Payment
| Payment | |
|---|---|
| Players |
Razi pays Gareth for ambiguous services rendered. |
There are plenty of diners around the city, but this one is /theirs/. That is: it's a common place for Razi and Gareth to meet about jobs, given that /someone/ doesn't have a real office yet. Razi might be a little over-dressed, but only because he's come from the office, and so it's at least clear that his three-piece suit is a result of a workplace rather than inherent fanciness; he's surely far from the first to go in and out in his work attire. But, as he has always been whenever Gareth's seen him, he is rather precise and impeccable in appearance, looking well-tailored and well-pressed. He is currently sipping a coffee as he considers the other occupants of the diner as he waits in a booth. All on his lonesome. Like a wizard, Gareth is never early. Unlike a wizard, however, he is always late. Never by much, but just enough that someone might start wondering if they got the time right. But at last, here he is, slipping through the open door of the diner in someone else's wake, smoothly stepping around them and making his way over to Razi's table before anyone else can intercept. "Sorry, sorry," he says with a wiggle of his fingers as he slides into the booth opposite Razi. It's the same apology every time, shameless, accompanied with the quick curl of one side of his mouth before he moves on. His coat bunches up around him, shoulders lifting as the material catches on the bench. "How's it going? Anything interesting happening?" he asks, quick-fire. And Razi is, by contrast, endlessly patient. Still, as he waits. He doesn't even immediately look over as Gareth settles in and offers that quick-fire greeting; his gaze is still lingering on one of the other tables, watching them over the rim of his coffee. "Mm," is his first response. "The couple in the corner are on their third date, I think. I think they have plans for after dinner, but I also don't think they'll make them, given how much physical contact they've been making. The older man at the counter has been here for at least an hour, judging by the level of annoyance the waitress has every time she refills his coffee. And I think the collection of students in the booths two behind you are nervously considering trying to dine and dash." Finally, his dark eyes settle on Gareth there across the table for him. "Do any of those constitute 'interesting'?" "They're all interesting," Gareth says without blinking, inclining his head towards the couple in the corner. "Though they neither can make me money nor are much of a puzzle," he says with a sigh. "I don't think turning in students for dining and dashing is going to earn me much money." There's a shrug of one thin shoulder, easily missed in the way his coat lifts. He looks at Razi's coffee cup, gaze thoughtful. "How many have you had?" he wonders, even as he nods his head towards the waitress as she offers him some coffee. "I don't think it's likely to earn you /any/ money, in fact," Razi says, his voice even and mild, as is his habit. At the question, his gaze drops briefly down to his half-drunk coffee, as if considering. "My second," he says. "But I was here early." His tone lacks enough inflection for it to be a /true/ reassurance, but it bears the suggestion of it. He has yet to get annoyed at Gareth's habitual tardiness, at least. "I'm afraid I haven't noticed anything potentially profitable inside the diner." For some reason. "I trust you've been well?" "Yeah, well, I haven't picked up any clients in diners, so I guess I'll continue to strike out there," Gareth says with a flick of one hand, slouching back into the booth. "I'm always well," he says, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand, a nervous tick he's picked up over the years. "You? Job still keeping you dressing sharp, I see," he says, gesturing towards Razi's perfectly-groomed appearance. He picks up his cup in one hand, dangerously close to sloshing the coffee over the edges as he brings it to his lips to drink. "The legal field is a rather formal one nearly wherever you go," Razi says simply, unbothered -- but also un-wooed -- by Gareth's compliment of his attire. "Even in more rural areas, business wear tends to be a staple." This is definitely what Gareth wanted to hear about. He sets his coffee down then, long fingers graceful, and then reaches into an inside pocket to pull out an envelope that he slides across the table to Gareth. It's very thin, because it's a check, rather than some unwieldy wad of cash. (And Razi's handwriting on the check in question is unerringly elegant. As if he maybe has a side job as a calligrapher.) "You don't strike me as always being well," he notes mildly. "Guess that's why I'd never make it in the legal profession," Gareth says with a quirk of his lips. Yeah, Gareth, that's exactly why, your lack of dress sense. He takes the envelope from the table and slides it into his jacket without checking the check. He's worked for Razi enough to trust he'll get what he's owed. "Yeah well," he sniffs, glancing aside and at the diner's menu, refusing to look at Razi to answer him. "Need a steady job to pay the bills, and need to pay the bills before you eat, huh?" As much as he tries to pass it off as a joke, it's clear he's deeply ashamed by the admission. "There are many who would fail to find it an enjoyable trade," Razi says, offering this simple quasi-agreement. It's Gareth's lack of dress sense /and/ simply not being a good fit for him! He does pause there a moment at Gareth's last reply, his fingers poised once more on the rim of his coffee mug; his expression is habitually inscrutable, but there's a sense that this response is not what he meant to inspire. "Mm," is his first reply. A neutral sound. And then, in an idle, matter-of-fact sort of tone, he says, "I thought I might get something, at any rate, if you wanted anything." Did he have a menu out? No. But