logsville | Hopefully you brought your wallet… OPEN

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Hopefully you brought your wallet… OPEN

Who: Huaisang

undiagnosed and OPEN
What: Taking advantage of a business (and drinking) opportunity, Huaisang is setting up shop on the outskirts of the Christmas Village selling thermoses of hot alcoholic beverage and warm winter scarves to anyone who finds themselves teleported to the Christmas Village and in need of such things.
When: December 10th-December 14, random hours during the daytime depending on whether Archer and Huaisang’s laziness outweighs their desire for money and alcohol
Warnings: Irresponsible alcohol use, Archer

After a couple of unpleasant instances of turning up in the Christmas Village without a coat and the ongoing unpleasantness of this family-friendly event not having alcohol, Huaisang decides to take advantage of this opportunity to help other unfortunate out-of-towners like himself.

Imposing upon Archer’s ability to drive a car and desire to sit around drinking hot alcohol, Huaisang invests in a case each of whiskey and peppermint schnapps, a stack of winter scarves, and a dozen thermoses. Loading all of that into Archer’s trunk, Huaisang picks a spot on the outskirts of the Christmas Village, on the way back to town, and takes a seat with Archer on the rear bumper of the car, sipping their hot Peppermint Patty drinks and getting increasingly drunk. He’s got it all figured out. If they run out of hot chocolate, he can send Archer into the Christmas Village to top up the thermoses, which can then be doctored with the schnapps and whiskey to appropriately alcoholic levels.

Anyone obviously from out of town (really anyone who looks grumpy rather than festive on their way out of the Christmas Village), will be greeted with a cheery wave from Huaisang. “Hello! You look cold. Can I offer you something to help warm you up?”

((OOC: Either Archer or Huaisang can be tagged in this log! Huaisang will be the default unless otherwise specified, with Archer threadcrashing liberally. They can also offer rides back into town, for a hefty premium and by a dangerously intoxicated Archer. Huaisang will be handling all the money, especially for rides into town, because he doesn’t trust Archer not to get distracted and forget about him.))

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Everything about this place seems designed specifically to a) annoy him and b) rub it in his face that he's been turned human. Tossing him into a bloody Christmas Village when he can't simply teleport home is a particular cruelly.

He's planning to get a cab, but the elves in the village were starting to creep him out, so he decides to start walking. It's not that far, really, and it turns out it was a good decision when he stumbles upon a parked car and someone offering him a hot drink. He was fortunate enough to be wearing his coat when he was teleported, but his gloves and scarves are back home, so he's feeling the chill.

"Oh, fuck, absolutely. What've you got?"

"Scarves and peppermint patty. It's hot-chocolate with peppermint-schnapps and whisky." Most of these ingredients are new to Huaisang, but he's discovered by now that they're all wonderful. "Dollar for a cup, six for a whole thermos, five dollars for a scarf."

Those prices are fairly exorbitant, but as the only alcohol or warm scarves between here and a long, cold walk, Huaisang feels confident that people will pay twice what they would pay in the convenience and comfort of town.

As soon as he hears those prices, Crowley laughs, absolutely delighted. "Oh, you are definitely not a local, are you? Love that enterprising spirit." He means that as a genuine compliment, even if earning a compliment from a demon might not be the best thing in the world. But Crowley is very amused. It's absolutely extortion; humans are such delightful creatures. "I'll settle for a cup, reckon my husband would have my head for spending about a day's wages on a thermos."

Aziraphale probably wouldn't give a shit, since it's Crowley's money and they're not really hurting for it now they're both working, but he gets a private little thrill every time he gets to use the phrase my husband and no one can take that away from him.

"Nie Huaisang of Qinghe," he responds, in regards to not being a local. He is very much not a local. Pouring a styrofoam cup full of the heavily alcoholic hot drink, Huaisang holds it out. "Oh, pff, that's half a day's wages and would you look at the size of these thermoses? They're excellent quality thermoses, plus all that alcohol... It'd keep you warm on the walk back to town, and I'm sure your husband would be devastated if you were to catch a chill."

He blinks very earnestly, worried for his new acquaintance's life if he's so reckless as to wander off without being equipped with both full thermos and a warm, soft wool scarf...

"Crowley, of London." He inclines his head in greeting, rather than offering a handshake; he doesn't know exactly where Qinghe is, but he knows enough to pick it as Chinese, and handshakes are a bit Western, probably.

