes over the Peons curiously)

"Thank you, Bubalah, and thank Hannah for me." Muttered. He eyes the other sluagh again. "That sounds Communist. You a Communist??"

"You know what the Communists did to us??"

"Thought it sounded Capitalist. Market-driven, nu?" (He narrows eyes at the older man, shakes head)

Zara retreats to set the basket in a safe place. She has HEARD this story...

(Ice has Not Been Warned)

Hirim launches into an ancient history lesson of Stalin-era pomgoms in Russia, whole villages sentenced to Siberia, immigrating, Torah being lost or destroyed, wealth being 'redistributed' according to need (never JEWISH need) and on... and on... and on... his face grows red(er) and spittle flecks the corners of his mouth by the time he ends with ".... Zara, has this schmuck even HEARD of Fiddler on the Roof????"

(Ice stares, fascinated by the changes to Hirim's face, a look that may be mistaken for rapt attention)

"YOU!" Stabbing a finger at Ice. "YOU need history!! Dinner! Tonight! Zara! Tell your mother!!"

"...for Purim?"

(He blanches, looks to Zara for rescue)

"Do we think She'll be up for dinner again? W-with everyone?"

"Yes, Purim!!" Now the finger stabs at the ceiling . "History!!" And her next question he's taken aback, no longer quite as bombastic. "No.... too confusing. Ratchet will stay with her. Besides, she doesn't know this one." He chin-points at Ice. "Might make her nightmares worse."

"She seemed to be doing okay yesterday..."

(He is standing awkwardly with his Styrofoam cup of tea, looking back and forth)

"Yesterday this idyot wasn't in the room."

"It's okay. Thanks for the invite, you got a lot on your plate, I heard, anyway."

"So, don't have to go." (He flicks eyes to Hirim) "Guy I know has a question, though, wondered if you thought of it."

Zara quietly claims the old bagel, delicately ripping off a hunk to gum at.

"You come anyway. What, you turn down hospitality?" He grins, clearly aware of what he's asking and to whom. He looks at Zara. "He knows about the hats?" Then back at Ice. "What question?"