Pleasantries

-The Cartagan Orchard. Morning, 2 DSTR-

Tyreth felt his self-confident smile slowly slide back into a dead pan expression as the money lender suggested that they postpone the meeting. He was not certain of the current value of the estate, but he knew that he did not have enough personal money to pay whatever debts his uncle had accumulated. Taking a moment to curse the dead whoremonger, Tyreth glanced towards the table before speaking in a slightly less offensive tone, one edging towards compliance, "My office would be a fine place to discuss this, Mr. Cartwright. I will be bringing my food, and I must recommend that you try some for yourself. My uncle had quite the cooking staff here, but I do not wish to discuss these matters out in the open. I hope you understand."

Picking up his plate and the mug of water that accompanies it, he glanced up and made eye contact with Cordelia. Standing up straight, he narrowed his eyes before speaking, "Accompany us. I'm sure we are in for lengthy discussion, and I have found that water has just the right knack to keep the tongue rolling."

Looking back to Randel, he gestured towards the East Wing before speaking, "If you will please, Mr. Cartwright." If the half-elf made a move to follow, Tyreth would lead him through the halls of the first floor. They were framed and walled by wood from the very trees that had been clearsd to make room for the orchard. The oak looked sturdy, but there was a certain degree of sag that could only be the result of termite damage. Cursing his uncle for what must have been the twentieth time that day, he reminded himself to apologize for this all later. It was bad luck to curse the dead, and the gods did not hold back any punches aimed at the unlucky.

The office was a medium sized room with a desk that was far too large. It was clearly a display by his uncle to belittle anyone who faced him, and it had a collection of suspicious crusty stains on the edges. Holding his plate in his left hand, Tyreth, pulled a curtain from the window and draped it over the desk. It may have had a nice collection of dust on it, but he would not eat with a clear view of his uncles fun and that of the whites he had fucked on the desk. Glancing up to where Cordelia was, he motioned her into the room before speaking, "Close thd door and speak not a word of this to anyone."