My Fair Ninja

September 17, 2017:

Rand Enterprises hires a specialist named Emery Papsworth to help young Danny Rand develop into the CEO butterfly they want him to be. Its not the introduction Danny is expecting. Emery gets a job, Danny gets compared to a homeless person…the start of a wonderful partnership.

New York - 19 Gramercy Park South

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions:

Plot:

Mood Music: None.


Fade In…

Danny Rand lives in the house he grew up in. As befits a billionaire New Yorker, said house is not some quaint split level with a big back yard, it's 19 Gramercy Park South. It's an 18,000 square foot, 37 room multi-level building in the middle of Manhattan. Until recently it was the home of Joy Meachum, the daughter of his father's business associate. When Danny returned from the dead and took up the helm of Rand Industries, things got complicated. Joy gave Danny the house back on the condition that if he was going to stay as CEO, that he would make a true effort to represent the company well and learn the business.
One of the ways of meeting the condition was to hire help. Joy sent out feelers to find someone who could teach Danny etiquette and social niceties that befits a man of his net worth.
It certainly couldn't hurt to get him to dress better either.
Since moving into the house a few weeks ago, Danny has only used a small portion of it. It's more space than one man could possibly ever need, but it's filled with connections to his past.
. Most of the rooms are closed up tightly. He hasn't even looked in about 30 of the 37 rooms. The bedroom nearest the kitchen on the ground floor does him well enough. He's currently sitting lotus pose on a mat in front of one of the grand fireplaces. It's too early for it to be lit, but it still functions as a focal point for meditation. He's barefoot, wearing loose, cheap clothing (an oversized t-shirt and sweat pants) his hair and facial hair a bit scraggly. He looks far more like a squatter than a billionaire CEO.
One of the Rand staffers who buys Danny's groceries lets Emery in through the front door. "Do you want me to introduce you, or do you want to just introduce yourself?" she asks.

*

When he received the call about this particular job, it took him a moment to process exactly who was hiring him. He has the recommendations and the certifications and such to have quite the impressive resume so making it this far isn't usually hard. Next is the hard step, making contact. Emery Papsworth follows after the Rand staffer, the Irishman's hair has been pulled back in a neat man-bun, and he's got a hint of stubble shadowing his jawline in a way that almost looks groomed. He wears a pair of black tailored slacks, stylish shiny dark grey dress shoes, white button-down shirt and a black vest, a dark grey blazer tossed on over it all.

He spent a few days doing research on his new charge, shaking his head slowly as he scribbled away in a special notebook purchased for this new assignment and when he enters the home he carries a black carrying case not unlike an old-fashioned doctor's bag, just a little larger, and a paper shopping bag his head against his chest/side and he clears his throat. "Ah…let him know I'll be in the kitchen, give him a bit of a heads up, hm?" He gestures in a certain direction. "The kitchen's that way?" If he gets confirmation he'll head in that direction with a wink and a smile, his accent is 100 proof of his origin today, vowels rounded and tones lilting.

*

Danny's story is definitely an odd one. He survived the plane crash that killed his parents and spent over a decade before making it back. The prevailing theory is that he was held captive somewhere - what else would explain it? - but he denies that's the case. But, he also doesn't have a good answer about why it took him so long to come home. It's part of the reason that no one believed his identity at first.
The kitchen is as opulent as one would expect, but also up-to-date. Joy renovated when she moved in. Emery will get a good ten minutes or so by himself to find his way around. There's muffled voices on the other side of the wall where he's speaking to the staffer. Then there's the sound of the front door closing as she exits.
Then, a scruffy head peeks around the edge of the doorway. The oversized shirt makes him look younger and smaller than he actually is. He just kind of looks for a moment, brow furrowed.

*

The Irish Butler has time to remove his blazer and get that hung up somewhere, unbutton his cuffs and roll up his sleeves exposing the parts of the tattoos on his forearms. He's also set that doctor's bag case aside and started to unpack the grocery bag he has purchased. There seems to be alot of of apples, potatoes, sausages things like that. But he leaves out apples, cream, flour and other baking ingredients setting things in special order.

