Etiquette (Solo)

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

OOCThe IC promotion reflects Tock's salary increase for being an Expert Carver. 50th Day of Summer, 512 AV "Miss Zipporah, would you please join me?" Tock paused in mid-step and looked around. She'd just walked through the door of Jacques's warehouse, expecting to spend the morning going over the supplies and figuring out how much wood they needed to order for the next delivery. Wood from the forested mountains around the city was one of Zeltiva's main exports, but plenty of it was also used locally. Her carving projects required wood of a certain quality. Lumber that had knots, discolorations, or other minor flaws could be used in building house frames, since purely visual problems wouldn't matter once the frames were hidden behind wall boards and paint. But a lot of Tock's work involved decorative pieces, such as carving designs into a door, fancy door knockers, or scrollwork for borders and trim around windows, cabinets, and so forth. Whether it be a common citizen's simple cabin, or a larger home for someone with a little money to throw around, she insisted on using wood that had as few flaws, discolorations, or deformities possible. Any flaws in the wood detracted from the carving, not to mention that a knot could make a decorative section fall right out of a piece of wood. Because of her high standards, she had taken it upon herself to oversee ordering each shipment of wood since she started. No one had ever asked her to, no one ever told her otherwise, so she'd just kept on doing it. She wasn't even sure whose job it was supposed to be (most likely Eavin's, but that lousy drunk never got anything done on time). When each shipment came in, she went through every wagon by hand, and picked out the best wood. She had claimed a corner of the warehouse for HER wood, and everyone knew and understood that they weren't to touch it. When they had a job, lumber, tools, and supplies were loaded onto Jacques's wagons to be taken to whatever part of the city they were working in on a given day, and Tock made sure to know how much of her wood from her supplies would be needed to complete her part of a job. Since they had recently finished their most recent job, and were waiting for Jacques to negotiate the next one, she expected to have a few days where she was left to her own devices. Days they weren't on a job site, most of the workers would be organizing the warehouse, cleaning up, mending and sharpening tools, and performing other basic tasks to get ready for the next job. Tock had planned to oversee organization, check on supply orders, and if she got really bored, get a head start carving something that could be prepared in advance for the next job, like something involving fish. Zeltivans seemed to have this obsession with fish, and half the decorative window frames or door fronts she did seemed to follow that theme. Instead, however, she was being summoned to Jacques's office. She quickly went over the last few days in her head, trying to think what she could have done wrong. Nothing came to mind... she hadn't had any outbursts lately, she hadn't threatened anyone in awhile, and all of her violent and murderous thoughts and desires had been nicely suppressed, her rage building into a tight little ball in her gut. Ever since the talking to he'd given her at the end of spring, she'd (as far as surface appearances were concerned) been on her best behavior. She stepped into the office, noting that they were alone. Jacques shut the door, and gestured her to take a seat. He never shut the door. She HAD to be in trouble... She sat down, nervously rubbing her hands against her legs. Handy, strapped to her belt, mimicked the motion. Jacques eyed the wooden hand nervously, as he always did. He wasn't too fond of her 'contraptions,' as he called them. But he tolerated their presence because Tock got a LOT of work done. When she brought the Automatons to work, productivity increased a great deal. And since he didn't have to paythe Automatons, they were essentially free laborers. Their work meant he was able to hire less workers as a result. This helped his profit margins quite a bit, and made him tolerate their presence. The only restrictions he put on them was her assurance that they couldn't hurt anyone (which they COULD, but only if she commanded them to, a fact that she kept hidden from him), and that she keep them away from their clients. Considering the amount of magic-phobia in Mizahar, he didn't want to risk scaring off a paying customer. As Jacques sat down behind his desk, Tock was so full of nerves that she burst out, "Oy, whatever it were, it ain't my fault! I needs 'is job fer ta pay fer my schoolin', Bossman! An' I done been real goods, like ya said! Ain't done no fightin' an' 'ardly any yellin' an'--" He cut her off by raising a hand, urging her to silence. "You're not in trouble, Miss Zipporah," he said. "I just have a business matter to discuss with you." "Oh..." she replied, mute with shock. She looked around, thinking about the work she had to do. "Izzit important? Cause ya know I's gotta lotta..." she jerked her thumb over her shoulder, towards the door, but Jacques interrupted again. "It is important, Miss Zipporah. We have a new client coming in. And I need to discuss some... matters of etiquette with you..." She frowned, confused, and asked, "So's I is in trouble...?" Usually when people talked to her about 'etiquette,' they meant she was doing something wrong. Jacques sighed and rubbed his hand across his face. "You know," he said, "for a brilliant woman, sometimes you..." He trailed off, and Tock scowled at him, not sure what he was getting at. But he had that look on his face. The one that came about when it was like they were speaking a different language. Somehow, she knew this was going to be a LONG morning...