His grin only widens at the attempted upselling. It's very cute when humans try to tempt him, as if he doesn't know every trick in the book, having invented a good half of them. "Points for trying, but I've no plans to walk the whole way home. The puppy dog eyes almost sell it, imagine they'd work on most people. Try those on the next sucker."

Still, he's not most people, so he only fishes a dollar in change out of his pocket to pay for the singular cup.

Huaisang does appreciate the inclined head and gives a cursory little bow in return. "How are you going to get home without walking?"

He blinks hopefully, wondering if this person has some kind of useful magic--so far the only magic Huaisang has encountered this place is the electricity that lives in the walls and the unfortunate teleporting doors. If he doesn't count, well... October.

In theory, Crowley would love to use magic to get home, but his actual answer is a little more mundane than that. He digs his 'watch' out of his pocket, the one they all woke up with, and gives it a little shake. "Not exactly the most fashionable things, but these're useful. I'll have my husband call me a taxi."

As much as he hates the things, and worries they're some sort of surveillance or tracking device, they're useful enough to keep around when the town seems insisting on having teleporting doors.

Huaisang blinks in confusion. He understands the concept of using the device to call for help, but he doesn't understand what his new acquaintance intends to summon and how it will help. Besides, he's here to help. Why bother anyone else? "What's a tak-sy?"

"Oh, right, uh —" It likely should have occurred to him that not everyone will be familiar with the same things he is, since he knows there are folks from different times and worlds here, as odd as that all is. He doesn't know exactly when or where Huaisang is from, so he'll stick to the basics.

He gestures to Archer's car. "There's vehicles like that one, but they're owned by a company, who hires someone to drive 'em. They'll take you where you want to go in return for money. They're often a bit more expensive than driving yourself would be, but useful if you've gotten stuck halfway across town."

"Oh, we'll do that!" Huaisang offers cheerfully. In exchange for money? Of course they will. Hopefully you don't mind your driver being drunk. "Archer would be happy to drive you back home in exchange for money. And we're right here already, so you won't have to wait."

That just earns an amused snort. "No offense, but you'd have to pay me to get me in a car with Archer behind the wheel." Especially since there's alcohol being sold, so he automatically assumes that Archer has been drinking. He might be a demon, but he's never been much a fan of drunk driving, and he's even less keen on it now that he's woefully human.

"Oh, I'm sure we could let you drive for a small additional fee," Huaisang offers immediately. "No wait, and we'll only charge you slightly more than the taxi company. Archer, wake up, we have a customer."

Reaching up, he tugs the sleeping Archer's ear. "Archer!"

Archer jerks awake, grasping for a gun he doesn't have, then sits up holding his hand out like he's holding one. Kind of a... muscle memory thing, there.

"Huh? Oh." Archer looks dully at his hand, then swings his legs up. "Where?"

He sort of vaguely reaches towards Huaisang as if to stop him, ready to protest that this is absolutely not happening, and that he really needs to work on his sales pitch, because the eagerness is off putting, but Archer's already waking up, and Crowley just sighs instead.

"Hullo, Sterling." It's Archer's favourite Brit. Maybe. Aziraphale might have that honour. "I see you've made a friend."

It's just as well that there's no time for a sales pitch lesson, because Huaisang already has figured out that his own skills aren't going to get any further with this guy. Immunity to puppy eyes! How heinous.

So the best plan is to wake up Archer and to see if he has any better luck. And if not, at least Huaisang is pretty certain that this interaction will be entertaining. He blinks innocently back and forth between the two of them.

"Doctor Who?" he barks immediately, then puts a hand to his head as he smooths down his hair. "Uh, yeah, sure. Whatever."

He frowns for a moment, looking between the two.

"...What are we doing?"

Of all the things that Archer could call him, Doctor Who is hardly the most offensive, and he's still operating under the assumption it's just because he's British.

"We're not doing much of anything. I'm afraid uh, Huaisang, was it?" He's terrible with names, so he's pleased with himself for managing to remember it, even if it was only given a few minutes ago. "Afraid Huaisang woke you for nothing, I was about to be on my way."

While it might potentially be fun to get into an argument with Archer about driving the car, he'd much rather just deal with this on his own and be home sooner. Not to mention he doesn't want to seem like a push over. That's a bad reputation for a demon to have.

