Best for Last
| Best for Last | |
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"There's a trick to it, you know... You've got to have a clear idea of your car's weight and the dimensions it occupies in space and their relationship to acceleration." | |
| Players |
Lucius and Kasandra hold interviews for a new driver, and it doesn't go so great. Luckily, Kasandra saved the best for last... |
No one gets hired by Lucius Shaw. Well... Not /no one/. Kasandra Moreno was hired by Lucius -- she was the /last/ person to be hired by him, in fact. Since then, Omega has grown to the point where there was an entire staff of people designed to do all the hiring for Lucius according to his high standards. However, there were certain roles you simply didn't let someone else fill for you: Personal Chef, Bodyguard, etc. In Lucius' books, personal driver was among those positions, so today he set aside several hours in his busy calendar to personally interview a handful of potential candidates chosen by Kasandra herself to meet with him. It hadn't been a /great/ day so far, and it showed in the exhausted way he swirled a finger of whiskey in front of his eyes as he watched the liquid dance around the expensive crystal snifter he held. It wasn't that the candidates were awful, of course. Kasandra would never let them get that far if they were, but so far few if any had met the particular image he had in mind. "Is the next one outside?" he asks of her, gaze flicking over to regard his assistant stood in her usual place beside his desk. "You can send them in, if so." Long days are nothing new to Kasandra Moreno. Long days just mean she's empowered to solve all of the problems before the next day's roll in and threaten the order of day-to-day operations. She'd be a shit Executive Assistant if she couldn't wrangle processes and procedures until they ran smoothly as silk; like butter on hot toast-- With a flash of white teeth, not deterred by the stream of no's from Lucius, she gives a nod to and moves to the door. "This one, you'll like this one," Kasandra assures as she reaches the door and pops her head out into the dwindled to nothing lobby: one candidate left. Best for last. Fingers crossed. Her dark eyes scan and then land on that lone figure, her mouth quirking into that schooled, professional smile she's given each and every candidate today. Her eyes land on her prey, and she says, with that Hallmark card warmth, "Ms. MacKenzie? Right this way, please, Mr. Shaw is ready for you." And then she swings the immaculate door open wider and uses her body to brace it. Today, Kasandra is a vision of confidence in bold red and black with shoots of white through her blouse and mostly black pencil-length skirt, her heels so severe it is a wonder she's still upright and not begging off for a foot soak. She's tall. Not Very tall. With her willowy figure, she certainly wouldn't be 'amazonian'. Combined with her looks though, she appears very... young. There's a certain roughness on her pale features that speaks of someone who spends... not a lot of time outside in the daytime... but plenty at night. A little windburned, a little dry... For all that, she seems happy. There's a slight... tint to her gaze that speaks of a... rather gleeful underlay to her personality... Something that her forced flat expression can't quite hide. Indeed, as Kasandra sticks her head out, she has just finished mouthing the words to 'Fuck Tha Police'. Thankfully not quite daring enough to sing it out loud, she pulls her airpods up, and crams them in the pocket of her suit, brushes her thighs off, and says, ever so prettily and airly,"Thank you ma'am. Nice lobby. Very comfy chairs." Of course as a driver, she HAS to be comfy sitting for lengthy periods of time anyway. She clasps fingers behind her back as she strides into the office (when viewed from behind, her fingers continually twitch in the manner of someone used to activity). "Red and black. Strong, assertive colors. I really dig that. Complimentary contrasts." A bright smile is given to the predatory look, and then she's in the office. She herself came dressed in a classic black suit that probably cost quite a bit in savings for her to buy. Pronto Uomo. Spendy for her income level. Practically cheap at Lucius'. She walks into the room, choosing a neutral distance in front of Lucius to stand at, hands clasped behind her for a moment, at ease, before thrusting one hand out,"Phaedre McKenzie, chaffeuse extraordinare at your service. Nice to meet you. Wow. This is pretty classy." It's not all about the money. It's about the driving for her. Sure. Not everybody needs to know how to force a limo to do a safe landing in a side flip, but... well... she does, for better or worse. Limo driving is unlikely to ever be as exciting as this young energetic woman wants it to be, but her excitement is palpable... even if she is doing her very best to be calm and quiet. Indeed, Lucius' bright blue Brioni suit undoubtedly cost him somewhere in the realm of five figures and quite literally has 24-karat gold thread woven into it. It's a suit /designed/ to be the most expensive suit in the room, and it certainly fulfills its purpose today. While the 'pretty classy' office is indeed pretty classy, it's also large enough to serve as a small studio apartment. It lacks a kitchen or a bedroom, but there's a seating area near the door with a soft, comfortable looking couch, two chairs, and a wall-mounted flatscreen. Another wall hosts rows of bookshelves, and the opposite several high-quality paintings by relatively