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Description
~ STORY CHRONOLOGY ~

Previously: Dick's and Jim's business plans | Mike's injury

“Sorry for the delay! What did I miss?” With a heavy sigh, Dick sank on the plastic chair, lifted his arms and leaned back. The fine rib vest showed clear signs that he had been working until just now.

“Nothing yet. Smalltalk,” Jim murmured, casting a disapproving, slightly embarrassed glance to his friend. He was cut short by a smack to the chin by the toddler on his lap - another unfortunate addition to what was supposed to be an important business meeting. His morning had been rather lax - Mike’s injury a month ago had diminished his string of horses to ride, and urgent phone calls were settled quickly - so the task of babysitting had been put on him. Now he was stuck with the kid, and to be frank; inviting a very rich, very important person and then having a baby fling pens at them does not make for the perfect first impression. Add the other business partner being late and not exactly dressed to the occasion… underneath a confident facade, Jim was sweating.

“You’re three minutes late.” Cherbourg did not lift his head from his wrist watch’s sweep hand. “Three minutes and eleven seconds, to be precise.” Even if there had been the slightest hint of an accusation hidden in Cherbourg’s remark, Dick would have gladly ignored it anyways.

He reached for the leftover stack of papers that contained the contract, as well as one of the pens. “Anyways, I’m here now, where do I have to sign this?”

“Easy now, don’t you want to know what you’re signing first?”

Dick blushed and put the pen down. Wow, what a great first impression as a capable business partner he’d made!

Jim shifted himself and the unruly toddler on the white monobloc and then cleared his throat. “So, um, Mr Cherbourg, I assume you already got all of the info, but maybe we can go over it again, just so, y’know, we’re all on the same page?” He ended the sentence with a fraction of the confidence he’d had at the beginning, and glanced to Dick for some reassurance.

Dick nodded. “Yes, let’s talk business!” A sentence he had always wanted to use.

“Your addresses are correct, I assume? Then we can go on to the more important part.” Cherbourg turned the page. “Articles two to five define the purpose of the syndicate. I think that should be clear so far. Then article six is about the ownership of the bred foals.”

Dick quickly counted the pages. “Uuuhm, I think page 4 is missing. For me at least?”

“Uh, lemme check,” Jim said, already feeling Cherbourg’s piercing gaze from across the table. He flicked through the stack of paper in front of him, but couldn’t find the missing page - when he realized that the scrap paper that the baby was chewing on was the document he was searching for. Smiling awkwardly at his opposite, he wrung the drool-drenched page 4 from the child’s grasp and passed it to Dick.

“So, yes, basically, we were thinking about building a bigger breeding department up here, but not exclusively? Depending on where we board our mares, we could… ah, I’m getting ahead of myself. The thing is that, for a larger-scale operation, we lack the funds to get the ball rolling, if you know what I mean -”

Cherbourg took his time before he answered. “I know what you mean. But what’s in it for me, what do you bring to the table? If I invest my money and let you use my best horses - whose breeding fees and foals might go for prices in the upper range - where is my benefit?”
Jim looked to Dick again, caught off-guard by the question. “Uh, the same would go for you too - we have Connelly and Front Line, who are proven breeding stallions with marketable offspring, some young stallions just waiting to prove themselves, Greyjoy’s son Toulouse, or Curtain Call, or an Estoy grandson who already wows the young horse classes… and our broodmares are pretty neat as well...”

“On top of that we can offer you expertise both in breeding as well as training and showing horses. James and I would know which horses would make perfect matches. You can’t just put two horses together and hope that the foal is gonna be a superstar.”

A grin spread on Jim’s face, positively surprised about the change in Dick’s attitude. “Yeah, you need knowledge about the horses, their strengths and weaknesses, what you hope to improve on,” he added, nodding excitedly. “This is something an outsider of the industry can’t learn so quickly.”

“James has an incredible eye for recognizing talent,” Dick concluded. “And I, uh, I can ride?”

“Bullshit, you won two of the five star classes at Spruce Meadows last time, back to back!”

“I did, but only because you realized that Coppola and I would make a great team and gave us the chance to prove it! You have an eye for such things. I did my best to make your vision and beliefs a reality!” He grinned widely.