"Crowley of London was going to call a taxi," Huaisang answered quickly. "But I explained to him that we are a taxi."

He looks wide-eyed and expectant up at Archer, making a 'go on' gesture toward Crowley. Time to show off all that charm and all those skills at selling that you claimed to have, Sterling.

"Rimshot," he mutters to himself, grasping for his cane as he stands up properly. "Sounds like he's got himself dealt with, to me."

If it was someone else, Archer might have been more neutrally polite, maybe even superficially charming because there's the potential of money involved, but Crowley? The Bastard? Nah.

"I seem to remember turned tables from a couple weeks ago."

It's perhaps a little mean, the mocking pout he directs towards Huaisang, a silent too bad so sad. He did try to stop him making a fuss, because he really isn't shocked by this turn of events.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that. Way I remember it, you were practically begging for my help. I'm happy to be on my way." This is why he and Archer are friends.

"Oh," Huaisang says, with sudden realization, pressing a hand to his mouth. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize. I understand completely now."

Beckoning at Archer to bend down, Huaisang whispers something in his ear, then returns to smiling brightly at Crowley.

"We totally understand."

Archer is not subtle as he bends for Huaisang to gossip quietly, right in front of Crowley. He gasps a little, putting on a show of being scandalized.

"He is, isn't he?" he says with a laugh, acting like what had been said was some kind of insult rather than a simple statement. "Well, then, Crowley, don't fall on your ass on your way home!"

The way he sees it, there are two possible options here. Either they are actually gossiping about him, or they're trying to play him. It doesn't really make much of a difference, though, really.

"Aw, that's cute. Did you plan that beforehand? No, no, don't answer, the mystery is more fun." All said in the most patronizing tone possible, which is pretty patronizing, because he learned from the best. The point is that he's letting them know he isn't nearly that easy.

Which is why he gives a little wave, and starts off on his way. "Ciao."

He might've hung around to chat a bit, but while the attempts at selling to him had been cute at first, his patience has run thin. It often does, for people who aren't certain angels.

Predictably, Archer is absolutely no help whatsoever. He drives, but Huaisang spent all the money, had the idea and is quite solidly doing all the heavy lifting, literal and metaphorical.

He recognises a few people that come and go, maybe giving them a wave if they'd had a decent conversation before, maybe flipping them off if not. Otherwise he stays at the back of the car and does the mixing every now and then, gets up to stretch his legs and eventually ends up laying on top of the car with his hands behind his head.

It's terribly cold out, but he's still managed to get drunk enough to pass out. Figures.

Edited 2020-12-17 11:06 (UTC)

Huaisang is content with their agreement, and even though Archer did talk him into a higher cut of the profits than Huaisang had meant to give him, the car is an invaluable element in this operation, and the company is much appreciated as well. Even if the company is trying to freeze to death by passing out drunk on the roof of the car. At least their deal means that he has full power to boss Archer around, and any lack of cooperation is not being 'nice' and therefore only entitled to a lower cut.

"How can you sleep when it's this cold out? You're going to get frost bite," Huaisang scolds, reaching up with his warm gloves that have been wrapped around a warm thermos and cupping them around Archer's ears.

"Do you have any idea," Archer grunts, jerking up and away from Huaisang's hands, "how many layers I have on? And also how much alcohol is inside me?"

How he hasn't died of alcohol poisoning yet is anyone's guess, but in his own words, he's very strong and also very drunk.

"Is anyone even buying? How much did I miss?"

"You can still get frostbite when you're drunk!" Huaisang scolds him, folding his arms over his chest with a huff. "You're at greater risk then, really, because you're less aware of it."

He's from a mountainous area, and the winters are cold. Huaisang knows at least a few things about good sense when it comes to winter conditions, much though he chooses to flaunt some of that wisdom. "Plenty of people are buying, no thanks to your attitude." Huaisang reaches forward, flicking Archer's nose.

"I know that!" he shoots back, still trying to get out of arm's reach. "This isn't my first rodeo in the snow, Robert Peary."

He blinks back when Huaisang manages to flick his nose, shaking his head like a dog that's just been... you know, flicked on the nose.

"Well, it's my invention so you know, whatever!" Archer slides down off the roof of the car, staggering a little as he lands awkwardly and gripping his cane to drag himself back around the right way. "How much have we made?"