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

Jacques leaned forward, planting his elbows on the desk, and steepling his fingers. He studied her for a long moment, while she watched him impatiently. Finally she threw up her hands, with Handy mimicking the wave of exasperation, and she asked, "What? What is it, Bossman!?" He sighed and asked her, "How long have you been working for me?" She shrugged and said, "I unno... 'bout a season?" She couldn't remember the exact date she'd entered Zeltiva, but it had been mid-Spring. Jacques nodded and said, "And in that time, we haven't seem to figure out how to... communicate." Tock frowned and waved her hand at him, replying, "Oy, whazzer goin' on 'bout, Bossman? We's communicatin' right now!" He laughed, shaking his head. Tock crossed her arms and scowled at him, Handy tapping his fingers on her leg. After a moment, Jacques said, "This is exactly what I mean. You and I... we seem to have some fundamental differences in our viewpoints and upbringing..." "Upbringin'!?" she asked, leaning forward with a glare. "Oy, whazzis, 'bout me bein' from Sunberth!?" She was on the verge of losing her temper. Jacques sighed and said, "No no no... let me start over..." Tock rolled her eyes and sat back in her chair. Their conversations always went like this. "You are a highly skilled worker," he said. Tock just nodded. She knew she was, she didn't need him tell her that. "And despite your... unorthodox methods, you are rather good at motivating the men to work harder." Tock snorted and said, "Bunch o' lazy bludgers, the lot o' 'em..." Jacques sighed and said, "And thus, you bring me to the point of this conversation." Tock stared at him blankly, having NO idea what he was talking about. After a moment, he continued. "We have three types of laborers on this crew. The unskilled laborers, who have no training or experience in an actual trade. They dig, they carry, they--" "Izza point, Bossman?" Tock interrupted, waving in irritation then crossing her arms again. Jacques sighed again and continued as if he hadn't been interrupted, "...they perform the most basic tasks. Then there are the skilled craftsmen. Yourself on the carving, James on the masonry, Bram for the locksmithing, and so forth." Tock huffed in frustration, waiting impatiently for her boss to say something she didn't know. "Then there are the supervisors..." Tock's eyes narrowed, thinking of Eavin, the useless drunk. "Now, I know you aren't fond of Eavin. But you get along quite well with Philip, and with Jacob." Philip was Tock's immediate supervisor, the head woodcarver. He'd been teaching her ever since she joined the crew, and had a lot to do with how far she'd come in her skill. Jacob was the head architect who designed most of their projects. Both of them reported directly to Eavin, but oversaw an apprentice or two of their own. Eavin also oversaw all the unskilled laborers on the crew. "Do you know what the difference is between yourself and James, as opposed to Philip and Jacob?" Jacques asked. Tock shrugged and said, "'Ey's been 'ere longer, an' knows more..." Jacques smirked. "Technically true," he said. "But once again, not what I was getting at. The difference I was referring to is their attitudes. The way they handle the crew. Would you agree that they are both patient, kind but assertive, slow to anger, and good at handling people?" Tock's eyes narrowed. She had a bad feeling she was finally seeing where this was going. "Aye," she said. "Aye, Bossman. Alla stuff I ain't, aye?" She knew it. She was in trouble. Jacques slowly nodded, tapping his steepled fingers against his lips. "All things you are not, yes," he said. "But things you could be. I can tell you've been working on your temper. But to succeed in this crew... and in this city, you need to take it a step further..." Tock sucked on her teeth. She'd heard a similar speech before. She didn't see what the problem was with the way she was... When she said nothing, Jacques told her, "You have the skills needed to perform exceptionally. Point of fact, your... mystical abilities have often made me wonder why you're wasting your talents in construction..." "Oy, I LIKE construction, Bossman!" she cried out. She was getting fired, she knew it! "I ain't no stuck up Poshy what's done gonna says I's better'n common workin' folk, what jus' fer cause I's got somethin' what 'ey ain't, an'--" "Tock... Tock!" he said, waving his hands at her to silence her. She shut up immediately... he never called her 'Tock.' It was always so formal, with 'Miss Zipporah.' Jacques rubbed his hands across his face, then in a tone of restrained frustration, said, "Once more you accentuate my very point with your reactions. Please, calm yourself, so that we can continue." Tock sat back in her chair again, grinding her teeth. She didn't understand what was going on. She felt like she was in trouble, but didn't know why!