He's ties on an apron and looks up when that scruffy head pokes around the corner and he arches an eyebrow slowly as he takes in the young man. "…well, dun just stand there. Come in 'ere and get yer hands washed. I need someone to get these apples cut up." He turns to set about 6 apples in a bowl near the sink and slips a knife free of a block, setting it down beside the bowl. "Are ye one of those types that only eat grass and tink eatin' animals is a cardinal sin? I tink they call them vegan?"

*

There's another long pause. If you were generous, you'd call it thoughtful, but Danny seems to not be quite able to parse what's going on. "I thought you were some kind of…coach or something. Why do you have groceries?" He steps a little further in, bare feet slapping on the immaculately clean floor. Either he's a neat freak, or staff cleans the place. You can probably guess which by his personal grooming. "I eat what food is presented to me. To do otherwise would be an insult."

*

"A coach? Pshaw…nah. Its more that the people who run the company that ye apparently own tink you look like an scruffy gobshite and are embarrassed to be seen with ye. So they hired me." Emery nods back towards the sink. "Ahhh, I get it. Ye dun /know/ how to peel apples? Too used to the people around 'ere doin' everyting for ye? I completely understand sir."

The Irishman tsks softly as he measures flour into a large glass bowl, with the salt and then starts cutting shortening into the mixture. Fingers pinching and sprinkling and hands slicing and measuring with practiced ease. "Emery Papsworth, professional Butler. It's me job to make ye look less homeless or clueless.

*

Danny looks a little insulted at the 'don't know how' comment. He walks forward, pulls a knife from the butcher block, then picks up the apple. He sets the blade against the top and spins the apple around, divesting it neatly of its skin. A pastry chef couldn't do better. "I thought butlers…" he says as he picks up another apple, "…bring food and dress people and wear like…tails." The second apple follows the first. He handles the knife with ease and confidence.

*

"Aye, some do. Some follow behind their charges sayin' yes sir and no sir and how would ye like yer tea sir. But m' pretty sure alll these mysterious years where ye were missin' ye didn't have a man in a fancy suit cookin' all your meals and giving ye sponge baths." Emery replies as he works through the dough with a fork as he pours in water slowly, shrugging his shoulders but he does note the ease of peeling the apple with a small nod to himself.

The Irishman, continues to work the dough as it comes together in a ball then he's dividing it into separate portions. "So why would I start out the first hour of our relationship by doubting your capabilities? Ye 'ave enough people in your life who already are doin' that."

*

It doesn't take long before the apples are peeled. Apparently they had KP duty in K'un L'un. He watches Emery, as if he was sharp enough to pick up much from watching him. "They're not wrong," he says after a few moments. "I don't know how business works. But I remember how my father related to people, and he didn't do it the way Ward and Joy do." Ah, the nostalgia goggles of a child blinded by love.

*

The dough is slipped into the ice box as he listens to Danny speak. "Well were you at business college while ye were missing?" Emery asks with a soft chuckle. "How are ye supposed to know how a business works." He tsks and then moves to get the bowl of apples, nodding to Danny. "Thank ye kindly sir."

He pulls out a tool, also known as an apple corer and works on coring the apples as he continues the conversation. "So, Mr Rand, tell me. What kinda business do ye want to run? How do ye want to relate to people?"

*

Danny rinses off the paring knife and returns it to the block. Maybe some of the neatness around here is his doing. He also sweeps the apple peels into a compost bin. "I don't know. I just know my father would want me to run it. And to do it in a way that doesn't hurt people." A simplistic view, to be sure. But he has admitted that the whole thing stymies him. "And it's Danny. I don't like formalities."

*

A small smile shows a hint of dimples as the Irishman spins around smoothly to retrieve the dough from the ice box after the apples are cored. And he cleans as he moves as well, Emery murmurs a quiet thank you after each thing that Danny does. And he spreads out wax paper sheets and places the dough between two sheets as he starts rolling out the portions. "Very well Mr Danny then." He leans against the counter for a moment leveling a look at Danny. "And did yer father ever show up to work lookin' like he smokes weed and possibly sleeps in the garbage? Or did he 'ave a brand, did he present in a certain way?"

*

Danny frowns. It's a serious frown. "I only went to the office dressed like this once." A head-wobble. "Twice. But that time was an emergency. I have suits." He thumbs over his shoulder towards his bedroom. "They're tailored." Then, "I really look like I sleep in garbage?"

