Sitting in a patio chair towards the front of the shop, the Mogul was going over an inventory list to cover back-stock for the store. Dressed in comfortable black Dickies, sneakers, and a store branded green polo he certainly didn't cut an impressive image.
Johnny parked his bike (motorcycle, that is) outside the shop. He wasn't really dressed to impress. He figured this wasn't really that kind of interview. The uniform that was like a second skin was covered by jeans and t-shirt and leather jacket, a pair of boots on his feet. He wasn't quite sure what this Race guy looked like, but he wasn't too worried about it. He strolled inside and took a look around.
With the little jingle of the store bell, the Mogul lifted his gaze at the man who stepped in. Guessing him to be no older than Race himself he arched a brow and set down the clipboard to stand up. "Yes sir, how can I help you?" Out comes the store drone smile.
Johnny returned the smile, albeit a slightly nervous one despite his reputation for being c*cky. "Yeah, I'm looking for someone named Race. I was told to meet him here."
"He's in back..I'll go and get him. You can have a wait here or follow me to the counter, totally your choice." A nod given along with a friendlier smile he turned on his heel and started walking away towards the check-out counter along the back just near the green house.
"I'll just wait here," Johnny told the man as he wandered away, feeling awkward about following him. He turned and looked around a little while he waited, poking at this or that out of boredom.
The store front looked no different than any other floral shop. Split between Annuals and Perennials, it offered a wide assortment from local flora to more exotic off-world flowers in truly astonishing colors.
"You Johnny?" a man asked as he approached. Looking oddly like the person he met upon entering? save for wearing a bad comb over, eyebrows too bushy to be real, and a mustache that appeared ready to fall off.
Why this Race guy would want to meet him in a flower shop, of all things, was beyond him, but Johnny didn't question it. Startled by the voice, which sounded suspiciously familiar, he pricked his finger on a thorn of some kind and muttered a curse as he turned toward the speaker. Arching a brow as he looked the man over, who was once again seemed familiar. "Uh... yeah..."
"Sorry to startle ya, need a band-aid?" Motions to the pricked finger with the capped styrofoam mug in his right hand. "I'm Race...you're lookin? for a job right?"
Johnny sucked at the blood welling up on his fingertip and gave the man an odd look. "Weren't you just..." He shook his head as if to clear his own head. "No, I'm fine." He offered the man a hand - not the one he'd just pricked. "Johnny Storm."
"Fantastic Four?" Arches an impressed brow at that, taking the offered hand and professionally giving it a shake.
It never ceased to amaze Johnny when people here recognized his name and knew who he was. It also amazed him just as much when they didn't. Sort of a damned if you do and damned if you don't kind of thing. He returned the handshake with a smile. "Yeah, you've heard of us?" If his reputation preceded him, maybe this would go better than he thought.
"I know my way around a comic book." He replied with a grin and turned the large green ring on his right left hand around so the top was towards his palm. "Let?s have a seat over here at the patio display and get down to brass tacks." Motions for Johnny to lead the way... since it?s right there.
Johnny noted the ring but said nothing about it. "You own this place?" he asked as he took a seat at the patio display.
"Along with a karaoke bar, recycling center, and in two weeks a theme park,? was his answer while taking a seat.
Johnny wasn't really interested in the karaoke bar and certainly not the recycling center, though recycling was important, but the theme park was another matter. "Ebon mentioned you might be looking for someone to put on a stunt show. You know, like an Evil Knievel kind of thing."
"Certainly sounds like it'd draw a crowd, though your hard part might be increasingly difficult stunts." He takes a sip from the mug, the lid pushing up the mustache displaying two-sided tape.
"Not necessarily." Johnny leaned forward, arching a brow at the taped on mustache and trying not to laugh. He gestured with a finger to the mustache. "You're... uh... having a disguise malfunction there, I think." He smirked, amused.
To his credit, the Mogul remained serious and in character as he raised a brow again at the comment and looked at his crotch pretending to have misheard what Johnny said. "The rollin? pin trying to escape the drawer?" Then he looked up. "Think you're seein? things, Johnny. Anywho, would you want to be in charge of your own stunts or have someone come up with them for you like a blind challenge?"
Oh, man. There was no way Johnny's eyes were wandering anywhere near Race's crotch. That kind of thing could be misconstrued into something it was not. He liked women! He arched a brow again when Race misunderstood and dismissed his attempt at help. Well, if he wanted to walk around with a fake mustache half falling off it was his own business. "Uhh..." He was clearly distracted for a moment, blinking back to the question at hand. "I don't know. What do you think? What about a mix of things? Like, maybe I do my own stunts and then ask the crowd for suggestions?"
"Workable." He nods at that and moves his top lip as though trying to get rid of an itch making the mustache dance. "Would you require a personal crew or want to contract out?"
There was a smirk again. It was getting harder and harder to keep a straight face. Johnny had to cough and clear his throat to cover up the laughter that was threatening. Was this guy for real? "Ahem, excuse me, but... Where's the camera?" He turned his head to look around, convinced this had to be some kind of gag.