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

Tock sat there, arms crossed, staring up into the corner of the wall. She didn't like being put on the spot. She didn't like having all her flaws pointed out. She didn't like-- "Tock, if you're going to succeed as a Supervisor, this is exactly the kind of thing you need to work on..." ...huh? She turned back to look at Jacques, but before she could ask what he was talking about, Jacob opened the door and interrupted them. "Jacques," he said, "Mr. Marshall is here..." Jacques sighed and rubbed his face. "Very well," he said. "Bring him in, we can't keep him--" "Oy, woah woah woah!" Tock interrupted, standing up and waving her hands at him. "Whazzat 'bout, Supervisor...?" She was... stunned. Though in a way she shouldn't have been. She'd been helping run the crew ever since she got here. Even though she reported first to Philip, and then to Eavin. Before she could get an answer out of Jacques, Jacob led a rather well-dressed man into the office. Jacques offered his hand, and the man shook it, taking his hat off. "Mr. Marshall, a pleasure," he said. "You've met Jacob, our lead architect. And this is... Tock," he gestured to her. "Pleasure," Marshall said, taking Tock's hand and leaning over it in a rather gentlemanly fashion, which just made Tock snort and roll her eyes. Then Jacques pulled a chair out for him, and the man sat, adjusting his expensive looking clothes. He no doubt did his shopping on West Street. Jacques returned to his seat behind the desk and said, "Well, shall we begin?" Tock turned to leave, assuming she was now in the way. Before she got out the door, Jacques said, "Tock? Please, join us..." She blinked and turned back, looking at the three men. She never sat in on meetings in the office. Nor did she want to. She had more important things to do! But Jacques was the boss. Hesitantly, and feeling strangely nervous, Tock returned to her chair. She scratched her head, and at the same time wrung her hands together, not even conscious of the fact that one of the wringing hands was Handy. Though Mr. Marshall, after a moment's confusion and a double take, looked right at the moving wooden hand, his jaw dropping open. Jacques looked at the hand, clearly having forgotten it was there during the long and meandering conversation. Tock looked around, wondering why everyone was staring at her. "What?" she asked, rubbing her sleeve across her face, thinking there was something on her nose. Handy waved at the stranger, and Mr. Marshall, dumbfounded, waved back. Then he scooted his chair a bit further away.

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

Tock wasn't normally a nervous person. She was an in-your-face, say-it-like-it-is, doesn't-care-what-anyone-else-thinks, outgoing, bold, high strung bitch. But this situation had her on edge, and she wasn't even sure why. Jacques kept giving her these looks while he was talking to Marshall. Like she was doing something wrong, even though all she was doing was sitting there. She wanted to be working, instead of just sitting here... "...with enough space for myself, my secretary, our assistants, and up to four ships' captains and crews," Marshall was saying, while Jacob took notes. Was Tock supposed to be taking notes? She wasn't even sure what she was doing here. "Of course, it's rare they'd all be in the city at the same time, but I'd like to be prepared for the possibility, yes?" Tock looked over Jacob's shoulder at his notes. She hadn't been paying attention. From what she gathered, Marshall needed a new office built down at the docks. She vaguely remembered that the man owned a warehouse down there, one the crew had done repairs to last spring, after the storm. If she wasn't mistaken, he was one of the many food importers that kept Zeltiva from starving. And his ships took lumber out after dropping food off. Apparently, the storm had badly damaged another supplier's ships and business, and the other man hadn't been able to hold on after the losses. Marshall had taken on some debt to buy the competitor's remaining ships in order to expand his own business. He was thriving quite well now, and seeking to expand his base of operations with a larger office. Which was all well and good, but still didn't explain why Tock was in the room. "What do you think, Tock?" "Huh?" she looked up from Jacob's notes, finding they were all looking at her again. She hadn't been paying attention. "Wotcher, Guv?" she asked, not sure what was going on. "Watch... whom?" Marshall asked, frowning in confusion. Jacques let out a nervous laugh and said, "You'll have to forgive Tock, Mr. Marshall. She's not a native, and sometimes slips a little... Inar into a conversation without realizing it." Tock scowled at her boss. She only vaguely knew what an Inartan was (having been teased for her red hair before, by people claiming she must have Inartan blood in her). But she didn't speak a word of their language, and hated it when people made fun of the way she spoke. "But she's my best woodcarver, and she'll be designing all your signs, decorative trim, the designs on your front doors, and so forth." Tock was gaping at Jacques while Marshall nodded and said, "Ahh, yes. Quite important, that. First impression is the most important, yes. I need a sign out front that draws attention in! Makes potential customers know I'm the supplier for them! And I was also thinking of something for the foyer, an art piece of some kind... Do you know any artists in the city?" "Tock, did you say you also do sculptures?" Jacques asked. She stared at him, then looked at Marshall, then at Jacob, then back at Jacques. Finally she said, "Oy, Bossman, Philip--" "Will be missed, yes," Jacques said, giving her a stern look. "But Mr. Marshall's request? You do artistic pieces as well, correct?" The pieces were slowly clicking together in her mind, tick, tock, tick, tock... "OH!" she cried out, suddenly breaking into a grin. Philip had gotten fired... or quit... or, whatever... And she was taking his place!