unknown local artists. Two more doors lead off into a private bathroom and a small closet filled with yet more expensive suits respectively, and finally there is The Desk. The Desk is made of ebony wood, a dark and dense lumber that gives it the appearance and visible heft of being made out of some sort of striated dark matter. It sits before a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows that look out on the Loop, and installing it likely gave a couple of unfortunate workers lasting back problems. Yet for the size of it Lucius, keeps barely anything atop it: a handful of personal knick-knacks, none of which are photos, an unnecessarily modern monitor, keyboard, and mouse, and -- at the moment, at least -- a platter bearing a decanter of whiskey and two empty, crystal snifters. "Come in, come in," Lucius greets with a bright smile and a warm tone that somewhat clashes with the rest of the expansive office which seems to have been designed with the sole design note of 'impress and intimidate.' "I'm Lucius Shaw," he offers as he stands, waving her closer so he can take that offered hand with a single, firm pump before he gestures for her to sit across from him in a chair that looks a lot like his own, if smaller and less ornate. He chuckles a bit at her description of his office, and nods as he glances around the room. "It's a bit /much/ is what you mean," he replies despite undoubtedly being consulted on every little aspect of its design, "But it gets the job done. So -- Ms. McKenzie, was it? Kasandra tells me you're our best candidate yet. I assume you have some experience in the position?" "I like this one already," Kasandra says, not quite under her breath as she bounces the door off her ass and then glides in behind Phaedre, letting it close silently behind her. She allows the potential new hire to admire the view and wander toward Lucius, not worried in the least bit as the energetic woman approaches the desk. Kasandra herself moves around Phaedre and assumes her usual post. There's a tablet soon in hand as Kasandra pulls up some information and shoots it over to Lucius's PC so it's on screen for him. It might be a job interview, but Kasandra waits for a lull in the introductions before Phaedre can answer any questions. "Can I get you anything to drink, Ms. McKenzie? You were waiting for so long now." She hasn't moved from her spot next to Lucius's desk. Kasandra's attention pulled from her tablet and settled over Phaedre with that self-same warmth of a Hallmark greeting card--just warm enough to be convinced it was real. The same question is conveyed to Lucius but only as a look, not toward the man, but at his glass as if gauging if he needed a fresh drink or was content with what he has in hand. "Where most would say experience comes with age, Ms. McKenzie beats them out handily with the spunkiness of youth," Kasandra says with that same Hallmark warmth ringing her tone. "But I am confident that she can sell herself without my help." For all that she's not particularly strong, she still manages a firm squeeze for her own part of the hand shake. When she's directed to a chair, she sits, upright, legs together, hands resting on top of her thighs. It's alert, but she still looks rather comfortable that way in the manner of people who tend to have an overabundance of energy. She lifts a shoulder a little bit in response to Lucius,"I live over an automative garage. Porcelain toilets look like 'a bit much' to me. For what it's worth though... I've driven plenty of out of town 'men of wealth and taste' in a multi-million dollar vehicle... almost as many times as I have limos with stripper poles in the back. 'Much' is kind of a... comparitive status, I guess? I couldn't honestly say what I like more... the business men are usually pretty easy customers. Keep quiet. Only speak when there's a problem you can't solve on your own. The party guys..." She tilts her head from side to side, mouth quirked, lost in thought,"They're kind of rude and handsy and noisy, and they don't usually tip well unless they're expecting 'extra service'." A pause follows then as she flickers her gaze around, as if gauging the room, before she edges out,"IIII'm... partial to a uh... stiff drink myself honestly, but since I need to drive, best to have water... Only if it's not an imposition, though. I'm used to waiting." A pause follows, and then she goes on, a look of gratitude on her face sent to Kasandra,"The party guys... they do have one perk. Like... sometimes they'll pay you to do something interesting like 'can you jump that over there' or 'can you drift in this thing'. Stuff like that." "There's a trick to it, you know... You've got to have a clear idea of your car's weight and the dimensions it occupies in space and their relationship to acceleration. Heck, there's even a... well.. an art to crashing a vehicle, as crazy as that sounds. Newton's second law is... well... It's kind of everything." Okay. Maybe babbling a little bit. "Getting a good, full-time paying gig is difficult... Not everyone potential employer is comfortable with people like me, for... various reasons, youth being one of them, as your assistant has observed... Oh, when you get behind the wheel of a beautiful car..." She's practically purring. "Almost as fun as being allowed to look under the hood. Most people don't want you tinkering under the hood, though, to be fair. Which I respect. The customer gets what the customer wants! Sometimes even, or especially when it's weird." It doesn't take an instinct honed by years in the boardroom