*

"Ye dun look like a CEO of a multi-billionaire company. No." Emery offers honestly. Somehow he's started to place an apple in a square of pastry and bringing the edges up and around the apple before moving to the next apples, bending down to focus on the task at hand. "We 'ave to work on your Brand. If ye could do anyting with your money, anyting at all. Right now. Ye can drop a million dollars on a cause, what would it be?"

*

"I already have. I gave money to an affordable housing initiative. And Joy is looking at turning an old Rand building for a closed division into a…" he snaps his finger as he tries to remember the term. "Tech…incubator." He clearly doesn't really understand what that means, but he said he wanted to do something good with the building. A tech incubator plays well with the Rand brand, so it's a savvy choice. Too bad he didn't come up with it.

*

Emery blinks a few times and looks up to just stare at Danny for a moment, opening his mouth and closing it. "And 'ave ye done a press conference yet about why ye are givin' money to this affordable housing initiative?" He's checking the temperature of the pre-heated oven before sliding his apple dumplings in on a tray and he moves to start cleaning up the pastry mess. "Do people know that givin' the money to the affordable housing initiative was yer idea and the reason why ye are donating to it?"

*

"No," says Danny a bit dumbly. "Why would I do that? A good deed becomes less of a good deed if you make a point of telling everyone about it. Then it becomes about you. I've also agreed to not do press conferences unless they vet every word out of my mouth. And the things they ask me to say aren't always the whole truth." He watches the process of apple dumplings with some interest, but doesn't ask questions. He's good at learning by observation.

*

"…Oh Danny…Danny boyo…" Emery exhales softly. "Ye do realize that ye are essentially yer company's bitch right? They do not respect ye and without respect, ye 'ave little of no power." He turns and places his hands on his hips, taking a deep breath. "How does it make ye feel when they have to vet every word that comes out of yer mouth?"

*

Danny tenses at the 'bitch' line and works his jaw to the side. "They don't trust me. But I think Joy honestly wants to protect the company. It's not her fault that it's not the way I would have run things." Which is really hard to say. A Danny Rand who grew up in his father's company likely would have learned to make compromises long ago. Instead, he grew up in a world of black and white, good versus evil - in a world where honor was paramount.

*

"Mm." Emery is making a sauce of some sort with brown sugar and butter and he just shakes his head slowly. "So, ye are content to let them run the company and ye just want to show up when ye absolutely 'ave to as the face of the company, sayin' whatever they want ye to say and then retirin' back to yer hidey hole until they need ye again?" He holds up a hand, and he tones is not accusatory just inquisitive. "No judgement if that is what ye want. But they told me they need ye to look and act like a CEO, and I cannae do that…unless I know what kind of a man ye really are. Because that's the kind of CEO you will need to be."

*

"No…" That one syllable is a little…well, not whiny, but close. Danny draws in a sharp breath. "They just don't want me to tank the stock by saying the wrong thing. I need to learn how to do this, and it makes sense that I play by their rules until I figure things out. Because I'm going to need to rely on someone to start."

*

"Well then. How do ye plan to figure tings out? Because I've seen royalty's entire lives ran by people without titles all because the people in the background know more about tings than they do. And that's fine. But if ye dun just want to be a glorified sock puppet, ye have to have a plan." Emery nods firmly, slowly stirring the sauce and nodding towards the fridge. "I've got some fresh cream in tere, be a good lad if ye would sir and fetch it for me?"

Stir, stir, stir. "So? Have ye started reading up on yer company, studyin' acquisitions and holdings and all that?"

*

That's a good question. Especially when Danny is more inclined to seek out causes of corruption and punch them in the face rather than figure out acquisitions and holdings. "I'm not royalty," he replies. Sure, he's just returned out of the blue and felt entitled to take back control of the company his father built. He walks over to the fridge and tugs it open, retrieving the cream.
He's certainly not the kind of rich kid Emery was likely expecting. One who doesn't rankle over mundane tasks and seems to know the meaning of work. But he's still certainly a challenge in a different way. He sets the cream down on the counter and then leans on it. "I've tried, but it's confusing and it keeps changing. Nearly every day we're selling or acquiring something."

