Birthday fic for... me! (TIMING!) - Administration, Carnac, PG
Title: First Impressions
Characters: Jean-Baptiste Carnac, Keir Warrick, Melissa not-yet-Warrick
Rating: PG
Warnings/Contains: Introspection, judgementalness, oblique references to sexual preferences, dialogue-light
Word count: 2109
Notes: I am not as smart, nor as observant as Carnac. But then again, considering what an ass he is, I'm okay with this, despite the fact that it may affect characterization.
Also, this is actually for SHIRO who wrote me amazing Aaron-fic! ♥
Jean- Baptiste met Keir first, of course.
It was purely professional, Keir was one of the ambitious new techies at Data Division, working on the Encryption Unit, and Jean-Baptiste had recently graduated and started working as a Socioanalyst. He was that rarest of distractions - an enjoyable one. Jean-Baptiste, for his part had been equal parts eager to prove his worth and disappointed at the lack of opportunities and the blandness of his assignment.
They met at a general department gathering, something with stale hors d’oeuvres and a two-drink maximum. Jean-Baptiste had intended to show up, make the rounds, stay for the socially appropriate length of time, and leave. An evening reading and finishing off the Bordeaux from last night sounded far more pleasant than rubbing elbows with the masses.
And then Keir.
They were introduced by Keir’s section manager, a man Jean-Baptiste had pegged as a sycophant and a pillow-biter within the first five minutes of their acquaintance. If the man had been more attractive, Jean-Baptiste might have even considered looking into it as a purely physical diversion. But he wasn’t.
Keir wasn’t what Jean-Baptiste would have considered ‘attractive’ either. Dark and fairly solid-looking, although clearly a desk-jockey, he held himself without arrogance or poise. Which was unfortunate, as better posture could only help detract from his rather obvious underling aura. His face was pleasant enough, but as elegant as his cheekbones were, they drew attention to a rather unfortunately large nose.
His lips were nice. Jean-Baptiste remembered thinking it was a pity nothing interesting was likely to come through them.
He also remembered his precise thoughts just before Keir Warrick spoke to him the first time. “Twenty-three minutes until I can leave.”
“Did you just graduate?”
The question actually took Jean-Baptiste off guard. When people were informed he was a Socioanalyst, they tended to stop looking at him as a person, and more as his job. He looked his age, no older, but that usually wasn’t enough for a new acquaintance to reason how new he was.
Also, it was uncommon, although not exactly rare, to find laypeople who knew just how old a new graduate Socioanalyst would be. Jean-Baptiste judged he had several years on Keir Warrick.
If the question had been asked with anything but the most casual politeness, Jean-Baptiste might have suspected a set-up. As it was, however, he felt he was a good enough judge of people to know that it was asked in fairly innocent, if astute, curiosity.
“Recently. This isn’t my first assignment, but every assignment brings new challenges.” It was a polite answer, politic and noncommittal. Keir nodded and moved to turn away, returning to his group. Jean-Baptiste smiled. “And you? Are you finding your job sufficiently… challenging?”
Keir’s eyes flickered back up to Jean-Baptiste’s face. Jean-Baptiste waited.
“Working for the Administration is a privilege in itself.” Keir’s answer was just as politic as Jean-Baptiste’s had been, if somewhat more guarded. “The level of challenge is… immaterial.”
So… no, then. Here was someone as bored as Jean-Baptiste was, someone who had the presence of mind to see as well as look. Also, his nose wasn’t that big, and his cheekbones and dark eyes balanced out his face well. Put him in a nice suit, stand him up straight, and Keir Warrick wouldn’t look out of place in a group of up-and-coming corporates.
Jean-Baptiste filled all this information away as he nodded and moved away. Demonstrating favourites never ended well, and an idle interest in someone wasn’t nearly enough to justify an office politics fiasco. Still, when he checked the reflection in the punch bowl and noticed Keir’s gaze following him, Jean-Baptiste couldn’t help but feel pleased. He was, after all, quite bored.
It wasn’t hard to arrange for casual meetings at lunch or walking in or leaving work at the same time. There were even a few honestly coincidental encounters, one right after Jean-Baptiste had left the gym flushed and freshly showered. He was nearly speechless at that, worried that it would come off a little overly obvious, despite it being pure chance. Keir, after a moment of unguarded appreciation, however, managed to remain completely professional, and Jean-Baptiste gave him the same courtesy.