"We've made enough to cover the initial cost of our stock, which is good. Our total profits so far are $27. So since you get 30% of that, subtracting the cost of the liquor that you drank... right now your profits are $3." Huaisang blinks innocently at him. Really, Archer, you should stop drinking the products for sale.

"Making this a huge waste of time," he shoots back, irritated at how little it all is. What the hell is he going to do with that. "So... reverse adjusting for inflation, that's like..."

He trails off. Not too bad, but it's certainly better to have the higher amount. That's how money works!

"Whatever. Sell better."

Huaisang pouts in reply to that, hugging his arms over his chest for warmth and maximum sulkiness. "That's not very helpful or nice, Mr. Archer. And you being grumpy is scaring off the customers. So if your cut is only 20 percent, minus the liquor your drank..." He lifts his chin and takes a moment to recalculate the numbers.

"I am not being grumpy! I am being the most goddamn charming asshole anyone has ever met in their pathetic lives here!" he almost shrieks back, very much unlike a charming asshole. "How is this my fault?!"

Huaisang winces at the harsh tone, lower lip starting to quiver. "Don't yell at me, I don't know! Maybe you should sell better, with your charm, and I'll only handle the money." He's absolutely still going to handle the money.

Sniffling about being yelled at, Huaisang glances away, blinking back tears. "I'm cold, and I don't like this city and all I want is to get a little bit of money for art supplies. I'm trying my best."

Archer rolls his eys and looks away at the waterworks, assuming it to be put on.

"Jesus, I didn't even tell you to pout..." he mutters. "Fine, go... get another coat or whatever. I'll do the selling!"

Huaisang takes a seat on the rear bumper, taking a sip from the half full thermos he had been selling from. Maybe he'll feel better once he gets some hot sugar and alcohol inside of him. He continues pouting in Archer's general direction, fully intending to sit back and let him handle the next customer.

And Archer sits and waits...

and waits...

and waits...

It feels like it's been an eternity and he's already bored, though it's only actually been a whole five minutes.

"You scared them all off!"

Huaisang pouts unhappily, turning wide, pitiful eyes up at him. "You promised you'd be nice," Huaisang reminds him. "I should've just gone to Ray. He'd be nice to me."

"Don't give me that look," he shoots back. "I am being nice."

"No, you're not," Huaisang argues petulantly, brow furrowing slightly in hurt confusion. "Do you... do you not know how to be nice?"

Archer had shared his drink, but aside from that he hadn't been particularly friendly or generous. Huaisang had liked him anyway for his dry humor, but now Huaisang's starting to wonder if Archer's actually incapable of being nice.

"I'm being nice by virtue of not murdering you," Archer says, shrugging a shoulder as he unscrews the lid of one of the flasks, drinking directly out of it. "So, you know. You're welcome."

Huaisang turns quiet at that, gazing down at the snow. He's used to being the friend that people only bother with when it's convenient. No one seeks out his company, and he's quick to be forgotten and left behind. He's long since stopped taking that personally and cultivated friendly cheerfulness that people can enjoy when they want and then leave when they're tired of him.

But while he can endure neglect, he can't endure cruelty and overt dislike. If Archer is being generous by not killing him, then Huaisang would rather not risk death and not be treated like a burden. He's made a little pocket money, enough for some art supplies. It's enough.

"I'd like to go home now," Huaisang says, very quietly.

Archer doesn't meet any look Huaisang gives him-- he doesn't feel guilty or bad, but he knows he's being an asshole. He always is.

"Fine," he says, finishing the flash and tossing it into the boot. "Get in."

At the very least, he won't make Huaisang walk back. He's not... that bad. Mostly.

Quiet and pouty, Huaisang climbs into the passenger seat, keeping his gaze on his lap so as not to irritate Archer further.

He sorts out the last of the money as they drive. "Are you keeping the remaining alcohol or leaving it with me? You'll still have almost a dollar profit left over if you take it."

Rubbing his temple, Archer sighs.

"80/20?"

"All right," Huaisang agrees, assuming that refers only to the alcohol. He takes out the cash and does the math swiftly in his head, counting out Archer's thirty percent share of the profits minus the cost of the remaining stock. He sets it gently on the center console.

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Hopefully you brought your wallet… OPEN

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