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Post by Dion on Feb 19, 2023 2:01:44 GMT -5
Politics was never something Dion tried to interest himself in. In his past, such a messy topic only ever brought him and his loved ones pain and strife, and so the Saiyan actively worked to keep himself purposefully away from the world of governmental matters unless said matters actively heeded for his immediate attention. And thankfully, they almost never did- Dion was nothing but a simple restaurant owner, after all, why would anyone want to snoop into his business anyways?
At least, that's what he was led to believe. Dion happened to be blissfully ignorant of the impact a restaurant owner could have on the populace they fed. Whlie he thought he was simply being a decent host, many of his patrons left his company believing him to be much more than he let on. Witty, intelligent, and good with people when he managed to gather himself beforehand, Dion was able to charm much of his early customers with his good nature alone- and that led to somewhat of a cult following that spread throughout much of Papaya Island proper. Any morally lesser person with their mind about them would see this opportunity to grasp for greater power and practically pounce at the opening presented to them.
Fortunately enough, though, Dion was not one of these people. Just because there was a chance at reaching high above his station didn't mean he actually wanted to- he was a restaurant owner who wanted to provide for his friends and family. Nothing more, and nothing less.
Unfortuantely, however, not everyone seemed to believe the same thing. Rumors from less savory sources already seemed to poke holes at Dion's outside personality- believing his friendly, humble nature to only be a farce for something much more sinister lying beneath the surface. Sure, it was restauranteering now, but who knows what this megalomaniac Saiyan could be planning for the future with the influence he was now growing through his food? Not only that, but said rumors also echoed the hearsay that the Diono's owner failed to register for the Central City Accords that President Derry himself put into place nearly a year ago in response to the various major attacks that had sprouted up from unidentifiable superpowered individuals untempered and unchecked by government intervention.
Personally, Dion believed the Accords to be inherently flawed, but that wasn't the reason why he wasn't signed up for them anyways. Though, he doubted any dissenters of his would care for the reason why, and more so for the fact that his name wasn't put on some dotted line somewhere proving his obedience to the law first and foremost. Still, the Saiyan doubted it would come back to bite him anytime soon- he wasn't doing anything that would cause any suspicion, and he'd be off-planet again in the coming days anyways, so would it really matter that much in the long run?
The matter was a debatable one, but Dion had no one to debate with him anyways. Right now, he was actually alone- going through the various remaining rooms in the second floor of the Diono's and checking to see if he had left anything out of the capsule-fulls of moving supplies he had already gathered for he and Amara's trip back to Namek. Humming a contented tune as he came back downstairs to the restaurant portion of the building, Dion carried in his arms boxfuls of throwaway, donatable items to sort through, setting them down in the middle of the dining room just before the bar and preparing to organize the lot of them one by one.
That was, until, something just had to interrupt him, of course.
At least, that's what he was led to believe. Dion happened to be blissfully ignorant of the impact a restaurant owner could have on the populace they fed. Whlie he thought he was simply being a decent host, many of his patrons left his company believing him to be much more than he let on. Witty, intelligent, and good with people when he managed to gather himself beforehand, Dion was able to charm much of his early customers with his good nature alone- and that led to somewhat of a cult following that spread throughout much of Papaya Island proper. Any morally lesser person with their mind about them would see this opportunity to grasp for greater power and practically pounce at the opening presented to them.
Fortunately enough, though, Dion was not one of these people. Just because there was a chance at reaching high above his station didn't mean he actually wanted to- he was a restaurant owner who wanted to provide for his friends and family. Nothing more, and nothing less.
Unfortuantely, however, not everyone seemed to believe the same thing. Rumors from less savory sources already seemed to poke holes at Dion's outside personality- believing his friendly, humble nature to only be a farce for something much more sinister lying beneath the surface. Sure, it was restauranteering now, but who knows what this megalomaniac Saiyan could be planning for the future with the influence he was now growing through his food? Not only that, but said rumors also echoed the hearsay that the Diono's owner failed to register for the Central City Accords that President Derry himself put into place nearly a year ago in response to the various major attacks that had sprouted up from unidentifiable superpowered individuals untempered and unchecked by government intervention.
Personally, Dion believed the Accords to be inherently flawed, but that wasn't the reason why he wasn't signed up for them anyways. Though, he doubted any dissenters of his would care for the reason why, and more so for the fact that his name wasn't put on some dotted line somewhere proving his obedience to the law first and foremost. Still, the Saiyan doubted it would come back to bite him anytime soon- he wasn't doing anything that would cause any suspicion, and he'd be off-planet again in the coming days anyways, so would it really matter that much in the long run?
The matter was a debatable one, but Dion had no one to debate with him anyways. Right now, he was actually alone- going through the various remaining rooms in the second floor of the Diono's and checking to see if he had left anything out of the capsule-fulls of moving supplies he had already gathered for he and Amara's trip back to Namek. Humming a contented tune as he came back downstairs to the restaurant portion of the building, Dion carried in his arms boxfuls of throwaway, donatable items to sort through, setting them down in the middle of the dining room just before the bar and preparing to organize the lot of them one by one.
That was, until, something just had to interrupt him, of course.
PL: 55,600 (Energy Setting places it down to 15,000) - WC: 625 - TWC: 625