*

"Well, translate the patterns into somethin' that ye do understand. What is a hobby or skill that ye enjoy taking time to practice?" Emery asks as he wipes his hands off and moves back to the fridge to find the strawberries and he places it on the counter, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the counter and plucking a strawberry and he nods towards the cream, dipping his own strawberry in it. "Life /is/ change. It doesn't stay day and it doesn't stay night. So translate it into somethin' that ye do understand."

*

Danny really doesn't like to lie. In fact, he has a hard time being anything other than absolutely straightforward and frank with nearly everyone he meets. He's starting to realize though, bit by bit, that knowing more about him can put people in danger. So he bites his tongue. Instead, he says, "I fight. I meditate." Because if this man is going to be coming into his home, he's going to see both. And then, sheepishly, "I don't really have hobbies."

*

"Eastern or Western Martial Arts?" Emery asks easily enough, idly toying with a strawberry as he studies Danny more closely now, tilting his head to the side. "Now, take an ever changing stock and translate it to fightin' or meditation." He gestures at Danny with the strawberry. "And we'll work on the hobby ting."

*

Danny thinks for a moment before speaking. He's very easy to read even for someone not skilled in these things. He takes a moment when he's unsure or withholding, and speaks quickly and plainly otherwise. "Eastern," he says finally. His impulse was to formally recount the styles he knows and his competency as if a master had asked. He is slowly learning to curb those particular impulses. "I'm not sure if that applies. Stocks are things that represent money and opinion and the fickleness and herd instinct of human beings. It's a meaningless construct. I don't fight meaningless constructs, and meditation teaches me to put aside things that have no greater meaning."

*

"Wrong. Eastern Martial Arts are big on the Elements are they not? Each element and each season shifts into the other, tings are always changing. Ye see it as a meaningless construct but its not. So, try again. Analyze the changes of stocks like ye would analyze a fight. Can ye predict every move your opponent is goin' to make?" Emery asks bluntly, shaking his head a bit.

*

"But an element is the creation of something greater than humanity. Stocks are the creation of human beings," Danny counters. But he sucks in a breath and tries to follow along anyway. "I can't predict the stock because a stock is fickle. I've heard of a stock losing half its value because someone heard from their aunt's sister that the key inventor of a product sneezed and might get sick during an important point of R&D."

*

"Stocks are the reflection of human behavior. A mirror of the unpredictable and fickle nature of humanity." Emery counters with a lift of an eyebrow. "And I've seen a man start a fight in the pub because someone told him that his aunt's sister was found in the butcher's back stock room wit' the man he was about to beat down. But he lost teh fight because they waited until he was 5 pints in to tell him." He waves a hand vaguely. "But Stocks is just a tiny piece, ye really just need to know what ye company owns. So focus on the acquisitions for now, treat it like new katas being taught to yer company or someting like that. Figure it out. Can ye do that lad? It will take time, but its a place to start." He pushes off from the counter, setting the strawberry aside. "In the meantime, we 'ave to discuss yer image."

*

Danny is trying to listen and take in what Emery is saying mostly because no one has tried to explain it using his own frame of reference. It still seems meaningless and impenetrable to him, but he's given him something to think about. He hooks his foot around a stool and sits at the counter. "My image?" asks the kid in ill-fitting clothes and scraggly hair. "I told you, I wear suits to the office."

*

"Tailored suits…but ye need to wear presentable clothin' even when ye are not in the office. And do you have suits that ye like? What kind of clothin' do ye actually like or do not like?" Emery asks, moving to check on the dumplings with a squint before nodding and going back to the sauce.

*

"Like?" again, Danny has to think about it. He wore different colored robes for the past decade as he moved up in rank. It was never a personal choice, it was purely a matter of utility. After a moment of thinking he settles on, "Comfortable. Easy. I don't like anything too stiff or something I can't move in." What's the point of a jacket where you can't have a full range of motion to a fighter? Doesn't matter how nice the lines are.

*

"Okay…so lets go wit' silk and linen and cotton…say ye care about the environment or some shite and we'll order ye some tings from some fair trade companies. How are ye wit' jeans?" Emery asks crossing his arms over his chest as he studies Danny more closely now.

*

"I do care about the environment," says Danny with such earnestness that it is a bit hard to take him seriously. He's rather like the kid who got back from backpacking through Southeast Asia and thinks he's found enlightenment. His reality is, of course, harsher than that, and his attitude is less arrogance and more a sheltered upbringing. Still. "Jeans are OK. If they're not too tight." Again, range of motion seems to be his priority.

