No Accounting for Milk

Log Info

• Title: No Accounting for Milk
• Emitter: Sandy
• Characters: Sandy, Sabaina, Cryosanthia
• Place: A03: The TarRaCe
• Time: Tuesday, May 18, 2021, 12:54 PM
• Summary: It's just after the morning rush. Sandy has come to the TarRaCe and meets with Sabina, who seems drained. She inquires, attempting to find out but the conversation diverts to a discussion of milk. Sabina is called away and Sandy leaves. Some time later, Cryosanthia comes in to help with the accounting. Sabina still appears occupied, so the whitescaled sith'makar settles for checking her work. She's offered a glass of milk, which she finds odd but doesn't object to. Later her thoughts wander. After reviewing Sabina's investments and payment plan, she goes for a swim.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--<* A03: The TarRaCe *>--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

Inside, this two-story structure has been almost completely opened up. Generous windows on both stories allow daytime sunlight and cooling night breezes to flow in as needed, while the brick walls have been whitewashed - contrasting with the dark-stained beams and supports, and the rich polish on the wooden floor. A broad strip of stone runs from the entrance to a framed doorway set into the opposite wall, with a sign above the lintel declaring that the baths are to be found that way.

The ground floor is sprinkled with tables and chairs of assorted sizes, offering welcome to guests both large and small. One whole corner of the building - into which guests are not permitted entry - has been given over to the kitchen, which serves as the domain of the famed monster chef Ligum Serforus. Mundane meals are available, but the chef delights in offering up obscure dishes made from the freshest of monster ingredients.

Opposite the kitchen a small bar runs in front of an array of shelves, displaying a broad selection of beverages (most of them alcoholic). The bar-top has been fashioned from what looks to have been old pieces of armor, fused and welded together before being polished to provide a near-smooth finish. Set above it, three human-sized statues have been built into an alcove in the wall: Tarien, Rada and Ceinara jointly keep benevolent watch over the room and its occupants.

To the right of the entrance, a small stage offers a platform for a handful of performers at a time. To the left of the door, a spiral staircase of wrought iron winds its way up to a balcony dining area, that is chiefly reserved for special events and parties.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

The Morning Rush

The early morning croud has gone and the quiet of the early morning has settled over the Tarrace. There in the cornor of the room where the sun shines in sits Bina at a table. Before her on the table are books and ledgers, likely covering the buisness part of the Tarrace and bath house. Her finger traces over lines and numbers with a serrious look.

She herself seems pale. More pale for the lack of her normal mask that sits beside her on the table.

"What's got you looking so off?" asks Sandy as she strolls in, amiably, making her way to drop into a seat near Bina.

Just like that. "Been burning the midnight oil again?"?

Bina looks up and gives Sandy a smile. "Good morning, Sandy. And no, I've been to bed. I did not sleep much but I did try. Early was the morning for me." She motions to the cup of tea next to her and offers. "Would you care for some? I've found that I like this new blend of tea."

"Sure," says Sandy, eyeing the tea. She reaches for it. Seems she's intent on having a sip. "Mmn," she says after a moment, then lkeans back.

"You look drained. What's eating you?" she asks, curiously, eyebrows up as she studies her. A glance around for the peacock.

Bina smiles widely as Sandy takes a cup for herself and sips. "Nice and sweet, yes? A strong blend, left to steep a long time. Local leaf. I added a touch of honey. " She puts the cup to her own lips and sips. "And a dab of milk. As for what's draining me.. well that's no real secret."

"...is it not?" asks Sandy. She looks down at it. Milk? Ewwwww.

"Ugh. Milk," she mutters, then has another sip anyway. Apparently, she's not a fan of milk. who knew?

Bina smiles her wide smile over the lips of her cup. "Oh come now. You can't hate it that much seeing as you had another sip? The freshest of milk, trust me. I procured it myself with my own two hands." She takes another sip. "It's a hit with the customers. They come in tired and flagging. One cup and they perk right up and head out with a spring in their step."

And then there is an emergency in the baths, Sabina is called away.

Sandy leaves without discovering what was bothering her.

Some Time Later

The door swings open, a white scaled Sith'Makar slips in, ducking low. Her tail curls along after her. It's Cryosanthia, wearing her swashbuckling outfit, carrying Little Fang. She looks around and calls out, "Sabina? This one is late, this one apologizes. It was very hard to wake up this morning?"

The morning rush has passed, the lunch rush is dying down. She halts one of the servers. "I was going to help Sabina with the accounting. Is she here?"

She's just stepped into the back, the whitescale is informed and shown to a table off to the side where Sabina was working on the books.

Cryo looks down, then grabs a bench and settles her rump onto it. Lily is set on the ground. "See if they need help in the kitchen," she tells her, petting her on the head. <draconic>

Instructions that want to be obeyed are the best. The pinkscale peeps, "Yesssss" and scoots towards the kitchen doors, pushing her way in. Some clanging and muted happy greetings are heard.