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

Tock was suddenly paying close attention. "Aye, wotcher needs, Guv?" she asked Marshall. Jacques cleared his throat, and gave her a look. She looked at him and shrugged in confusion. She continued, "Whazza like, wood statue ya wants? O' stone? O' whatever... I can does 'er up real good-like, jus' lemme know whatcha done needs, an'..." "Jacob, why don't you show Mr. Marshall some of Miss Zipporah's work?" Jacques interrupted. Tock looked at him, confused about why he had cut her off. "The house down the street, from last week?" He rose from his seat and smiled at Marshall, "It's not far, and the weather is lovely today, after all. Always better to see the product first hand, wouldn't you way?" Marshall hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Quite right, quite right," he said, rising and planting his hat firmly on his head, adjusting the brim just so. "I wouldn't mind a little air. And Miss... Zippreh? Will you be joining us?" Tock opened her mouth to snap at the man, quite pissed off, but Jacques interrupted her, "I have a few things to go over with Miss Zipporah, in preparation for the construction. I hope you don't mind..." "Course not, course not," Marshall said, shaking Jacques's hand. "I'll see you both in a bit, then." He gave Handy another distrustful look, then headed out. Tock turned straight to Jacques and said, "Oy, Bossman, whaz--" He cut her off with a stern noise and a sharp look, waiting until Marshall was out the door and it firmly shut behind him. Then he let out a sigh, and turned to Tock. But she was SICK of being cut off. She threw her arms in the air and shouted, "Whazza 'ell izza big idea!? I's tryin' fer ta 'elp the bloke, jus' like ya done wants, an'--" "Tock, listen--" "Nah, nah, nah, Bossman!" she shouted, waving a finger in his face. "Ya done been cuttin' me off every time I open my damn mouth! Now, is right good what fer ya wanna 'as me does Philip's job 'n'all, but I ain't what gonna be treated like 'at!" She stared him down for a moment, and he just stared back, silent. The moment dragged out, and Jacques raised his chin, giving her the stern look that said I'm still your boss... She sucked on her teeth, then lowered her eyes, crossing her arms stubbornly. "Are you finished?" Jacques asked. Tock nodded. "Aye." "Good," Jacques said. "At least you restrained yourself until the customer was out of the room. That's improvement..." She stared at him in shock, then opened her mouth, waving a hand to the door. Then she shut her mouth, grumbling. Jacques had the gall to smirk at her, which just ticked her off more, but she restrained herself to nothing more than an angry glare. It just made him smile more. Finally she shook a finger at him and said, "Oy, yer enjoyin' 'is, ain'tcha! Whazza game o' sommat? Ya done gonna gives me a promotion, jus' what fer ta see if'n I done can ain't been no yellin' no more what fer the extra pay, o sommat?" Jacques frowned in thought for a moment, trying to sort through what she'd just said. Finally, he gave up and said, "Look, Miss Zipporah. The simple fact of the matter is, you're the best carver I've got. Even Philip says you're surpassing him. And... he was offered an opportunity he couldn't pass up. Which means I need to hire on another apprentice, and assign them under you, and--" "Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait..." Tock protested, waving her hands. "'Prentice? I's gettin' me own 'prentice?" she thrust a thumb against her chest. "Two, actually," Jacques said. "For a job this size, with the degree of artistry Mr. Marshall wants, you'll need the extra hands. Unless... your hand can..." he waved down at Handy with a slight frown and an uncertain look. Tock pulled Handy off her belt, his leather tail unlooping from where he'd hung, and planted him on her shoulder. "'E ain't gots no carvin' skills, Bossman," she said, as the hand began stroking her hair lovingly. "Jus' my assistant..." Jacques stared at Handy for a moment, then cleared his throat and continued, "Well... yes, then I'll be hiring two apprentices to work under you. I trust you'll be able to not only show them the ropes, but keep them organized..." Tock crossed her arms and stared him down. "Oy, ya bloody knows I done organized everythin' already 'fore ya bloody promoted me..." she grumbled. Jacques sighed and nodded. "Yes," he said. "And once again, your language brings me back to the point I was trying to raise earlier." He looked at the door, then said, "Hopefully we can get through this conversation before he returns..." After a moment's hesitation, Tock snapped, "Oy, spit it out, Bossman!" Jacques gestured her to her seat, and sat on the edge of his desk. When Tock sat, he said, "If you're going to be taking on greater responsibility, we need to talk about your language, and the way you present yourself to customers. Philip did more than just carving... half of the job is pitching the sale to the customer. Sometimes they don't want the extra frills. We need to sell them on them. Understand?" Tock was starting to. She hugged her arms around her tight, sucked on her teeth, and grumbled under her breath. After a long moment she said, "Ya want I should be more... civil-like ta the poshies..." Jacques smiled, with a somewhat tired expression. "Such an elegant way of putting it..." he said. "But yes... If you're going to meet with clients, and explain your work to them, I need you to adopt a somewhat more... professional demeanor. Clean up your language. Continue working on your temper. Speak a bit more clearly..." Tock glared at him. She really wanted to punch him in the face right now. Or stab him, maybe. She had a knife. She could do it. Bleed him all over the goddamn office... Instead she just asked, "'Ow much more ya gonna pays me?"

