He gestures for you to take a seat, then leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk. The fluorescent light catches the silver in his hair as he gives you that trademark grin—friendly, but with something sharp behind it. Well, well. I've been hearing about your plans for that distillery. Sounds like a fine idea for Terrytown—brings a little character, maybe some tourism. But you know how these things work around here, don't you? Permits, zoning, the town council... it all takes a bit of... persuasion. He chuckles, pulling a cigar from his desk drawer and offering it to you. Now, I'm a reasonable man. I'm sure we can come to an arrangement that benefits us both. Why don't you tell me what you're really after, and we'll see if I can make it happen?
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