[OOC] Security
Because I had someone begging me for this: a continuation of RL E'sere. <3 you-know-who-you-are. ;)
"Senator Valen, I don't believe you've met my wife Diana?"
He always introduced her as 'Diana.' She always smiled graciously when he did.
"Please, call me Dee."
"And please, call me Joel," the other senator said, glancing over at Ethan, who ducked his head and smiled sheepishly at those often-made corrections. For several minutes, they made small talk on the latest bills being discussed on the Hill, before Ethan and Dee finally excused themselves and moved on, seeing someone else approach.
"Mr. Morelli."
"Mr. Callaghan."
"Donavon."
"Dee. Y'look good," Donavon said as the older woman slid her hand into the crook of Ethan's elbow again. Donavon smirked mildly at her, glancing at the diamond necklace that trailed down her neck toward the low v of her evening gown.
Ethan cleared his throat, a faint smirk playing on his own lips as he called Donavon's attention back to him.
"So your company is providing security this evening," said Ethan.
"Yep. Figured since you're going to have Secret Service soon, we oughta broaden our range of clients. By the way--" Donavon leaned in close to stage-whisper "--you wrote us a glowing letter of recommendation, so's you know. Thanks." He winked.
Ethan smirked. "A letter. Of course. I am thoughtful like that. But don't count your chickens yet, please--I've only the Democratic nomination now," he drawled in answer.
"Excuse me," said Dee. "I'll be right back--to the powder room."
"Of course," said Ethan, nodding once to her, offering a smile as she slipped away. Conversation paused while both men watched her glide away in her slim black dress.
Finally, Donavon glanced back at Ethan and said, "So, some party, though, huh? I'd've started doing security for all these things a long time ago if I'd known it'd get me an invite."
"I'm just pleased I finally got you into a proper wardrobe--head of security or not, this is a black tie affair. We can't have slobs sneaking into a fundraising dinner for the Democratic Presidential candidate. Think how it would look on the evening news."
"Yeah, well." Donavon tugged on the collar of his jacket awkwardly. "This's still only one I've got. From the funeral."
Silence. They both looked at each other for long seconds, until Dee returned, her hand falling back to Ethan's arm.
"We should dance," she said, with a forced smile.
"We should," Ethan agreed at once. "If you'll excuse us, Donavon?"
"Sure, you g--"
The explosion drowned out whatever Donavon had been about to say, and screams rang out across the ballroom as the repercussions hit and people in their finery began tripping over each other as they ran away from the sound. Security personnel materialized from nowhere as they ran toward the source, the air filling with dust and haze and the sound of hallways outside collapsing, wood splintering.
"That way--escape route!" shouted Donavon--like his men, he was already heading the other way as he yelled back to Dee and Ethan. They just stood there, looking at each other. "Go!" Donavon yelled again, noting them still standing there. Finally, they turned and followed the press of other patrons toward the exit.
-=-
It was hours before things finally calmed enough that they and the other uninjureds could leave. Ethan shrugged off his jacket into the backseat of the limousine, one-handedly unfastening his tie as he looked back at the building. One side of the facade had crumbled into rubble, and police tape had it roped off already. Officers and private security personnel were holding back the crowds and the paparazzi and news crews while EMT crews sorted through the rubble for those trapped. Ethan slid into the car beside Dee and let the driver shut the door.
The ride home was silent, both locked within their own thoughts. When they arrived home, Ethan punched in the security codes at the gate and the door, letting them in. The house was dark and silent, too. Dee had removed her shoes in the car; she set them down now by the kitchen table and reached up to unfasten her earrings. Ethan slid up behind her to undo the necklace, pressing it into her hand when he finished.
"I'm going to go on to bed," said Dee. "I'm exhausted."
"I should, too," Ethan agreed wistfully. "I'll need to make appearances tomorrow."
He followed her upstairs and they paused there together, at the doorway to her room. "Will I see you in the morning?" he asked.
The TV was on in his room across the hall. It clicked off as he spoke. Neither of them looked.
"I have an early class tomorrow," Dee said, shaking her head apologetically. "Good night, Ethan." She turned to slip into her room.
"Good night, Diana."
She'd tried to correct him in those first covert meetings in her cramped GTA's office, before discussions of Blake and Byron turned to kisses and then more; but ten years of marriage had taught him nothing more than had those stolen breaks between his undergraduate classes and hers. She offered him a fleeting smile and shut the door behind her, letting it quietly latch between them.
-=-
His room was dark, but Ethan didn't turn on the light as he shut his own door softly. What light slipped through the curtains was enough to show him the huddle on his bed, and he smirked slightly, hands reaching up to finish unbuttoning his shirt.
"You asshole!" came Avery's initial outburst as he shrugged it off and stepped over to the bed. She pushed him away when he leaned forward to kiss her.
"You--you didn't even call me! Nobody on the news knows what happened! You bastard, you fucking fucking--I hate you!" She shoved him away again, violently. Ethan only smiled indulgently.
"And you were with her. I hate her, I'm going to kill her. I don't want you with her."
"I have to stay with her," Ethan explained dryly. "Can you imagine how it would look if I left my wife for the maid? It's not like I sleep with her now," he scoffed.
Avery's hands balled into fists--she was shaking with anger--but she didn't shove Ethan away again when he offered another kiss. Her lips still tasted like tears as she twined a proprietary hand into E'sere's undershirt, pulling him closer.
-=-
In the room next door, Dee slid her own dress off as the argument devolved into other noises. Almost eight months, and Ethan wasn't bored of this maid yet; Dee doubted that when he was, Avery would take kindly to being quietly let go. All in all, Dee considered her a good hire.