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

"Speak to him with respect," Jacques lectured her, while Tock sat, arms folded, staring at the ground. "Make eye contact," he continued, touching his fingers under her chin to raise her gaze to his. "And please, please address his as 'Mister Marshall.' And while I don't mind 'Bossman' around the job site, in front of a client, I'd really rather you address me as 'Mister Belrose.'" She suppressed a sneer at that, not even sure she could pronounce 'Bell-ross-eh' any more than she could pronounce 'Jachque' (though she wore when she said 'Jack Bellrows,' it sounded exactly the same!). "Answer all of his questions," Jacques continued, "and anticipate the questions he isn't asking. Most of our clients don't really know what they need. So when he says 'I'd like it to be unique,' what you need to do, is understand that 'unique' means 'sell him on a more elaborate design...' And above ALL else--" He was interrupted once more by the return of Jacob and Marshall, which left Tock hoping that the 'above ALL else' wasn't really that important. Marshall turned straight to Tock, taking off his hat, and said, "Well, Miss Zippreh, you do some fine work. I've rarely seen a fish carved in such great detail. Perhaps the doors to my new office should have something like that..." Tock stared at him for a moment, then looked at Jacques... then realized everyone was staring at Handy, who was still perched on her shoulder, stroking her hair. She snatched him down and held hands with him, then said, "Aye... uhh, aye, weren't no big thing..." She caught Jacques eye, and saw that, from slightly behind Marshall (and thus just out of his eyesight), he was shaking his head. She stared at Jacques blankly for a moment, wondering what he was trying to say. He made an uplifting motion with his hand, and she said, "Ahhh... OH! Aye, uhh, whazza means fer ta say is, 'at's some mighty fine work, an', err, well, ain't what nobody else 'round Zeltiva done gonna been gettin' 'er good like 'at, aye Guv?" she gave the man a friendly slap on the shoulder. Jacques eyes went wide and he firmly shook his head no, while Marshall rubbed his arm lightly, chuckling. "No, I suppose there aren't many of such skill," he said. "But what do you think? A nice big fish, across both doors..." he held his hands out wide, indicating the size. Tock was sick of carving fish. Everywhere in Zeltiva, it was fish, fish, FISH! She was itching for something more interesting. She waved a hand dismissively at Marshall and said, "Oy, Guv, ain't fer no more fish, aye? Ya can done does better'n'at... an', err..." She caught Jacques with a slightly panicked look behind the man's head, making frantic hand motions as if to shut her up. She frowned for a moment, thought about it, then said, "Oy, whazza means, Guv," Jacques shot her a stern look over Marshall's shoulder, "err, Mistah Marshall, aye? Izzat, 'ere's fish done been everywhere, aye? Ain'tcha done said fer ya wants yer customers ta know yer the best?" Marshall frowned, rubbing his chin. "Hmm, perhaps you're right," he said. "Though I'm not sure what else..." Jacques made another uplifting motion with his hands, and Tock thought on it, then said, "Oy, Gu-... err, Mistah Marshall, whazzer, ya wants sommat unique, aye?" He smiled and nodded, rubbing his hands together. "Yes, yes! Definitely. I want my offices to stand out in Zeltiva!" Jacques made a rolling motion with his hand, urging her to continue. Tock scratched the back of her head, trying to think what to offer him. Finally, she said, "Well, ain't fer no unique in Zeltiva what wit' the fishies, aye? An' boat's done been done ta death too... fish'n'boats everywhere..." She looked at Jacques for help, but all he did was continue urging her on. He was the owner, the supervisor, and the businessman. She was the artist. Marshall started to look like he was changing his mind, frowning slightly, so Tock blurted out, "'Orses!" Marshall stared at her blankly, and repeated, "'Orses'?" Jacques cleared his throat and corrected, "'Horses'?" Marshall looked at Jacques, then at Tock, and said, "But I run a shipping business..." "Aye," Tock said, nodding eagerly. She was thinking of Monty, and how he'd told her he came all the way from horse-land on a boat. "'Orses done been fast, aye? What so as, yer customers, 'ey sees the 'orses, an' fer one, 'ey's thinkin', 'Oy, iz ain't what no regular run o' the mill joint, aye? 'E's bloody special, 'e is!'" Jacques was staring wide-eyed at her language, but she was on a tangent, and just kept going. "An' fer see, ya gots 'orses what been fast, so's as people thinks yer gonna git stuff where 'ey's goin' fast. An' 'ey's been runnin' 'orses, aye?" she nodded seriously, gesturing to make sure Marshall was paying attention. "Ain't no standin' still 'orses, nosiree. An' 'en ya can says, 'Oy, we done make ships goin' alla way fer ta Cyphrus', what where me brother been from, an' 'ey knows yer some good serious business, what if'n ya goes alla way out 'ere, aye? Aye..." She paused, looking at Jacques. His expression was a mixture of hope and horror. Marshall tapped his chin, considering it. He still seemed on the fence. So Tock added, "Be nothin' like 'er in Zeltiva. When people what thinks 'orses, 'ey's gonna think o' ya, an' think fer all the exotic what imports n'stuff ya done been bringing what from far off places. Folks like 'at kinda stuff..." Slowly, a smile spread on his face. "Hmm, yes, yes..." he nodded, turning to Jacques. "What do you think?" he asked. "Of course, they'd have to look like genuine Cyphrus mares. And perhaps a statue of one for the lobby..." "An excellent idea," Jacques quickly agreed. He shot Tock a look that told her she was lucky the customer had gone for it. "It'll be your unique mark, my good sir! A sign of strength... speed... pride..." He held a hand out, guiding them to picture it. "Marshall Shipping... By land or by see, as fast as can be!" Marshall smiled wide, nodding. Tock was just glad she didn't have to carve more stupid fish.

