Profit in Business

What are we supposed to value the most? Family? Friends? Livelihood? The food we eat or the air we breathe? Which has the most worth? Which is the most... profitable? You don't think about it, but it truly is all that matters...

Selfish, or self-serving, doesn't even begin to describe human nature. From being polite so that we get rewarded a thank you or other forms of gratitude... to doing good deeds like saving the planet or feeding the homeless, all for a pat on the back. But having a green thumb, or giving up a couple cans of food, doesn't detract from the obvious desire to be looked at in a positive light. That's all you do it for, after all...

Have you ever mentioned to a friend that you donated blood? Or perhaps you've pointed out that you'd take a bullet for those you care for. The actions and the words themselves, though quite different, are truly intertwined. Alhough... unless you're in that situation, you can't be absolutely sure what you would do. Saying otherwise is... ignorant, to say the least. Nonetheless, you say you'd do this. You say you've done that. You preach about doing good deeds, and make yourself out to be a good person... all by innocently answering a question here and there, or bringing up an activity to help others...

Transparent.

I don't believe in good people. It's all just a pile of bullshit wrapped up in shiny paper and a glittery bow. If you were told to go fuck yourself after opening a door for someone... if someone in need spit in your face after you went out of your way to help them... no one... not a single fucking person... can say that they'd be okay with that; that they'd walk away without the slightest hint of animosity creeping up from within them. Even if they're good at hiding it, no one would feel very.... giving... after that. Not the oh so wonderful people like my sisters, nor that insignificant dyke Stacy Jones... or... the Omegas.......

All of them... all of us... live to be rewarded. Do things to be rewarded. For money... for fame... for a simple smile, even. All a materialistic desire to be praised, even in the slightest of ways. 'I do it for their happiness'... 'I do it for peace'... 'I do it for God'... just a smile, or a kind word, can open the gates to heaven... right? Ha. In the end, it's all the same. Everything... every... fucking... thing... comes with a price.

"Ma'am?"

The distant, animalistic look in my eyes caused the host who'd come up to cautiously step back. Just a little, as he tried to get my attention again. "Excuse me?"

"Mm?"

"I understand you had a reservation... is your guest on his way?"

"I would assume."

"I see... well, I can get you seated for now." He offered an 'I have to be nice to this snotty bitch or I'll be fired' smile as he led me to a four person table. As I sat down in the carefully carved chair he'd pulled out for me, my icy stare trailed along the scene around me.

801 in Omaha, at the Paxton. It wasn't... good enough. I had higher standards... but what could you expect from Nebraska? Either way, the simplistic setting held multiple cherry-wood tables, shrouded in flawless pearl white cloths that hung like drapes from all sides. Napkins folded into those overused triangles, and a single vase... placed intricately in the middle, with the colors of freshly plucked flowers 'brightening' the environment. Peaceful. Chic. Yet still quite robust, considering it was a chophouse.

Not. Good. Enough.

"What's the point..."

My mumble made the waiter who'd snuck over tense, as he coughed and smiled that fake smile. "Hello, Miss. I'll be your waiter tonight. Can I get you a drink as you wait? A glass of water, and perhaps some wine?"

"...wine?"

"Yes! We of course have cabernet sauvignon, pinot, and chardonnay... single malt scotches..." He paused, swallowing as I stared at him, emotionless. Clearing his throat, he continued... "If you aren't a wine or scotch drinker, we also have a multitude of beers... from domestic to imported... mixed drinks, with Stoli Razberi, Chambord, uh-"

"Alright alright, shut up." I murmured, frowning slightly as a presence crept up behind the waiter. Fuck.

"I'm he~ere Cera Burr!!"

I swear the waiter jumped at least ten feet in the air. He looked over as Jen pounced into the seat next to me. And scooted it closer. And closer. I put a booted foot out so that she'd run into it, as the waiter watched us wordlessly fidget around like children. It was even more amusing due to my being in a tight, little black dress that... accentuated... all of my, eh, assets... and Jen being in a dress equally as short. Only far more colorful. We actually looked quite nice, considering our attire usually consisted of leather and ripped clothing or rainbows, lace and pastel.

As I finally controlled my manager enough to keep her a good two feet away (trust me, it's farther than usual), I sighed dramatically. "I was trying to figure out a drink, Jennifer, before you rudely interrupted myself and this young man..."

"Ooo can I pick? And have some?! Please please please please please pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease--" The waiter and I both started twitching as Ryette continued, her voice raising an octave with each word, "-pleaseplEASEPLEASEPLEASE--"

"OKAY!" I shouted, slapping her upside the head. She squeaked and giggled, as both of us ignored the looks we were getting from the posh, proud and curious all around us. I'd gotten used to the gazes and whispers. And I'm pretty sure Jen thrived on them. But anyway, as much as I wasn't a fan of allowing Jen to drink, I knew a small bit of wine wouldn't hurt. Much.

