[Private] All That Glitters

She'd done her homework. She'd discreetly texted around the Freehold. Well, 'around the Freehold' this time meaning Linden and Riley. Both of them assured her that Mr. Hartman was legitimate, or at least Riley's string of emojis made it seem like they approved. Which at least means she shouldn't be walking into some kind of trap. Some might think 'Who would set a trap in a tiki bar?' Those people are insufficiently paranoid. You can set a trap anywhere. It's just harder when it's in public.

It's also reassuring (though not definitive) to sense the presence of a Seasonal Mantle around the loudly dressed man who is obviously waiting for somebody. Probably her, as it doesn't look like there are any other Changelings in the joint. She hangs back for just a moment by the entrance of the bar, eyes going to the room's entrances and exits to mark them in her head, before walking directly towards his table.

Oh this is that kind of meeting. The kind with business expenses and accountants. Interesting. When the server comes by, Wayland orders crab rangoons and a Coke. Always happy to eat on somebody else's time.

He called meeting her a pleasure twice, which Wayland finds a little odd, but she reaches out with a tarnished, silver hand and shakes his with a firm grip. "Ramona," she answers his introduction with her own. "Nice to meet you, Archie."

Loud suit, loud man. Figures. Not loud, so much as wordy. Not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, Wayland prefers this. Let him be the one to open up first, to hand out details and explain his position. She waits patiently while he goes on, until finally he brings the one-sided conversation back around to why he called her here. By now her Coke has arrived. She takes a small sip, before filling the silence after his cacophony with a few words of her own.

"I asked Riley about you. They say you're good people. Tell me more about this scrap."

A plate of rangoons lands in front of her, and she scoops one up, munching while she watches Archie.

Wayland's brow tightens in a small, confused frown. Unspoken questions run through her head. Why would jewelry be not worth selling but worth paying someone to melt down and keep? Besides, hasn't Archie ever heard of regifting? 'Not my business,' she reminds herself. Since when did Changelings need to make sense? This is what he wants and he's willing to engage her services to get it. "I can help," she answers after a moment, frown easing. "If you're sure this is the best solution for you."

She bites a rangoon in half, chewing and swallowing before going on; "I can't give you a blanket quote until I see the pieces. If there are stones I'll remove them. And if there are different metals I'll separate them out. Do you want bars, or did you have something else in mind for the results?" It's not really her calling, just melting stuff down. And it'll hurt if she has to destroy anything of artistic or sentimental value. But it's work, and a way to help out a Freeholder. She'll bite her tongue.

He didn't answer how he wanted the results of his melted 'scrap.' Well, it's not Wayland's business. He can have it back in bars unless he tells her another way. She eats the other half of her rangoon while she listens to him talk. Just as she thought, he has money. Enough of it that whatever he's going to pay her for this service is a pittance. There's a familiar curl of jealousy in the pit of her stomach. Not that she doesn't have money, but just that wealth inequality exists. That poverty exists, and she grew up in it, and in the same society there are people who can pay for her to melt down their hoards of ugly jewelry without thinking about what it costs them. That thought turns the jealousy to wrath. Which is better, easier to manage. And easier to direct away from Archie, who's done nothing to merit it so far as she knows but exist and have access to wealth.

Thoughts that might have become toxic instead become motivating. Cleansing. She takes a sip of her Coke, and as she sets the glass back on the table, a small smile curling her lips and dimpling her cheeks as he asks about her other work. She shrugs, "I can do just about anything. Shoe horses. Forge gates and fixtures. I've made some armor; fitted mail hauberk, some plate. I'm good with blades, anything from chef's knives to Zweihänder. I dabble in some other areas; gunsmithing, a bit of automechanics, woodcarving, scrimshawing... I do make cosmetic items, jewelry. Ask Riley about their gauntlet."

That's twice now Wayland's work is going to be going to Riley in just the past couple weeks. Interesting. Wayland shakes her head as she picks up another rangoon, "How are they gonna know it's from you if you're not even involved in deciding what it is?" Brief pause while she eats the treat, before she resumes, "Look, I'd be happy to make you a gift for Riley. But it would probably mean a lot more to them if you had some input on what I'm making. So maybe we can figure something out together."

She watches him with a neutral expression. Trying not to make judgements about his self-deprecation. She doesn't know him, after all. Doesn't know his wants and needs and trauma. After a moment's pause when he finishes speaking, she picks up her coke and takes a pensive sip, licking her lips when she sets the glass back down. "Hmm." The sound is pensive, and her eyes go distant as she stares down at the table. The pad of a silver index finger begins tapping against the table's surface. "I don't know if Riley cooks. If they do, I'd say I can make them an excellent chef's knife. But I know that they drink," she lifts her eyes back up to Archie's face. "How about a flask? Pewter or sterling silver. Engraved."