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

They went over Marshall's needs a bit longer, until Jacques had convinced him on some more designs that would likely have the man taking on some more debt to get the construction done. Tock ended up suggesting a facade similar to The Saville, mimicking some pre-Valterrian architecture styles, even while the bulk of the building would be done using modern techniques. "Ya 'as plain ol' wood at the back, aye?" she said, sketching a preliminary design on a large sheet of paper. "But a layer o' stone blocks in fronna 'at, jus' fer looks, see?" she sketched out a marble facade in front of the main wall. "Makes 'em poshies--" another sharp look from Jacques, "err... 'em 'spectable folks what from West Street, done likes ya better, if'n ya makes 'er up all purty-like, even if she's a faker..." "What she means to say," Jacques amended, "is that marble facade can help you display the proper appearance of dignity and respect, at a fraction of the cost of making the whole building from stone." "Aye, 'at's what I said!" Tock protested, earning her another shut up look. Marshall seemed to be considering it. He wasn't so wealthy as to be able to afford an entire building made of marble, but he was clearly trying to build an appearance for himself, and move up in standing in Zeltiva. Rubbing his chin uncertainly, he asked, "And you know authentic pre-Valterrian architecture?" Tock nodded, but before she could speak, Jacques clapped her on the shoulder and said, "Miss Zipporah is a student at the University, and quite the up and comer. I guarantee you won't find another architect in the city that can provide this kind of artistry at this price..." Tock frowned at him, feeling quite certain he was exaggerating and over-selling her skill. But, on the other hand, there WEREN'T many people around who both worked construction and studied pre-Valterrian subjects at the University (never mind the fact that her area of focus was magic, and the architecture studies was just a hobby). Tock knew she was quite a rarity among Jacques's crew. After all, how many Magi, builders if Golems, forgers of magic weapons, and all around genius inventors built houses for a living? But the fact of the matter was, she liked this kind of work. She'd grown up doing it, working in her Granddad's shop. And one day soon, she wanted to build her own workshop. Built by her own hands, with the help of her magic babies. The more she learned about construction and architecture on the job, the better equipped she'd be for that. And then, one day, she'd build her magic city. If she wanted to do that, she needed to learn everything she could about how cities were built. So she nodded and said, "Aye. I know lots 'bout Alahean stuff... Can does 'er up real good. An' I's guarantee ya, she's be sommat unique, aye?" Of course, she'd need some books from the library to help. And she'd have to study some of the buildings in Zeltiva for design ideas. She was only an amateur when it came to architecture, but she WAS an expert in the art of carving. With Jacob's help, she could design a stone facade in a pre-Valterrian style that would give Marshall the prestigious appearance he wanted for his office. Finally, Marshall nodded. "Indeed," he said. "That sounds most excellent..." They ironed out the rest of the details, settled on a price, and then when Marshall left, Jacques pulled out a bottle of imported wine. "Well," he said, taking out some glasses from a cabinet behind his desk, "Miss Zipporah, you've quite a bit to learn about proper etiquette..." when she glared at him, he amended with a, "but, you're also quite a commodity. I've never had a customer willing to pay for a marble facade before! The stone will have to be imported, likely we won't start the artistic work until fall. But still... I'd consider this cause for celebration!" Tock took the glass of wine he offered her. She wasn't even sure how she felt about this. Playing up on Marshall's poshy sense of stupid appearances went against her ideologies. But then again, she WAS getting a rather nice raise for this... She could live with that. She took a sip of the wine. Then Jacques said, "Now, Miss Zipporah... about your language..." She downed the whole glass of wine and poured herself another. This was going to be a long day...

