BuildnShare wrote: »
You sent Rose home early to beat the storm. You didn’t want him out in that, but you had some loose ends to clean up - or rather, you had models and sketches and a mess to clean up! You looked back over your design ideas and smile. You’ve always loved making a difference in people’s lives, the look on their faces when they see it… makes all the headaches worth it!
The wind was shaking the windows when you finally decided it was time to head home yourself. You gathered your things and turned out the lights, pulling your coat tight around you as you stepped outside and turned to lock up.
When you turned back around, you nearly jumped out of your skin! There was a figure looming over you in the darkness, seemingly materialized out of the fog.
“Good evening,” he says, voice smooth as velvet.
“G-good evening,” you manage to get out.
“I have not come at a bad time, have I?” the gentleman says.
“Bad time? Oh… no no, I was-” well you were just locking up to go home but does that really constitute ‘bad time’?
“I am glad. I apologize I could not have been here sooner.”
Well, you suppose staying a little later wouldn’t hurt, and you’d rather not stand out here so you unlock the door and escape from the elements. Oddly, your visitor does not follow you in.
“Please, do come in,” you say.
He smiles broadly as he steps inside. You aren’t entirely sure but it seems like his teeth are just a little… longer than average.
Shaking off your coat, you hang it back up and turn the lights on again. Now that you’re able to get a better look at your guest he seems far less looming than outside. You note the piercing eyes, the impeccable if somewhat outdated dress. He does not seem the least beaten by the storm, unlike yourself you’re sure.
“Won’t you sit down?” you ask, motioning to the conference table.
“Thank you,” he says, taking a seat. You can’t quite place the accent, but it seems familiar.
“Now, what can I do for you, Mr…?”
“Ah, you may call me Seth.”
“Well, Mr. Seth, what can I do for you?”
“I am in need of a new residence,” he says. “My current will soon be- ah- uninhabitable. So I will need it quickly, by the end of the month and no later.”
“Of course, we often work on a tight schedule,” you say, though find his choice of words very odd.
“Good, I appreciate that,” he says. “But I require very particular details in my residence.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” you assure him, slipping easily back into your professional mode. “We have catered to a wide variety of needs.”
“Then what I am after is a subterranean residence, entirely below ground except for what must necessarily be above to access it.”
“Oh, that’s very do-able,” you say. “We can add skylights or-”
He cuts you off so forcefully you jump slightly in your seat.
“I apologize,” he quickly adds. “I just- no skylights. I, uh, value my privacy. I do not wish anyone to be able to see inside. Under any circumstances. No skylights, window wells, nothing. Please.”
“Very well,” you say. “There are plenty of lighting options.”
He relaxes again.
“I value my privacy, so a good fence around the property is a must. But I will need space for entertaining,” he says. “I host events every month.”
“Oh?” That seems interesting. “What kind of events?”
“Exclusive events. Very exclusive.”
“No, I mean…football parties, book club, art shows-”
“Yes! Art, that’s it,” he says, as if taking a conveniently offered excuse and running with it. “Very exclusive art showings. With necar. There will need to be a bar.”
“Okay.” You write that down but this is a very odd client! “And beyond that, is it just you? Just one bedroom or…?”
“Yes, only me. The usual parts of a house, yes. All that. But no mirrors!”
“No mirrors.” You jot down a few more notes. “Well, I think the only thing left is the cost-”
“Here is your payment,” he says, handing you a cashier’s check for… a great deal more than you were about to tell him you needed. You do not ask any questions.
“Well Mr. Seth, I think you’ll be very happy with your new place.”
“I hope so,” he says as he stands up. “After all, just cause I’m dead doesn’t mean I can’t have a life!”
You laugh. Then the words sink in and you stop, but suddenly notice he is no longer standing there. Or, anywhere. You look back at the cashier’s check in your hand and shrug. Well, you’ve done weirder.
Design an entirely subterranean home except what must be above ground for access.
No natural lighting of any kind.
One bedroom minimum.
All the usual residential spaces.
Room for entertaining an exclusive group of people.
An easel, and a bar.