“Think of it that way,” Jim turned to Cherbourg again, tapping his hand on the table. “You have a well-functioning, lucrative operation, we have a well-functioning, lucrative operation. If we combine our assets, our horses, our riders - it can only be for the best. We have a greater pool from which to form pairs with the most potential. We have connections to good friends who breed up in Canada, and…” he halted for a moment, “we might even expand to France sometime soon. We may be young, but we’ve seen some shit. - Excuse my french.”

Cherbourg gave James a long, penetrating gaze. Dick was not sure what went on in his sponsor’s mind and he would have given so much to get a look inside of it. After what had felt like an eternity, Cherbourg finally nodded and only then Dick realized that he had held his breath.

“I value a good partnership that all parties can profit from. It’s just… unusual to make good business opportunities on plastic chairs. But as unconventional as it may be, what matters is that your concept convinced me.”

If he hadn’t had a toddler on his lap, Jim might’ve jumped from his seat in excitement. At a moment’s notice, his confidence was back with a vengeance. “Awesome!” he exclaimed. “Trust me, I intend to go big on this thing.”

“So, can I sign this now?” Dick grinned.

Jim took his pen out of the toddler’s sticky hands and wiped it on his jeans.

“You can sign this now.”

Next: Caddy in Sopot

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

YEH so I'm still extremely busy on the diploma film and that isn't gonna change anytime soon, but we still have some backlogged collabs we finished ages ago that we finally got around to do the story for. BUCKLE UP LADS; THE TCC SYNDICATE IS AFLOAT
I'm so excited for this! It's always a blast to plan and plot with Fibo and now we get to plan foals as well and it's all just MUAH.

And I know the only thing you wanna know is "WHO IS THAT BABY AND WHOSE" and I'm sorry that's classified information S:

Featuring ltr: James Crosby , de bebe, Dick Turs , MR Cherbourg
Sketch/lines done by me, awesome colouring and shading done by Fibonacho
Art(c) by FibSho Entertainment, used various pose refs, might collect them soonish if neccessary

Description
~ STORY CHRONOLOGY ~

Previously: Dick's and Jim's business plans | Mike's injury

“Sorry for the delay! What did I miss?” With a heavy sigh, Dick sank on the plastic chair, lifted his arms and leaned back. The fine rib vest showed clear signs that he had been working until just now.

“Nothing yet. Smalltalk,” Jim murmured, casting a disapproving, slightly embarrassed glance to his friend. He was cut short by a smack to the chin by the toddler on his lap - another unfortunate addition to what was supposed to be an important business meeting. His morning had been rather lax - Mike’s injury a month ago had diminished his string of horses to ride, and urgent phone calls were settled quickly - so the task of babysitting had been put on him. Now he was stuck with the kid, and to be frank; inviting a very rich, very important person and then having a baby fling pens at them does not make for the perfect first impression. Add the other business partner being late and not exactly dressed to the occasion… underneath a confident facade, Jim was sweating.

“You’re three minutes late.” Cherbourg did not lift his head from his wrist watch’s sweep hand. “Three minutes and eleven seconds, to be precise.” Even if there had been the slightest hint of an accusation hidden in Cherbourg’s remark, Dick would have gladly ignored it anyways.

He reached for the leftover stack of papers that contained the contract, as well as one of the pens. “Anyways, I’m here now, where do I have to sign this?”

“Easy now, don’t you want to know what you’re signing first?”

Dick blushed and put the pen down. Wow, what a great first impression as a capable business partner he’d made!

Jim shifted himself and the unruly toddler on the white monobloc and then cleared his throat. “So, um, Mr Cherbourg, I assume you already got all of the info, but maybe we can go over it again, just so, y’know, we’re all on the same page?” He ended the sentence with a fraction of the confidence he’d had at the beginning, and glanced to Dick for some reassurance.

Dick nodded. “Yes, let’s talk business!” A sentence he had always wanted to use.

“Your addresses are correct, I assume? Then we can go on to the more important part.” Cherbourg turned the page. “Articles two to five define the purpose of the syndicate. I think that should be clear so far. Then article six is about the ownership of the bred foals.”