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

Jacques normally frowned upon drinking on the job. Eavin seemed to be an exception, his drinking habits being ignored because (Tock gathered) he and Jacques had a history. Supposedly, before the Djed storm, he had been a great architect. Presumably Jacques felt he owed him for the prior years of hard work, or felt guilty enough not to fire someone he had worked with for so many years. There had also been the implication that Eavin lost someone to the storm, but Tock neither knew nor cared who it was or what had happened to them. She didn't see suffering a loss as any excuse for acting like a drunken oaf all the time. SHE had suffered a loss, and hasn't let it turn her into a negative person. Sure, she had her own... issues, but she wasn't a worthless, lazy drunk. She never drank on the job. But, Jacques had opened the bottle of wine to celebrate sealing the deal with Marshall. And since then he'd been lecturing Tock on the way she spoke to people. Jacques and Jacob had had one glass each, and Tock had finished off the rest. And now, she was staring into the empty glass, wondering, if she said 'please' and called him 'sir' all proper-like, Jacques would open up a second bottle. "And you really need to address customers as 'Mister,' or 'Missus,'" he said, continuing on with the annoying tirade he'd been performing for the last hour. "It shows them the proper respect, and if we don't respect our customers they won't come back, understand? And you cannot address a customer as 'Poshy' or 'Bludger' or... Well, I don't know what half the terms you use mean, but the context is always derogatory." He held his hands out in a pleading gesture. "I don't care how you speak among the crew; they're all of common stock and drop swears every other word, just as you do. But in front of clients, it's different. Do you understand?" Tock gave a weak nod, keeping her eyes on the ground. "Aye," she mumbled. "Aye, gotcha Bossm-- err, Mistah Bellrows..." He leaned down a bit to catch her eye since she wasn't looking up at him, and gave her a reassuring smile. "I actually don't mind 'Bossman' when we're alone," he said. "But in front of clients, it's 'Mister Bel-ros'-e','" he enunciated the name in a vain hope of correcting her pronunciation. She just nodded weakly. She felt like a failure, with how much he was nagging her now. She kept her eyes on the ground. He reached out and touched under her chin with his fingers, raising her face to look up at him. "You're not in trouble," he assured her, speaking softly. "I just want you to hold yourself in a way befitting how intelligent and skilled I know you are... so that our clients will know how skilled you are." He smirked and then added, "And so they'll pay us accordingly." She nodded, forcing a weak smile. "Ain't what never seen a big deal fer 'er, though..." she said uncertainly. "'Ey done oughta see my WORK fer ta knows I'd good at 'er..." She was pouting, and feeling quite inadequate. "And they will," Jacques assured her. "But long before a client sees the work, they see the crew, yes?" He folded his hands, looking up at the ceiling, "Let me see how I can put this... Ahh, I know," he looked her in the eye. "If you visited an inn where the cook was covered in filth from head to toe, would you buy dinner there?" She made a disgusted face and said, "Oy, no! I ain't eatin' no nasty, maggot-ridden..." Then she realized what he was getting at and shook a finger at him, "Oy, 'at's not FAIR, Bossman! 'At's different! We's what GOTTA git dirty onna job, is messy work, it is! I--" She cut off when he gestured with both hands to calm her. "Yes, I know, Miss Zipporah, but you see my point..." "Nah, I don't!" she said, stubbornly crossing her arms. "Whaz bein' dirty done fer gots ta does wit' 'ow I talk?" Jacques sighed, and rubbed a hand over his face. "Let me try again," he said. He thought for a moment, then asked her, "What's the most important part to a complex job like this?" She frowned in confusion and thought it over. "The blueprints?" she asked. Jacques sighed again, but nodded, even though she somehow knew she'd gotten it wrong. "Yes, but how do you make the blueprints?" She scowled and said, "I draws 'em!" This was another of those conversations that ticked her off, where he asked a bunch of stupid questions she knew he knew the answers to. Still trying to be patient, he asked, "And how do you draw them?" She looked at her fingers, and he quickly amended, "Where do you get the ideas? The designs for your carvings? The skills that let you do a good job?" He leaned forward and tapped a finger against her temple. She thought for a moment, then replied, "My smarts?" Jacques sighed, but nodded and gave her a smile. "Yes, Miss Zipporah. Your 'smarts'. You're a highly capable woman. You'd have to be..." he gestured to Handy, who was currently perched on the table, holding Tock's empty wine glass, waving it about like it was a toy. "You know your trade, you know magic, you're learning architecture... but how do you think a client views you, when you lack a grasp of basic grammar..." And there it was. She hugged her arms tighter around herself, shrinking back in her seat. "'Ey thinks I's dumb...," she muttered. Jacques nodded and replied, "I know you aren't. But if a client wants a skilled architect, and that requires 'smarts'..." Tock finally got it. She felt dumb for not following where this was going sooner. "If'n 'ey thinks I's dumb..." she whispered, "'ey won't think what's fer I does a good job buildin'..." She grew silent. Thinking about it. The thing was... she didn't CARE what people thought about her... ...but if she was going to hold a higher position among Jacques crew, she HAD to care. Otherwise they wouldn't get customers...

