Emma's Corner of the Universe, Bed-Stuy, NYC. [Thursday Afternoon]

[icecoldfrost]

"~Portfoilo diversification is fun for me and maybe-fun for you but mostly fun for me~" Emma sang under her breath as she worked on her tablet, curled up on her futon. The best part about starting/owning your own company? If you wanted to work from bed in your pjs, YOU COULD. "Oooo...shiny. Mine."

Had she just bought a nightclub in the area that would be District X in a few years? Yes, yes she had, and sometimes having gone to high school in the future was seriously helpful. Not everything turned out the same -- pop stars had different hits, betting on sports hadn't panned out -- but some things? Some things the universe liked to keep running in a particular way. Lately Emma had been funneling a portion of her investment profits into real estate as a side-project, and she was already seeing a few nice returns beyond improved economic stability in the areas she was investing in. "Your name will be 'eVolution,' because I think I'm funny," she informed her screen, "--and now I get to hire people to get you up and running, and get a management company for you, a few layers of investors, and have an accessibility assessment done and your guts checked for asbestos and--."

Her reverie was broken by the 'ping' of an email alert, and Emma switched over to see if it was something she could ignore for now or was a crisis from the school (which was almost ready to re-open), her office, or the Hellfire Club.

It turned out to be none of the above. The realtor she'd hired had just sent her a private listing -- this moving thing was taking forever and 3/4ths of Emma's life was already boxed up but she'd yet to find something suitable -- so she opened it out of curiosity, to see what she'd been sent this time.

She was on the phone just seconds later. "Yes. Offer them thirteen -- the place next door isn't in as good repair and that's got to pull down the value a bit, and it's Soho, not the Upper East Side for fuck's sake. Plus that basement room appears to need finishing, it's practically naked," Finishing with a discreet contractor to reconfigure that storage room/closet/facilities room to add containment for Jack, for starters, and maybe an indoor sauna, "--But I'm willing to go as high as thirty if it means we don't have to get into a bidding war. Close it and close it now, before they get any other offers."

The moment she was off the phone, Emma was sending out a series of text messages. One to Candy, asking her if she still wanted to get out of her parent's place, one to Jack, with just a link to see if he liked it as much as she hoped he would, then there was a call back from her agent -- the woman was damned efficient, Emma was going to have to hire her for other projects -- with confirmation, and then one to everyone else:

Auntie Emma is calling in her favors, children. Who wants to help her move? Take-out and booze provided, and volunteers get to play in the jacuzzi after we're done.

[OOC: NFB, open post! If you think you got the text, you totally did!]

Comments

[furnaceface]

I'll have whatever you're having, Jono texted. I'm not a fussy eater, really. When's moving day?

[icecoldfrost]

When are you available? Emma fired back. I'm practically packed already, and I own almost no furniture. I just can't go diamond to haul boxes in the middle of NYC.

Besides, I'm totally willing to let you pick my dinner and share. Come on, Jono. Since when was Emma NOT willing to telepathically share her tastebuds? Really? She thought it was one of the more fun ways to use her telepathy without going X-Rated pun intended.

[furnaceface]

Well, it's homecoming weekend coming up, but I have roughly about zero interest in sticking around to have pie thrown at my face at a carnival tomorrow. I could probably be there right away.

Seriously, Jono's last encounter with a carnival involved trying to murder people with fire. It bothered him to no end, sometimes, just how short the collective memory of the committee that planned these things could actually be.

And giving me free run of the food that gets eaten is a dangerous proposition, Emma. You know I'll pick quick-and-dirty after sharing Hannibal's tastes for so long.

He just wanted a bloody hamburger. Or a slice of pizza. Or the greasiest fish and chips he could get his hands on.

[icecoldfrost]

Oh please, like I need an excuse to go on a hot dog and burger tour of New York. While Emma's tastes could be quite refined (snobbish) at times, she was also still a young woman in her early twenties with a craving for utter junk food. --but I draw the line at the grease pile you call chips.

Nice try, Jono.

It's Homecoming? Fuck. I should call Jack back and see if he wants to come out here this weekend, or if I'm coming there."

[furnaceface]

Hey, it had been worth a shot!

You wound me deeply, Emma. But hot dogs and burgers will do well enough. If I fall to my knees in a fit of astonishment, just poke me with your foot a few times, I'll come back around.

... He missed junk food.

And yes, it's Homecoming. I'd say you wouldn't be missing out on much, but I live here. I get my fill already.

[icecoldfrost]

Talking to Jack now... she informed him. How about you come up Saturday, and I'll head back to Fandom with both of you on Monday? I might as well spend Halloween in the spookiest place I know.

[furnaceface]

Could work, Jono replied. I might take off a bit early on Saturday and then come back Sunday to finish moving what we couldn't quite manage, though. Hannibal and I were going to chaperone the dance Saturday night. And I couldn't possibly leave him alone to fend off not only the current student body, but also the ones that we were rid of.