I hope.

"Yay!" Ryette cried cheerily, clapping her hands together. I mae a gesture with my hand toward the waiter so he knew to give her a SMALL amount in her glass, and he blinked and awkwardly asked poor Jen for her ID. She got a bit huffy, but didn't cause a fuss and handed it over, before exclaiming, "I'll have summa your fiiinest Barbeito Madeira! Bual 1960 sounds good. A whole bottle so Cera Burr and her guest can have some! Kay, tanks."

"Uh... a whole bottle? That'll be over a hundr--" He halted at my look, before meekly nodding and scurrying off to fetch our drink. Silly man, thinking I actually cared about cost.

As we waited for our wine, I leaned down in my chair and glanced over at Jen casually. "The Orphanage has quite an intriguing set of matches this week. Not that we've needed to set a standard and prove to be the driving force here... Double Jeopardy is simply to cement the fact that we're..."

"The bomb-diggity??"

"...I was going to say-"

"Baws ayuss biatchez?"

"...no." Glowering at her for a moment, I sighed and rapped my crimson nails on the table. "...we are... holding all of the power. And it's to that point where no one else really stands a chance."

"And all ya gotta do is your job!"

"Exactly." I smirked and clenched that hand on the table into a fist. "Most of the idiots in VoW, minus the bare minimum that actually hold some semblance of talent... such as Zhong... well... everyone else stands up on their soapbox and preaches about their strengths. About how they're going to be forces to be reckoned with. Yet... they've not proven that."

"Are ya talkin' about Stacy and Keisha?" Jen questioned innocently, twirling her salad fork in the air as our waiter came back. He opened the wine and poured it into a couple of glasses as I responded...

"Stacy isn't completely worthless. She has a certain... low... level of ability. Though I believe Brett to be a far more dangerous competitor. There's not threat with Stacy Jones, and just the same.... only far less relevant... is Keisha Britely. I'm sure that it won't be much of a task to defeat her, just as I did last week. Insulting me as she did... to not fight afterward? Revolting. It'll be my pleasure to knock some sense into her at Double Jeopardy."

"Iono if she'll be thaa~t easy ta beat... she countered ya pretty hardcore last week!"

My face reddened slightly as my fist tightened even more. The waiter was waiting to ask us for our orders, but refrained as I responded icily, "I... made a fucking rookie mistake. It doesn't help when I have a goddamn moron like you on the sidelines. Do you enjoy pestering me and distracting me during my matches?!"

"A true warrior does not let distractions stop them from meetin' their goals." Jen said, in an uncharacteristically serious tone. I peered over at her, as she smiled sweetly and waved her fingers at the waiter. "Oh hai! Since you're here, can I haz the roasted scallops wif the red pepper glaze? Sounds yummy! Oh and ten of the fried donut holes! Four lemon curds and six raspburray! Two fresh fruit cups, annnnd... two scones!"

The guy scrambled to write this down, looking flustered and bewildered. I shot Jen a look, letting her know that she'd be punished if she didn't eat all that she'd ordered, before noticing the waiter looking over at me warily. I straightened and relaxed my body, noticing a certain man enter the doors to the restaurant. Taking in a breath, I looked up at the guy calmly, "I'll have the Artisan Mixed Greens, with none of the herbed goat cheese. Take off any kind of berries as well. But add shaved red onion, a bit of Parmesan crisp, and a poached egg on top."

I smiled a wickedly smile at the waiter, who grimaced and took our fancy menus away. As he walked off, the man who'd just walked in strolled forward. He had an easy going, award winning smile and the most stereotypical 'business man' hair. Dressed smartly, he straightened his tie and sat down, as I kept that cool smirk on my lips.

"Miss Cera. It's a pleasure."

"The pleasure is all mine. Finally I get to do some business without any... drama." I waved my hand in the air, as the man smiled weakly. I also noticed that he was keeping some distance, which only amused me more. "Problem, kiddo?"

"Oh of course not. I'm just a bit of a superstitious man. Bad luck seems to surround you, Cera. But that won't stop me from going through with the offer..."

"Good. We'd have some problems if it did. Now while I don't really see a point in talking about my career, my opponent this week, and so forth... I admit, Double Jeopardy is a good time to get the wheels turning."

"It's a good opportunity. From a business perspective." He paused, before smiling again and leaning forward slightly. "Anyway, let's talk... money."

"Oh with pleasure... but first... tell me... " With a pause of my own for dramatic effect, I leaned toward him as well. The man raised an eyebrow when I got close, as the next words escaped my lips slowly... his eyes widening with every word...

"How's Georgie?"

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~This has been a V rp, thanx for reading and have a great f*cking day!~