to work out that if given enough time and empty air, Phaedre would probably just keep on selling herself without further guidance or questions from Lucius. So... He more or less lets her. He listens intently while a faintly amused cant slips into his otherwise bright and friendly smile, slipping his attention away only briefly twice: once to glance over the information that suddenly appears on his monitor, and again to push his glass with his fingers towards the platter in a non-verbal request for more whiskey when Kasandra glances to his snifter. When Phaedre explains the 'perk' of driving party guys around in her limo, he lets out a soft snort and swivels his chair around so he's parallel to the desk, a position which allows him to lean back and cross one leg over the other, ankle-to-knee. Based on the follow-up, it sounds like she /can/ indeed jump and drift a limo, which earns an appreciative, if somewhat skeptical raise of his eyebrow. However he does finally break back into the stream of the conversation when she mentions not every employer being comfortable with 'people like her.' "What other reasons?" he asks, referencing the 'various' qualifier she attached, "I don't really care about your age so long as you perform to my needs... But what other reasons would an employer not be comfortable with you?" "And responsible, too," Kasandra comments to Lucius when Phaedre requests water over a stiff drink. She shoots the interviewee a quick and easily missed wink before heading toward the wet bar. Luckily there is a stock of water of various types kept just in case of such need. "Do you have a preference? Sparkling? Purified?" she asks as she dips down into what has to be the most elegant squat ever performed. She opens the mini fridge to look for the water, still listening. Kas glides back up to full height as she notes movement from Lucius's way. Aha. The whiskey gets refilled readily enough as the snifter is nudged her way, the bottle some ornate-looking thing that probably cost more than most salaries. And Kasandra pours liberally. There's some bobs of Kasandra's head as Phaedre gets to the 'selling' part of the interview; clearly, nothing /too/ shocking that wasn't dug up in the typical background checks run by any agency--or private company. And those checks were/thorough/, on the same level as if someone was trying to get employed by the Federal Government. Secrets are sniffed and pawed at with all the care in the world. The bottle of water, preference noted, is tended to next, Kasandra delivering the bottle right over to Phaedre and taking to lingering there instead of back at her previous posts as she fixes the interviewee with the most curious of looks, waiting for that answer. The girl purses her lips when the inevitable question comes up. She was never going to attempt to hide it of course, especially not with this level of interview. Even so, there's always a bit of nerves. She laces her fingers in front of her. "Uuuum... a small few things... IIII... ran away from home when I was sixteen, but I do have my GED. I have a feeew tattoos so I can't wear short sleeves to most formal occassions, and I am also trans. A lot of people who can afford a chaffeuse tend towards the more... conservative bent. I'm quite capable of shutting up and driving if my clients want, but..." Phaedre purses her lips,"I think people assume that if I get angry about something, I'm not going to be quiet... But... well... I actually kind of get that most of my clients aren't hiring a friend or conversational partner... Still, that last one has kind of stepped on my toes more than once." She looks over at Kasandra, answering her comment,"I love driving... I don't want... something stupid to take that from me. Making stupid choices... everyone does it from time to time, but I'm not about to ruin something I've worked so hard for. I'm not picky, though... Really. Any water is fine as long as it's wet." A pause, and she thinks for a long moment, before sheepishly going on,"I maaaay, when I was seventeen, have been picked up a COUPLE of times for a misunderstanding or two, by the police." Specifically, trying to street race on Mulholland with a sports car she specifically did not own. Juvenile record though, so... As the explanations are given, Lucius waves his hand through the air dismissively. "Nothing of any concern to me, then," he reports with a casual indifference before he nods his thanks to Kasandra and picks up his freshly-filled snifter for a drink. When he's finished, he resumes listening to Phaedre, mulling over her given reason for not accepting a drink with a few slow nods. He gives an outward appearance of appreciating the responsibility, but he flicks a look to Kasandra that makes it clear he recognized her attempt to float Phaedre a softball opportunity to gain points. Still, there were at least a couple of the previous interviewees that he suspected might have actually taken the drink if it were offered... When she mentions being picked up by the police a couple times in her youth, he actually grins. That earns Kasandra another look, though this time it seems more like he's acknowledging why she saved Phaedre for last. If anything, the record seems to be almost a plus to Lucius. "Last question, then," he says, eyes returning to the woman across from him, "Would you be willing to drive an Alfa Romeo Giulia if the need arose?" The bottle of water gets handed off to Phaedre with a smile from Kasandra, that, miracle of miracles, reaches her dark eyes as she leans in to say, "And this is why I saved the