"Sooo..." Cryo exhales, picking up a pencil and looking over the books, "I guess... I'll start here."

The whitescale works for some time. Clanging continues in the kitchen, but no raised voices. High-pitched ones, to be sure, the Lucht Siuil chefs, her Kobold youngling, all conspire on a certain wavelength.

"Would you like some milk?" A server interrupts.

"Uh, okay." Cryo looks up, it's an oddly specific request. There's no reason she wouldn't want some, even if 'dairy' is a mammal thing and the origins somewhat mysterious to her reptilian understanding. It seems a very awkward subject, or adjacent to an awkward subject, if her understanding of the obsessions in the Crimson Pen are accurate.

She looks at the server, who looks back. "Milk, and something to go with it, some fruit would be nice. Thanks."

He leaves, she goes back to the books.

"Odd." Cryo says, licking the pencil, closing one book, opening another. She exhales strongly again, resting on the table. She heads down a column of numbers, touching the pencil but making no marks, mentally adding up numbers.

She makes it most of the way down before she loses track. She starts over, every fifth number she writes something lightly on the table. Once she reaches the bottom of the page, she compares. They match.

Now she adds a tick mark, wipes the numbers off and turns the page.

More time passes.

Cryosanthia turns another page. Around her the sounds of the TarRaCe are a drone that aids concentration. Her mind starts to wander, is this the best performance she can give, right now? It's hardly entertaining, how can Ceinara stand to watch her?

With a careful breath, the whitescale looks at the stage. Empty currently. Next, the room, also empty. A couple couples who clearly would prefer to talk to each other than watch her performance. They might appreciate some background music, but... the hum of conversaton seems to supply adequately.

Am I too focused on myself? She wonders, looking towards the kitchen. There is the sound of pans, frying, orders and "Yes Chef!" being called in response. Lily hasn't emerged; food will captivate her. Perhaps she'll learn a useful skill.

Not that Artifice isn't useful! Cryo immediately corrects herself. Even if she doesn't care much for it, it fascinates her daughter and she should be supported. It does seem rather involved, and dangerous. The industrial indifference of Merkabah seems to be the most oft negative raised about it. People are not only machines, they are spare parts, to be broken up and used.

Something to ask her Golem friends about.

She finds she's drawn her arcane mark on the table with her pencil. Rubbing it out, she returns to the books.

Wages and deductions. This should be straight forward, in Cryosanthia's view. Except something unusual is going on. She has a little experience with running an inn, not a lot, but the Fernwood was a good teacher.

Typically the waitstaff are paid to show up, and then the rest of their income is tips. The Fernwood was better, in that the staff were paid based on the amount of time they worked, and were allowed to keep their tips.

Tip sharing was raised, mostly by Miriam, who often got less than Kaeryn. The half-elf did very well, her tip-cups often as overflowing as her bra-cups. Kaeryn was very defensive about what she made and resistant to sharing, saying it was service and not her tight clothes.

This tune changed when Cryosanthia demonstrated it was service and personality, more than what she filled her uniform with, discounting some hidden interest in lizard-kind among the soft-skins. Kaeryn was all for tip-sharing then. This issue went unresolved until Cryo vanished into Salina's service, then quit, effectively solving things for half of the Fernwood's regular staff.

The TarRaCe seems to be doing something else. There are the hourly wages, then a a deduction which the whitescale can't recognize. At first, she thought it was part of the tip-share scheme, but it was too consistent and there was another column for tips which didn't seem to relate to anything. Sabina neither counting in the wages nor employer-absorbing. A particularily heinous trait. They do that at the Ox Strength. To pay for 'repairs'.

"What is this? Where's it going?"

"Here's your milk and mangoes." A server drops them off, somewhat answering Cryo's question.

The whitescale continues staring at the numbers. Where does that deduct go? Why does it exist? She looks at the collected ledgers on the table. Income - front house. Expenses - Kitchen. Expenses - Baths. Expenses - Stage. Stage expenses? Well... shows would cost something. Investments.

Investments. Cryo opens up that tome and starts reading. Names. Dates. Names of staff, along with a number that seems familiar. she cross compares. Sabina is automatically deducting from wages and putting it in... something. Random names. Reading further she recognizes a Khazad forge near goblin town, one that does reliable work for regular folk and not adventurers. Money is paid in one month, in a chunk, that appears to be a total of all the staff's deductions, and then the next month a bigger chunk comes back, which is sub-divided back amongst the staff.

She rubs at her eye-ridges. So some scheme where the money goes off and works and comes back with more money. Which goes back to the staff's investment total, which seems to be slowly climbing.

"Not bad, not bad." Cryo murmurs to herself. Assuming they get it back at some point, it makes for a good rainy day fun, or nest egg.

Eggs...

She squirms. She stands decisively, putting down the quill and finishing her milk. "I need a swim."

Picking up her mango, she leans into the kitchen, "Lily, come, Ssassa is going to the baths."

"Swimssss!"