The Saint of Archmendt -- [Jump-In]

"Ten billion?" Came the intrigued reply from a fruity, somewhat more soft-spoken voice "I'm sure Jesper's in it just for the fun, as usual. But there's a slew of ways to make a sum— what makes this hidden island any better?"

"I've run into my fair share of fake, lost lands," She sighed, adjusting her round, yellow sunglasses "I'm always there for history and culture, but I'm not going to trust this place just because it's got a fancy map and some mystery."

Pushing her heavy, black case— conveniently labelled Henriette Gagnon, inconveniently on the table—  aside, she went back to her half-empty, extra large iced coffee. While Jesper's novels had always made his persona push to the forefront of his personality, Henriette had always been mostly herself; whether she was acting in a movie, in an interview, or on yet another secret escapade for kicks, intrigue, and knowledge. And if there was one thing she learned to keep as a part of herself from all of these endeavors, it was caution.

 

Levi was listening, but merely picking at his food. He was sitting a short distance behind everyone, and honestly the young man didn't see anything of Raymond's proposition. Not the props at least. But that was fine with him. He was used to being not seen and not heard. He heard some dude call himself Jesper. Cool. Some woman was drinking a coffee and swinging a case around on a table. She looked vaguely familiar, but he didn't really care.

He seemed nervous and distant, and he seemed to be pulling his hair to hide his face. His beanie wasn't much help, and neither was the young stubble growing on his jaw. His green eyes that looked like they could be full of wonder and curiosity closed, and processed all of Raymond's words.

Dad will kill me if I go... He'll absolutely lose his shit and there's no guarantee I'll recover from it. he thinks to himself. But he didn't know anyone here. They would gain nothing from sending him back. They could need his help. He was a smart kid... right? And this escapade... well, it sounded kinda neat. Right up his alley. Maybe there would be something to prove and he can get famous on his own, and far away from his father.

"I'm in." came his quiet voice from behind the group. Well. Bye, Dad.

 

Edgar had shown up just in the nick of time, just as they had started. Fashionably late... yet again. He was never really one to be good with time, or much of anything really. He'd spent much of his life being a bit of a loser, scraping by with what friends and shitty jobs he could manage. He sighed, sitting down just in time as Raymond pulled the cube from his sack. He was dressed in a brown patched up jacket, gray shirt showing from beneath along with a pair of dark blue jeans, and a brown flat cap to match his jacket. With bright green eyes, dirty blonde messy hair and a fairly average body, he felt as though he wasn't the worst looking guy in the world. 

Edgar's eyes lit up as if a fire had been ignited behind them, just at the thought of ten billion. After countless years of working awful jobs, usually part time cleaning up puke and trash somewhere, the prospect of even a percentile of that treasure seemed like a dream.

"Ten billion... Why, even with only 10 percent of that, I would be set for life! I'd never have to work that shitty job again! Of course I'm in!"

He just hoped he was up for the task.

 

As the present rabble commenced into what Rufus could only assume was their best sales pitch to the old Scot, he stood near the back of the room. Between a couple of walls beside a curtained window, cross-legged, cross-armed and isolated from the glamorous and otherwise over-their-head mentalities of those who had spoken before him, he let his mind drift.

"Archmendt," he thought to himself whilst quietly surveying the ornate nature of the restaurant Raymond had called them to. "Now that would be a tale to remember, especially for sharing with Shalom once I'm back."

A couple of celebrities and a couple of clueless start-ups later, the room was clear enough of the words of the vapid for Rufus to sneak a word in to the man who had rented out the restaurant. He strode smoothly past a couple of the waiting staff, sipping a glass of champagne he'd picked up from one of them before placing a hand on Raymond's shoulder.

With a smile, a tug of his red flannel shirt's collar, and a brisk brushing of his bushy black mustache, he looked the Scotsman in the eyes and spoke in a low voice, directly into his ear.

"Look, you have youngsters here who are totally in over their head, and on the other hand, you have celebrities who are more obsessed with their hair and the money than they are for a real sense of adventure. Given, I don't know where you stand with all of this, Mr. Raymond, but I'll tell you what... You wanna find this thing, you're gonna take me along because..."

He stood up straight, flashing a reassured glance to the crowd before speaking up. "I'm in it for the adventure! Always have been in all of my previous travels, always will be. You can count me in. We'll find this city, or my name isn't Pac-Daddy McSlick."

He looked around, a little worried after his offbeat joke didn't quite catch wind at first. "And it isn't. It's Rufus McAllister, but I still propose that we'll find it."

He lifted up his glass and said, "Cheers to us all, newfound friends. Cheers to. Us. All... And cheers to Archmendt!