"Senator Valen, I don't believe you've met my wife Diana?"
He always introduced her as 'Diana.' She always smiled graciously when he did.
"Please, call me Dee."
"And please, call me Joel," the other senator said, glancing over at Ethan, who ducked his head and smiled sheepishly at those often-made corrections. For several minutes, they made small talk on the latest bills being discussed on the Hill, before Ethan and Dee finally excused themselves and moved on, seeing someone else approach.
"Mr. Morelli."
"Mr. Callaghan."
"Donavon."
"Dee. Y'look good," Donavon said as the older woman slid her hand into the crook of Ethan's elbow again. Donavon smirked mildly at her, glancing at the diamond necklace that trailed down her neck toward the low v of her evening gown.
Ethan cleared his throat, a faint smirk playing on his own lips as he called Donavon's attention back to him.
"So your company is providing security this evening," said Ethan.
"Yep. Figured since you're going to have Secret Service soon, we oughta broaden our range of clients. By the way--" Donavon leaned in close to stage-whisper "--you wrote us a glowing letter of recommendation, so's you know. Thanks." He winked.
Ethan smirked. "A letter. Of course. I am thoughtful like that. But don't count your chickens yet, please--I've only the Democratic nomination now," he drawled in answer.
"Excuse me," said Dee. "I'll be right back--to the powder room."
"Of course," said Ethan, nodding once to her, offering a smile as she slipped away. Conversation paused while both men watched her glide away in her slim black dress.
Finally, Donavon glanced back at Ethan and said, "So, some party, though, huh? I'd've started doing security for all these things a long time ago if I'd known it'd get me an invite."
"I'm just pleased I finally got you into a proper wardrobe--head of security or not, this is a black tie affair. We can't have slobs sneaking into a fundraising dinner for the Democratic Presidential candidate. Think how it would look on the evening news."
"Yeah, well." Donavon tugged on the collar of his jacket awkwardly. "This's still only one I've got. From the funeral."
Silence. They both looked at each other for long seconds, until Dee returned, her hand falling back to Ethan's arm.
"We should dance," she said, with a forced smile.
"We should," Ethan agreed at once. "If you'll excuse us, Donavon?"
"Sure, you g--"
The explosion drowned out whatever Donavon had been about to say, and screams rang out across the ballroom as the repercussions hit and people in their finery began tripping over each other as they ran away from the sound. Security personnel materialized from nowhere as they ran toward the source, the air filling with dust and haze and the sound of hallways outside collapsing, wood splintering.
"That way--escape route!" shouted Donavon--like his men, he was already heading the other way as he yelled back to Dee and Ethan. They just stood there, looking at each other. "Go!" Donavon yelled again, noting them still standing there. Finally, they turned and followed the press of other patrons toward the exit.
-=-
It was hours before things finally calmed enough that they and the other uninjureds could leave. Ethan shrugged off his jacket into the backseat of the limousine, one-handedly unfastening his tie as he looked back at the building. One side of the facade had crumbled into rubble, and police tape had it roped off already. Officers and private security personnel were holding back the crowds and the paparazzi and news crews while EMT crews sorted through the rubble for those trapped. Ethan slid into the car beside Dee and let the driver shut the door.
The ride home was silent, both locked within their own thoughts. When they arrived home, Ethan punched in the security codes at the gate and the door, letting them in. The house was dark and silent, too. Dee had removed her shoes in the car; she set them down now by the kitchen table and reached up to unfasten her earrings. Ethan slid up behind her to undo the necklace, pressing it into her hand when he finished.
"I'm going to go on to bed," said Dee. "I'm exhausted."
"I should, too," Ethan agreed wistfully. "I'll need to make appearances tomorrow."
He followed her upstairs and they paused there together, at the doorway to her room. "Will I see you in the morning?" he asked.
The TV was on in his room across the hall. It clicked off as he spoke. Neither of them looked.
"I have an early class tomorrow," Dee said, shaking her head apologetically. "Good night, Ethan." She turned to slip into her room.
"Good night, Diana."
She'd tried to correct him in those first covert meetings in her cramped GTA's office, before discussions of Blake and Byron turned to kisses and then more; but ten years of marriage had taught him nothing more than had those stolen breaks between his undergraduate classes and hers. She offered him a fleeting smile and shut the door behind her, letting it quietly latch between them.
-=-
His room was dark, but Ethan didn't turn on the light as he shut his own door softly. What light slipped through the curtains was enough to show him the huddle on his bed, and he smirked slightly, hands reaching up to finish unbuttoning his shirt.
"You asshole!" came Avery's initial outburst as he shrugged it off and stepped over to the bed. She pushed him away when he leaned forward to kiss her.
"You--you didn't even call me! Nobody on the news knows what happened! You bastard, you fucking fucking--I hate you!" She shoved him away again, violently. Ethan only smiled indulgently.
"And you were with her. I hate her, I'm going to kill her. I don't want you with her."
"I have to stay with her," Ethan explained dryly. "Can you imagine how it would look if I left my wife for the maid? It's not like I sleep with her now," he scoffed.
Avery's hands balled into fists--she was shaking with anger--but she didn't shove Ethan away again when he offered another kiss. Her lips still tasted like tears as she twined a proprietary hand into E'sere's undershirt, pulling him closer.
-=-
In the room next door, Dee slid her own dress off as the argument devolved into other noises. Almost eight months, and Ethan wasn't bored of this maid yet; Dee doubted that when he was, Avery would take kindly to being quietly let go. All in all, Dee considered her a good hire.