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

She got some more reassurances from Jacques, who affirmed that he knew she was capable of this, if only she out her mind to it. She promised him, begrudgingly, that she would. She knew she COULD learn to talk better. It had just never seemed important. What good did talking ever do anybody? It was her hands, not her mouth, that got all her work done. Though, she had to reluctantly admit, her mouth DID get her into trouble sometimes. It was with a sigh and a heavy heart that she left Jacques's office, heading with Jacob to another small room at the front of the warehouse. It had a long table they used for drafting blueprints, along with shelves filled with paper, writing utensils, measuring tools, abaci, and everything else they needed to begin planning. Still just a bit tipsy from the wine, and feeling rather dejected, Tock plopped into a chair and rested her chin on her fists. "Don't feel so bad," Jacob said. He was a good ten years older than her, married, and had a kid. She didn't know much about his personal life, but they'd gotten along well during the time they'd been working together. "Does ya think I's dumb?" she asked him while he was pulling down rolls of paper, rulers, and writing equipment, and laying them on the table. "No," he said. "You do a fine job here. You're just not good with people..." he shrugged, knowing he wasn't telling her anything she didn't already know. "Pfft," Tock replied in disgust. "People... who needs 'em?" Jacob chuckled and said, "We all do. If we want to get paid." Tock grumbled, and silently vowed her magic city wouldn't use money. Everything would be free, and everyone would just do equal work for equal shares. That seemed like the best way...

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

They spent some time going over the preliminary designs, working up a rough first draft based on Marshall's requests. There was going to be quite a bit of decorative trim, not to mention a set of marble pillars out front, and extra scrollwork on the facade. Tock would NEED a couple of apprentices to keep up with it. This was one of the most elaborate projects the crew had taken on since Tock joined up. Most of their work for the last season had been a mix of repairs, and building small houses and cottages. But this was a two story, multi-room building with a lot of extra 'frills.' Their client was going the extra mile to try and put on a good appearance for himself. That meant extra frivolous, yet complex designs. Which in turn meant more work, more time, and as a result more cost. Jacques was sure to make a tidy profit on the deal, Tock had a raise, and they were hiring a few new hands to help get it all done. They drew a basic outline of what the building was going to look like, with Jacob providing the details on where the support struts would go, how wide the foundation had to be, and so forth; while Tock added the artistic designs for the facade, sketched the shape and appearance of the pillars, and drew some preliminary designs for the horses for the front door. She also drew a rough outline of a rearing stallion on the front wall, in the triangular framing between the pillars below and the arched roof peak above. Tock carefully studied the designs Jacob was providing, both to get a better understanding of architecture, and to know how she would need to adjust her trim carvings based on any difference in the shape of a wall, or the location of a stairwell. Then there were things like the support pillars inside the building; while the marble pillars on the outside would be purely decorative, they were adding functional wooden ones inside some of the larger rooms inside. She asked Jacob about how much weight each one could support based on its thickness, how far they had to space them to keep the ceiling well supported, and what the weight capacity would be on each square foot of the floor they were holding up. Since she was going to be carving designs on the pillars, she needed to know how thick they had to be to do their jobs, otherwise she might carve them too narrow and weaken their structure. After a few hours of getting the concept worked out so they knew what they were working with, they gathered up a few workers to head down to the lot by the docks where the office would be built. They needed to take some measurements, and figure out things like how their design concept would fit on the available space, whether the main entrance should be on the long or narrow side of the building (in order to ensure it was facing the docks), and how much material they needed to order based on the dimensions of the building. Only after they had all the measurements could they move on to a more detailed draft of the plans. Among the crew they brought, much to Tock's annoyance, was James. He had to help them work out how much brick was needed for the foundation, and he'd also be helping construct the marble facade before Tock could carve the pillars and trim with her designs. As they were walking to the site, he told her, "Congratulations." "Whazzat?" she asked him gruffly. They were barely on speaking terms lately. Ever since he found out about her breakup, and she felt like he was just trying to get into her pants while she was vulnerable. Which might have been unfair, but hell if she gave a damn. "On your promotion?" he said. She shot him a sharp look. "You're lead woodcarver now, right? That's what everyone said..." She hadn't realized word had gotten around so quick. "Aye," she said, not making eye contact with him. "Gots me some new 'prentices, soon as we 'ires 'em..." She hoped Jacques would let HER pick them out. The last thing she needed was to be saddled with a couple of chumps who didn't have any passion. "Well, I'm happy for you..." James said. Tock snorted. She didn't know whether to believe he was sincere, or... what...