Loans and Death [Esme]

[Peter Parkman]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

<Esme> The small woman staired anxiously around as she looked for the man she was supposed to be meeting. She felt absolutly horrible. How sad was her life that she had to ask for a loan from someone she had only talked to over E-Mail? But she needed the money. Her 2000 Chevy Caviler's trasmisson was slipping, and she couldn't afford a new car. So here she was. She smoothed the front of her sweater while she waited.


<Peter Parkman> The logistics of giving away money, Peter had realised, wasn't as easy as he thought it would be. In order to give away money, one has to know people who need it. And Peter Parkman's number of acquaintances was quite low. His family thought he was bragging - when in all honesty, he really didn't want the money. He thought it could go toward better causes. And thus the newest venture had been born. Not so much a business, because he never really much intended to make any money back. He'd helped a few people with small things, and tonight's meeting was no different. He just liked to meet those who he gave money to, to make sure they weren't lying and just wanted to support some kind of drug habit. He smoothed his hands over his suit and entered the mall, steeling himself for bombardment. He didn't like crowds. Not one bit. But at least it wasn't as busy as it could have been. He found the cafe that was agreed upon, and approached the only red-head he could see. "Esme?" he asked, tentatively, voice deep and eyes curious.

[Attire]

[Esme (DELETED 6099)]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

<Esme> Her blue eyes looked up to him as she quickly stood, extending a small, pale hand. "Yes, sir. I am Esme Shepard. Thank you for meeting with me this quickly." She noticed how fancy he was dressed and felt ashamed that she was only wearing her best sweater and jeans. Esme wasn't just embarassed about her state of dress, she was also wary. In her back pocket was a canaster of mace incase this guy tried anything funny.


<Peter Parkman> Peter dressed up for these meetings. Mainly because he didn't want his clients to think he was a criminal, or a dodgy character. Not that criminals couldn't dress up nicely - Peter knew this first-hand. But regardless, it was best to make a good first impression. Peter's own hand was cold in comparison to Esme's--a fact he couldn't hide. But the weather was cold outside, too, so it would be easily explained. "Peter, but you know that already," he said with a smile that was not smarmy, but welcoming. He sat down opposite Esme and pulled a few sheets of paper out of his satchel. "This is the kind of thing I exist for. For those emergency situations, where there's nowhere else to turn," he said, pushing the forms into the middle of the table. "These are just a formality, really - just to make sure everything is legal and above board..."

[Esme (DELETED 6099)]

Shivering at the touch of his hand, she considered herself lucky she had been inside for the last hour, out of the cold. Weather man said even more snow tonight, lovely. She should have been born a desert family. This cold **** was for the birds. Her hand released his and she used her now free hand to tuck some of her curly red hair behind her ear, the unruly mess rarely obeyed her. It mocked her really. It looked like a fuzzy fire ball short though, so she suffered though its length. She sat after he did, and then looked over the documents that emerged from his satchel. "What is your interest rate?" she asked, looking back up to him before returning her eyes to the paper. She needed to know how badly she was screwing herself before she signed the agreement. She would sign it nonetheless, she had absolutely no choice unless she wished to lose her job due to being unable to commute, and thus lose her apartment. She had lived in her car before, but with no car she would really be on the streets, but with her car, none of that had to happen. So whatever the overall cost, it was worth it. At least she kept telling herself that. Truth was she could always use the loaned money to buy another car. Nothing new or fancy, but at least something more reliable than Leo. But Leo was her baby. A Chevy Caviler circa 2000. An ancient old man, but he was her's and he had stuck with her though everything. He was loyal, and that mattered to Esme. Esme just couldn't always return his loyalty with the attention he need. Was she crazy for giving a personality to her car? She didn't think so. Or at least didn't think that was the reason she was crazy. But who wanted to be normal? That's boring.

[Peter Parkman]

Peter knew this question would come up. He knew that he had to have answers, and that he couldn’t respond like someone who didn’t know what they were doing. He cleared his throat and rounded his shoulders as he shook his head.

”I’m not a shark. I’m not interested in ripping anyone off. I don’t want to call this a charity, because there are stubborn people out there who won’t take charity. I have other businesses that keep me afloat, and I have money that I am doing nothing with. I’d prefer that it be used to help the local economy than sit in a bank account. I will lend you the amount that you require. You will pay me back in increments that, in the end, will not exceed the original borrowed amount,” Peter said.

In the end, he wanted only to be able to give people money and they could pay him back only for the amount borrowed. He didn’t know what he would do if someone failed to pay him back. Perhaps, then, he would consider it charity. Or, he would impose a better screening process. His arms crossed and leaned against the wood of the table in front of him.

”How much are you looking to borrow? And for what reason?”