now he will. Yes, he's definitely hungry now, he must eat immediately. Gareth';s gaze snaps back to Razi, his eyes narrowing at the other man as if searching his expression for any hint of mockery or pity. He scrutinises Razi for a long moment before he relaxes at whatever he sees (or doesn't see) there. "Sure," he says with a quick jerk of an up-nod. There's an awkward pause before he offers a quiet "Thanks." It's not even a begrudging thanks! He's genuinely grateful, even if he doesn't seem to want to linger on it for too long. "You got the time?" he checks. Razi's expression is absolutely inscrutable. It's just as if he had extra food lying around or something, and he doesn't care one way or another what Gareth chooses to do with it. He mostly ignores the thanks, but out of politeness. "Certainly," he says, drawing his left arm up to check his watch. "Quarter after six." And then he's reaching into a pocket for a cell phone that /sounds/ like it just vibrated. "One moment." It looks like a text, not a phone call, that he reads swiftly enough and then responds to. And then BACK THE PHONE GOES into his pocket. "My apologies. I don't suppose you happen to know of any interesting performances around the city, do you?" He eyes Gareth consideringly, as if estimating the likelihood that he's a patron of the arts. "I have family back in town who tend to devour that sort of thing." "Oh, she'll drag me to anything and everything," Razi says with a very faint smile. "It's not that I don't enjoy it, but sometimes it's novel to pretend I'm attending of my own accord. And she's always delighted when I make the invitation for her." The waitress approaches, probably from that waitress sixth sense, and Razi, after a moment's consideration, orders a gyro plate, before leaving Gareth with the grave responsibility of choosing his dinner. Gareth orders a double cheeseburger with curly fries, and doesn't even look guilty about it. He doesn't, however, order a milkshake. He hmms, crossing his arms. "In which case, what do *you* prefer?" he wonders, testing, probing. "Mother, aunt, sister... daughter?" he stabs in the dark, like maybe he might learn more about Razi this way. The first question has Razi pausing thoughtfully, a fingertip tapping slowly on the rim of his coffee cup. "Something...thoughtful, I suppose," he says. "The sort of thing I could have an actual conversation about afterwards." The /second/ question, though, almost draws a glint to his eye that /might/ be something like -- gasp! Humor. "Family," he repeats. Mildly. "Well, Waiting For Godot is running at the Shakespeare on Navy Pier," Gareth says thoughtfully. "Who knows, you might find something familiar in it," he says with a quick grin. "And there's probably nothing that *scandalous* in it, so it's suitable for *all* family members." He looks more than a little smug to have elicited a *response* from Razi that isn't as perfectly pressed as his suit. That /hint/ of humor twitches in an upward manner at the very corners of his mouth. "Suitable, yes, although I don't imagine it would be particularly interesting to too young an audience." There's a moment, a beat, where Razi lets Gareth draw whatever conclusion he cares to from that...and then he relents. A little. "She's my age," he says. "More or less." He takes another sip of his coffee, considering Gareth with something akin to curiosity. And then he wonders, "Do you think I'm waiting for something?" "Then I'm sure she'll enjoy it," Gareth says, still smug, and more than a little pleased at having learned *something* about Razi that isn't 'he writes well and dresses better than me'. He takes another gulp of his coffee like it might escape from him if he doesn't finish it soon, leaving the question hanging between them before he finally answers it. "I do. Me, half of the time." There's a slow blink, and then the joke actually /lands/, and Razi has the very effusive reaction of...smiling. Not even the tiny, subtle kind! It's not huge and effusive, either, but still. "Ah," he says. "Yes, of course. I /do/ wonder if you might have more luck with /other/ clients if you were more reliably on time, but. I can be patient." It's more than Gareth normally gets, and he grins at the reaction. "Yeah, I know, I know. But I am *reliably late*, at least," he offers hopefully as he ducks his head. "Thank you. For waiting," he says, ever-so-briefly making himself vulnerable before Razi before the moment is gone and he gives the other man a thoughtful look. "Are you? Waiting for something, I mean." Razi inclines his chin just an inch or two in acknowledgment of Gareth's thanks, but doesn't embarrass either of them by giving it any more attention than it needs. Vulnerability is Bad. The question, however, leaves him thoughtful in turn. He is silent a long moment, clearly considering his response. And then he says, "I think everyone is waiting for something." Gareth leans back as Razi thinks about his answer, giving a warm smile at the words. "Yeah, I guess you're right on that one," he agrees. "Wonder what it's like not to be waiting for something. Sounds boring," he says, discarding the thought as quickly as it came. "I guess I've *probably* pushed my luck with personal questions for the day so I'm not even going to ask you what it is," he promises, fingers tapping against the edge of his coffee cup as he searches for something else to talk about. Fortunately, food arrives before he has to come up with a topic. "Or quiet," Razi says, the counter a mild one, bereft of any particular conviction. A mirror, rather than a disagreement. "Some might find it peaceful, I suppose." And there, once more, is that /tiny/ hint of amusement, tucked away there at the corner of his mouth. But with food arriving, conversation will perforce be distracted for a time. But Razi will keep up polite conversation until they're both done, he's paid the check, and moved on. Enjoy your burger, Gareth. | |