Dick quickly counted the pages. “Uuuhm, I think page 4 is missing. For me at least?”

“Uh, lemme check,” Jim said, already feeling Cherbourg’s piercing gaze from across the table. He flicked through the stack of paper in front of him, but couldn’t find the missing page - when he realized that the scrap paper that the baby was chewing on was the document he was searching for. Smiling awkwardly at his opposite, he wrung the drool-drenched page 4 from the child’s grasp and passed it to Dick.

“So, yes, basically, we were thinking about building a bigger breeding department up here, but not exclusively? Depending on where we board our mares, we could… ah, I’m getting ahead of myself. The thing is that, for a larger-scale operation, we lack the funds to get the ball rolling, if you know what I mean -”

Cherbourg took his time before he answered. “I know what you mean. But what’s in it for me, what do you bring to the table? If I invest my money and let you use my best horses - whose breeding fees and foals might go for prices in the upper range - where is my benefit?”
Jim looked to Dick again, caught off-guard by the question. “Uh, the same would go for you too - we have Connelly and Front Line, who are proven breeding stallions with marketable offspring, some young stallions just waiting to prove themselves, Greyjoy’s son Toulouse, or Curtain Call, or an Estoy grandson who already wows the young horse classes… and our broodmares are pretty neat as well...”

“On top of that we can offer you expertise both in breeding as well as training and showing horses. James and I would know which horses would make perfect matches. You can’t just put two horses together and hope that the foal is gonna be a superstar.”

A grin spread on Jim’s face, positively surprised about the change in Dick’s attitude. “Yeah, you need knowledge about the horses, their strengths and weaknesses, what you hope to improve on,” he added, nodding excitedly. “This is something an outsider of the industry can’t learn so quickly.”

“James has an incredible eye for recognizing talent,” Dick concluded. “And I, uh, I can ride?”

“Bullshit, you won two of the five star classes at Spruce Meadows last time, back to back!”

“I did, but only because you realized that Coppola and I would make a great team and gave us the chance to prove it! You have an eye for such things. I did my best to make your vision and beliefs a reality!” He grinned widely.

“Think of it that way,” Jim turned to Cherbourg again, tapping his hand on the table. “You have a well-functioning, lucrative operation, we have a well-functioning, lucrative operation. If we combine our assets, our horses, our riders - it can only be for the best. We have a greater pool from which to form pairs with the most potential. We have connections to good friends who breed up in Canada, and…” he halted for a moment, “we might even expand to France sometime soon. We may be young, but we’ve seen some shit. - Excuse my french.”

Cherbourg gave James a long, penetrating gaze. Dick was not sure what went on in his sponsor’s mind and he would have given so much to get a look inside of it. After what had felt like an eternity, Cherbourg finally nodded and only then Dick realized that he had held his breath.

“I value a good partnership that all parties can profit from. It’s just… unusual to make good business opportunities on plastic chairs. But as unconventional as it may be, what matters is that your concept convinced me.”

If he hadn’t had a toddler on his lap, Jim might’ve jumped from his seat in excitement. At a moment’s notice, his confidence was back with a vengeance. “Awesome!” he exclaimed. “Trust me, I intend to go big on this thing.”

“So, can I sign this now?” Dick grinned.

Jim took his pen out of the toddler’s sticky hands and wiped it on his jeans.

“You can sign this now.”

Next: Caddy in Sopot

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

YEH so I'm still extremely busy on the diploma film and that isn't gonna change anytime soon, but we still have some backlogged collabs we finished ages ago that we finally got around to do the story for. BUCKLE UP LADS; THE TCC SYNDICATE IS AFLOAT
I'm so excited for this! It's always a blast to plan and plot with Fibo and now we get to plan foals as well and it's all just MUAH.

And I know the only thing you wanna know is "WHO IS THAT BABY AND WHOSE" and I'm sorry that's classified information S:

Featuring ltr: James Crosby , de bebe, Dick Turs , MR Cherbourg
Sketch/lines done by me, awesome colouring and shading done by Fibonacho
Art(c) by FibSho Entertainment, used various pose refs, might collect them soonish if neccessary