*

"Of course ye do…" Emery nods slowly and then turns to get oven mitts and to check on his dumplings with a soft chuckle. "And loose fitted jeans that are flatterin' but not too tight. As much as hipsters make me want to punch them in their scraggly bearded faces, I tink that look on the Asian influenced tip will work for ye." He sighs softly. "And ye are goin' to have to get shirts that actually /fit/."

*

Danny touches his own scraggly beard self-consciously, though his is neither dramatically scraggly or strategically sculpted enough to be deemed hipster. "I didn't realize this was going to be a makeover. I thought you were going to teach me about handshakes and what a committee chair does."

*

"I've got a folder of instructions about that stuff. I'll leave you some study notes. We'll also go over meal etiquette, silverware placement…party etiquette and all of those tings." Emery promises, his food cooking in Comic Universe time as he pulls the dumplings out and sets the tray/dish aside to let the baked apple pastries cool down a bit and he pulls off his oven mitts. "So, I'll ask ye this. And if ye say no and dun want it, I'll serve ye these dumplings, clean up, pack up and walk right out these doors. Do ye want me help?"

*

All of that sounds odious to Danny to the point where he grimaces a little. But he's done more trying chores. Besides, he could almost visibly see Joy's stress level reduce when he agreed to do this. "If you left, they'd just find someone else." A pause, and then he adds, "But I don't hate the way you approach things. And at least you're not just ordering me around." So he is admitting that while he might not want Emery's help, he recognizes the need.

*

"I'll take the not hatin' me approach ting as a good sign." Emery replies with a soft smile and shrug of his shoulders before he checking cabinets to find plates. "Now, out tere…where people can see me, I'll be the consummate assistant and ye 'ave to let me. Open doors for ye, hand you tings the whole nine yards. But in here, if it makes ye more comfortable…I'll let ye help me do tings and teach ye what ye will need to know so those uppercrust corporate big wigs dun see your weaknesses and eat you alive." He wipes his hands off on a towel after setting out a plate for Danny and he offers his hand to Danny. "Emery Papsworth, at yer service. Do we have a deal?"

*

None of this sounds pleasant to Danny. But he could've just taken a generous amount of money and done whatever he wanted with his time. He wanted to take control of Rand. And that means he has to figure out how to play the game. He doesn't like the idea of waiting on people. He doesn't like the idea of learning rules to an unfair game. But like so many other times in his life, he decides to suck it up.
He looks at Emery's hand, "Before we shake…" because that is an agreement he would commit to as seriously as a contract, "…I don't want to lie. I'm terrible at it, for one. I'm learning how to withhold, but I won't lie."

*

The hands remains outstretched as he regards Danny quietly and just gives a small nod. "Ye dun have to lie and ye also dun have to tell me anyting I don't need to know to do me job." Emery gives him an out. "All I ask if that if ye need me to risk me life for somethin', that ye give me a wee bit of a heads up." But then he falls quiet, just waiting patiently for whatever the young man wishes to share.

*

Nothing, for the moment, it seems. Oh hey, look, someone Danny didn't blurt out 'I'm the Immortal Iron Fist' to. It'll come at some point.
"I just don't want your advice to me to be to lie to shareholders or to the public. Because if that will be your advice, then this won't work." He looks at Emery's hand, then reaches out to shake. He trusts the other man will withdraw his hand if that is indeed what he's thinking.

*

"It's not me job to tell ye what to say. Its just me job to tell the best ways to not make an idiot of yerself." Emery assures the young man, taking the hand and shaking it firmly. "Its up to ye to take the advice or not."

*

Danny's handshake is firm. He shakes for the right amount of time. So he's already doing OK on that front. Then, when his hand drops, he asks with a certain eagerness, "Can we eat those now? Because they smell amazing."

*

Emery squeezes Danny's hand firmly as he returns the shake and nods in quiet approval. Then he throws his head back and laughs when the question of the evening comes out and he nods slowly. "Of course! Of course. Just make sure ye ladle some sauce on there and get a dab of cream." He smiles easily enough and moves to start serving the dumplings. Its the start of an excellent partnership.

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