Oscar was feigning boredom, rocking his pointed shoe at the end of the leg he'd crossed over the other. He liked extravagant socks, and it showed. His taste for anything that went under something else was rather decadent, and that's why he adored a good vest, and always splurged on baroque buttons for his shirts, even if they'd never see the light of day under jacket and cravat. He did not, however, adore the loose brass details of this invention. A small engine they said, combustion like what was emerging, but with smoother transference of power. But they clearly didn't know enough craftsmen or smiths to execute their theory properly. They thought they only needed the capital, and bet on him, since he was supposed to be the iron emperor of the new world. They didn't know he could help them much more than that.<br/><br/>"Fairweather." he stopped the older man. "You're already impressing me. Please. You got it going on the third try but I'm still here, aren't I? Obviously it works well once it's going. Don't try to blind me with the science when you're stuttering like that." he said, standing up with his arms out like he was taking abuse. He patted the older man on the shoulder and nodded to his daughter, who was obviously here as a honey trap. She all but soiled herself at the attention. Some lure.<br/><br/>"I'll take it. I'll buy it and your services for making many more, but I won't put it out until you've perfected it to my liking, and you won't see the bulk of the money until you do. Incentive, yes?" he said and waved at Hound. The man in the shiny hair was in fact named Edward Fuller, but had legally changed his surname because Oscar had stipulated he must. It was a dark joke, but Mr. Williams was often in a position to make demands. "Hound is a lawyer. I was so excited about your contraption I drafted a contract already. Take it with you. I am a hard but fair adversary in business. I know men of the mind work better when they're well taken care of." Hound stood and placed the thick folder with the blue seal on the table close to Fairweather. The man pulled the band and flipped the folder open.<br/><br/>Oscar was already leaving. He didn't need to see the inventor's face when he saw the generous number. There was a loud gasp though, both from the man and his daughter. That was as much of an agreement as Oscar needed. His Hound would fix the rest.<br/><br/>It wasn't a bad contract, as long Fairweather delivered. If he didn't, the paper would automatically twine itself into a snare. Oscar, who was looking forward to some private time in his handsome, wondered if he would fuck the daughter then, since she'd likely be forced into doing that for money. She seemed to be half way there now. Oscar mused about telling that story to Elsie, later.<br/><br/>Before he could leave, Jarl darted in through the double doors of the business building. He was holding a package. Oscar smiled and spoiled the boy with a new box of mints, a coin, and a bill. Jarl was ecstatic about the paper money. Oscar felt similarly about the contents of the package, and the accompanying note.<br/><br/>"From your wife?" one of his secretaries asked when she saw his expression, holding the message.<br/><br/>"Yes. She can be so pleasant when she listens." he said and put the paper in his chest pocket.<br/><br/>The secretary noted that while it might look like infatuation on Oscar's perfectly assembled features, the smile was more that of a satisfied owner - proud and at ease.<br/><br/>-<br/><br/>The lights were on in the streets already, not that the St. Gerald's restaurant would ever be without good illumination for its patrons. Part of dressing up like this, her perfect choices sitting snug on his well-carved frame, was so that others could glimpse his world - a better world - from the other side of the cobblestone path.<br/><br/>Neil Grant was already blushing from the flask he kept, but at least he'd been more than willing to help Anthony with a promise of goose liver and 'aged wine' as he'd put it. Oscar had reminded him of St. Gerald's revolving menu so he would not be disappointed, but left out that such liver was out of trend, right at this moment. The commissioner was going on about a few gruesome happenings, and while Oscar loved that kind of entertainment, it did not poke the burly police head about it, since there were women near. Grant was babbling enough details on his own.<br/><br/>If his secretary had been there when Elizabeth William's arrived, she would have seen a new expression on Oscar. When the boy tasked to do so opened the door to the carriage Oscar knew well, she was so radiant he jogged over, delightfully out of character for his standing, and helped her down the two steps of the vehicle. There would be gossip of this, the Iron King doting on his wife. He laughed in one breath and offered his arm. "Elsie, Elsie." he said, affectionate and playfully chastising, like it was scandalous to be so beautiful.<br/><br/>They were paired up soon, all of them, and Oscar had manipulated the order so that Elsie could sit beside himself, and Anthony at the same time. Pohler was here too, without his wife. He was a journalist, though officially not working this evening. When drunk, Frank Pohler was very amicable. Oscar didn't mind if it was on his own tab.<br/><br/>"How was your day?" he asked as he ignored the menu. They would know to bring him the best. The others were still not there, since they couldn't often visit this place, so they had to read. He leaned closer to his wife. "You look like a pretty hussie." he whispered so that no one might hear but perhaps Anthony beside her. "Well done." he commanded and then turned when the commissioner wanted more attention.