That may have been the point that Keir started considering them friends. Or at least friendly acquaintances. Jean-Baptiste had, of course, realized that while Keir liked what he saw, he was otherwise engaged, and not the type to betray a commitment. Not that that was insurmountable, just that it would take more effort than Jean-Baptiste felt a romantic or sexual relationship should require. He was happy enough with Keir as a diversion.
A week later, Jean-Baptiste found himself invited to social gathering, outside of work. The invitation, oddly enough, had come from one of Keir’s friends rather than Keir himself. Jean-Baptiste hadn’t realized he’d made enough of an impact for Keir’s friends to think of including him. He found himself rather charmed. Perhaps he should spend more time around the other members of the Encryption Unit.
The party was small, informal, and much livelier than any gathering Jean-Baptiste had been to recently. There were perhaps twenty people in attendance, many of whom Jean-Baptiste recognized by face, if not by name, including Keir who was flanked by two lovely women - one of whom could be his female doppelganger, and the other who… well, who could almost be Jean-Baptiste’s.
Well. That was interesting.
Jean-Baptiste approached the three of them, meeting Keir’s eyes and smiling warmly. Keir pulled away from his (cousin, no, more likely sister with that body language) doppelganger, but kept his arm around the blonde woman (fiancée? No, not yet at least) as he held out his hand. “Jean-Baptiste, wonderful of you to come.”
“I was pleasantly surprised at the invitation.” Jean-Baptiste took Keir’s hand and held it just a fraction of a second too long. Keir’s sister (Jean-Baptiste would put money on it now) didn’t notice, but the other woman did.
“Ah, Jean-Baptiste, I’d like to introduce you to my sister,” of course, “Dillian, and this is Melissa.”
Keir’s voice warmed as he introduced ‘Melissa’. There was something there, more than lust, a kind of devotion that almost always led to either a broken heart or wedding bells. Or both. Jean-Baptiste smiled at them both.
Dillian’s gaze was warm and her body language made it clear that she was available. It was a pity that she had the wrong equipment, because otherwise her resemblance to her brother was remarkable. Jean-Baptiste hadn’t thought of Keir as feminine, nor was Dillian particularly masculine for a female, but somehow they managed to avoid androgyny and yet still reflect each other’s features nearly perfectly.
…there might be a paper in that.
Melissa’s body language was rather… less inviting. And not just because she was clearly with Keir. Jean-Baptiste wasn’t used to people instantly disliking him, or at least not without going to lengths to hide that dislike. Interesting.
Dillian suddenly gasped. “Keir, Cele is here!” She sounded inordinately excited. “Let’s go snatch her up before she gets lost.”
Melissa moved to follow, but Keir casually kissed her cheek and disengaged himself. “We’ll just be a moment.” His eyes danced with amusement, and Jean-Baptiste tried to hide his smile.
The dismissal was so obviously a cover-up for a tête-à-tête discussion for a surprise for Melissa herself that when she turned back to Jean-Baptiste with a wholly disgruntled expression, he wondered, not for the first time, if people were deliberately obtuse instead of naturally so.
“So. You work with Keir?”
“Not directly. I’ve been assigned a temporary position as a liaising Socioanalysist with his division, amongst others. I suppose I’d consider Keir more of a friendly acquaintance than a colleague.”
Melissa blinked rapidly and swallowed down her irritation, attempting a smile. Ah. There it was - the veneer of civility over her still present dislike. “That’s so kind. Keir so rarely gets to interact with people of your calibre.”
She shifted gears from resentment to flattery rather smoothly. Jean-Baptiste would have been impressed if he’d had any respect for that kind of talent. “A pity. He really could use more intellectual stimulation.” He smiled brightly at Melissa. “The Encryption Unit is a decent posting, and there are plenty of opportunities for advancement, but I’m certain he feels… stifled there.” Melissa’s expression soured. So, Keir had already discussed this with her. “He’d really be much more at home in academia.” Or developing his own commercial product. Either way he was wasted as a cog in the machine of the Administration.
“Perhaps. But it’s ultimately up to Keir,” Melissa said firmly. “It’s his life after all.”
