The Far End of the Causeway, Saturday Morning
"This is the place."
At the words, the Lincoln Town Car slowed to a halt just beside the James T. Kirk Memorial Causeway. "You sure, sir?" asked the driver, turning to look dubiously at the figure in the back seat. "It doesn't look like much."
Anton Mercer chuckled. "That's because you're looking at what you see, not the possibilities. The brochure for the school was intriguing, and given the proclaimed diversity of the student body it might be worth looking into what sort of business opportunities could be available in the town. Besides, I could use a vacation."
The driver adjusted his collar and reached below the dashboard to pull the lever and pop the trunk open. "Where did you say you were from? Reefside?" At Mercer's nod, he continued, "I've heard of it, I think. Not a very big town, is it?"
"Oh, it has a surprisingly developed downtown district. Much bigger than you'd think a town that size ought to have." Mercer chuckled wryly; he'd never figured that one out himself. "But no, not a very big town. Bigger than this island, though. I'll admit I used to wonder what it would be like if I could have sent Trent to a school like this, but . . . looking back I wouldn't have changed any of it."
"He sounds like a good kid, sir," agreed the driver.
"That he is," Mercer assured him. He got out of the car to retrieve his bags, then moved around to the driver's window to hand the man a generous tip that earned a low whistle of surprise. "I'll be here for two or three days at most; you'll hear from me when I'm ready to go home."
The driver grinned and touched two fingertips to his forehead in some sort of salute. "You got it, Mister Mercer. Have a nice trip."
Mercer smiled as he hailed a rickshaw cab to take him into town. "I'm looking forward to it."
[OOC: Establishy only -- he'll be in town later, though.]
At the words, the Lincoln Town Car slowed to a halt just beside the James T. Kirk Memorial Causeway. "You sure, sir?" asked the driver, turning to look dubiously at the figure in the back seat. "It doesn't look like much."
Anton Mercer chuckled. "That's because you're looking at what you see, not the possibilities. The brochure for the school was intriguing, and given the proclaimed diversity of the student body it might be worth looking into what sort of business opportunities could be available in the town. Besides, I could use a vacation."
The driver adjusted his collar and reached below the dashboard to pull the lever and pop the trunk open. "Where did you say you were from? Reefside?" At Mercer's nod, he continued, "I've heard of it, I think. Not a very big town, is it?"
"Oh, it has a surprisingly developed downtown district. Much bigger than you'd think a town that size ought to have." Mercer chuckled wryly; he'd never figured that one out himself. "But no, not a very big town. Bigger than this island, though. I'll admit I used to wonder what it would be like if I could have sent Trent to a school like this, but . . . looking back I wouldn't have changed any of it."
"He sounds like a good kid, sir," agreed the driver.
"That he is," Mercer assured him. He got out of the car to retrieve his bags, then moved around to the driver's window to hand the man a generous tip that earned a low whistle of surprise. "I'll be here for two or three days at most; you'll hear from me when I'm ready to go home."
The driver grinned and touched two fingertips to his forehead in some sort of salute. "You got it, Mister Mercer. Have a nice trip."
Mercer smiled as he hailed a rickshaw cab to take him into town. "I'm looking forward to it."
[OOC: Establishy only -- he'll be in town later, though.]