best one of last," before she makes her way back to her spot by Lucius's desk. She catches that look from her boss, but he just gets that smile turned on him, amusement clear in her gaze. Again, nothing Phaedre says sets off any kind of alarms within Kasandra; it all gets those mild bobs of her head. "Your driving record speaks for itself, and as you said, you love to drive and won't let some stupid decisions take that away from you. Smart girl." That last question is all Kasandra to know that she needs to get with legal to send up some paperwork, so she starts tap-tap-tapping on that tablet again, the woman never not working from one angle or another. "If she says no to that, I'll eat my heels. Right now." The enthusiasm finally slips it's leash,"Oh yeah! They can get pretty sweet air time, too... The trick is in making sure you you give yourself about... oh, twelve seconds of solid acceleration! Depending on your kid, the official top speed is about one-fifty, but if you know what you're doing, you can push it WAY past that... The rear wheel drive helps the landing if you don't wanna tear the bottom out-" Then she blushes, and trails off, and offers a tad more quietly,"I mean, yes sir, absolutely sir. "Best one?" She blinks several times. Doesn't stop her from taking the bottle, and draining it rather quickly, before sighing with relief and offering a simple,"Thank you. Really." She practically preens under prace. She's got a very sunny smile, truth be told. As for the eating of heels, well... "I'm assuming they're genuine leather? If so, I have an amazing wine-sauce that works wonders for tough meat." It's absolutely terrible, but SHE thinks it's good. A pause follows, and she says,"May I ask what the uniform is? I just went with my standard 'driving rich people around' suit, but I'm pretty adaptable depending on your needs or the impression you're trying to convey." "That will do," Lucius replies, gesturing towards Phaedre when she asks about the uniform. "I'll let you know if I need you to wear something else, depending on the day, but generally speaking a suit will do fine." He sips from his whiskey again, then sets it back down and glances to Kasandra to make sure she's already working on getting the necessary forms brought up for Phaedre to sign. Apparently he's satisfied with her off-the-cuff knowledge of the Giulia's performance, and her willingness to drive one ends up being almost a secondary concern. "Excellent. Primarily we'll keep you on the limo, but sometimes it's just not as practical as the Giulia." "As for the limo you'll be driving..." His tone and cadence has shifted by this point, from interviewer to employer. The difference is almost certainly recognizable who's ever been on a successful interview for a job. It's something of a mix between mild relief that the search is over and a more practiced, clipped delivery as certain information is conveyed. "It's a Mercedes-Maybach S 650 Pullman. You start tomorrow, so Ms. Moreno..." He trails off as he looks fully at Kasandra for the first time since the interview began, "Is going to take you outside to sign some papers, then she'll show you to the garage so you can get familiar with the vehicles. You'll have a company card issued you for gas and other expenses related to the limo and the Guilia, as well as a company phone so I can reach you if I need you. There's a few other details, but Kasandra will go over the rest with you. Welcome to Omega, Ms. MacKenzie." As Lucius finishes up the interview and lobs the job right at Phaedra as hers, Kasandra strides toward the door. Before the knock even comes, she opens it and has a brief conversation with whoever is on the other side. A manila folder gets handed off to Kas, opened to check for everything, and some further murmured things are exchanged before the door shuts and Kas turns that patently professional and Hallmark warm smile toward Phaedre. "I never had a doubt in my mind, but welcome to the Omega family. I'm sure you're going to be a fantastic fit." She gestures with her head for Phaedre to come along. "Of course, there will be the standard boilerplate NDA, nothing flashy, but you understand there are some things you'll be privy to that can't go slipping and sliding their way--" and the conversation continues that way as Kasandra seeks to herd her new charge out of Lucius's office and to finish everything out. Phaedre chews her lower lip, leaning forward curiously as she turns the information over in her head on the nature of the car. A low whistle escapes. "Huuuh... They advertise it at about a hundred miles an hour, give or take... Hrrrm... I can try to get that up a little... huuuuh... Does it have the whole anti-ballistic, anti-explosive package? That's a sturdy vehicle... for people who expect trouble. Could maybe get those numbers up a little with a bit of tinkering, but..." Bizarrely, that only seems to make her MORE happy, not less. She does pop up, though, smiling widely,"Thank you so much! Sounds like a hoot and a half. I look forward to driving you around." She shakes her head softly, lost in thought a little, perhaps dreaming a bit. Now that she's been offered the job, she wanders over to Kasandra, smiling brightly as she looks over at the package,"Thanks again, ma'am... So like... when you say boilerplate NDA, do you mean like the 'don't talk to the cops without the company lawyer' NDA? Or the 'You didn't see the cocaine and hookers in the back' NDA?" Yeah. She just asked that. At least she waited until AFTER the interview to talk about 'cocaine and hookers'? | |