2: EASY MONEY

[royalpassport]

I have a favor to ask, if anyone has the time and inclination. [ Actually. Wait. He wants this done ASAP, so: ] Less a favor, actually, and more an odd job. I'll pay.

[ He could blame his habit of flinging money around like a big spender on his (fake, curse) memories convincing him he comes from a wealthy family, but the truth is... he's always been pretty bad with money. ]

Comments

[royalpassport]

I-- [ You know, he wants to say you're wrong... but you're totally right. Jefferson sighs and grudgingly admits: ] I only have a few wool coats...

Anyway. I don't know how many boxes it'll be. I can give you $100.

[onteamdyson]

SWEET! It's a deal! A cool hundo for helping you move. When exactly is this happening?

[She'd be shaking his hand right now if they weren't talking on the phone. It's not like he won't make the money back, considering she'll probably spend most of it at his shop.]

Did you find an apartment?

[royalpassport]

As soon as possible. Are you free today?

[ And cue: AWKWARD PAUSE. Jefferson clears his throat. ]

No. I'm having my things brought to a motel in the meantime.

[onteamdyson]

I'll send my assistant over. He's really good at lifting things.

[And she'll probably go with him. Not to help, just to watch and collect the money.]

Jefferson! Motels are for crack addicts and people on the run from the law! I might not remember fuck all but I'm pretty sure you are neither of those things!

[...........Or he could be both. How well does she even really know the tea man!?]

[royalpassport]

[ Pauuuuse. ] You have an assistant?

[ WHAT DO YOU EVEN DO FOR A LIVING? ]

And yet that's preferable to what I was living with. [ He's sure of it, though he might sound... a tad dubious. ] It's only a temporary measure.

[onteamdyson]

Totes. Why else would I have gotten married?

[No, seriously, someone please tell her because she doesn't understand how the super hot, super smart, bad-joke-telling side of beef ended up putting a ring on her hot mess of a self.

Also the answer to that question is complicated, Jefferson, you don't even wanna know what she does for a living.]

Shit, dude. That's fucked up. Okay. Gimme your deets and I'll get the muscle. Don't worry about a thing.

[royalpassport]

[ Married??? He takes a moment to absorb that, then responds in an amused tone: ] So you are married. I was right.

[ Is it fucked up? He's hardly a good judge of that. There's a moment where Jefferson wonders if he just has a really melodramatic way of speaking, making things sound worse than they might actually be...

Nah. ]

Thanks. [ AND NOW HE'LL REGALE YOU WITH RELEVANT ADDRESSES. ]