“So it is.” And Jean-Baptiste was concerned that Keir would, as Melissa seemed to hope, keep his current job. It was steady and respectable, with a bright future, and he’d be bored to tears. But Keir was, Jean-Baptiste knew from hours of conversations, a man for whom practicalities could be overruled by his more ephemeral desires. And it had taken even less time - the span of a breath - for Jean-Baptiste to realize that one of Keir’s desires, probably the most prominent one at this time, was for Melissa.
It was a pity that her desire for him was less enduring and more mercenary. She was a strong woman - the type that Jean-Baptiste should have learned to respect, but mostly found tiresome. She knew what she wanted, and she knew how to get it. And she wanted Keir but, more than that, she wanted the status and respectability that came with him.
The story was too common for words. They would marry and Keir would let her rule his life for… a handful of years. Then he’d seek out his own challenges, probably quit his job and go into research or even start his own company. He wouldn’t cheat, he wasn’t that type of man, and he’d still love Melissa as much as he did now. But he wouldn’t be what she wanted.
After that… Jean-Baptiste gave it less than a year from Keir breaking away from her to a divorce. Anything could be the trigger - an affair, a failed conception license, financial issues, work hours - and it would be over. Keir would, naturally, be devastated, and Melissa would move on.
And Jean-Baptiste could prevent it all, with just a few words.
Melissa smiled over his shoulder, probably at Keir’s return. Jean-Baptiste turned to see a wide, natural smile cross Keir’s face, with just a touch of mischief. He sighed. He couldn’t destroy Keir’s dreams, not before they’d even had the chance to start. And Keir was one of the few men Jean-Baptiste had met who’d actually be able to see through his careful manipulations.
And, he had to admit, if Keir suspected a selfish angle on Jean-Baptiste’s involvement, he wouldn’t be far off.
Keir kissed Melissa’s cheek, looking quite pleased with himself. Melissa seemed caught between chagrin at the public display of affection, and preening at Jean-Baptise.
Jean-Baptiste smiled. Yes, I get it, he’s yours. It was a little tiresome to be sent the same social message dozens of times in a single interaction.
It wasn’t the possessiveness that interested Jean-Baptiste in any case. It was the coolness with which she returned Keir’s gesture. Habitual rather than pointed, it spoke of a natural reticence, a tendency towards discretion.
Basically, Melissa was a prude.
Jean-Baptiste mentally scaled back his estimates. As much as Melissa might attempt to ensure their social compatibility, she wouldn’t ever be able to step far enough out of the box to achieve a sexual compatibility with Keir. A pity, although not a great one. Keir had such simple, yet pervasive needs. Tying oneself to him through fulfilling those needs would have been simplicity itself, had it not been for Melissa.
Then again, Jean-Baptiste doubted even Keir, despite being one of the most self-aware and inwardly honest people he’d met, knew how deep and entrenched his needs were. Having a partner try to control your life was not the same thing as being dominated sexually. In fact, it was probably counterproductive - Keir’s cravings to be forced into submission were purely sexual, unrelated or perhaps even contrary to his natural social desires to maintain control and dominate.
There were dozen of theses written on the topic. Jean-Baptiste hardly wanted to rewalk well-trodden paths.
It was with genuine regret that Jean-Baptiste was forced to write Keir Warrick off as an interesting study in terms of his relationships. The intelligent and rational man who had so entertained Jean-Baptiste over coffees and lunches was unable to maintain that rationality when it came to close interpersonal affairs. A pity; he’d had such… promise.
This entry was originally posted at http://elarielf.dreamwidth.org/32161.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
Characters: Jean-Baptiste Carnac, Keir Warrick, Melissa not-yet-Warrick
Rating: PG
Warnings/Contains: Introspection, judgementalness, oblique references to sexual preferences, dialogue-light
Word count: 2109
Notes: I am not as smart, nor as observant as Carnac. But then again, considering what an ass he is, I'm okay with this, despite the fact that it may affect characterization.
Also, this is actually for SHIRO who wrote me amazing Aaron-fic! ♥
Jean- Baptiste met Keir first, of course.
It was purely professional, Keir was one of the ambitious new techies at Data Division, working on the Encryption Unit, and Jean-Baptiste had recently graduated and started working as a Socioanalyst. He was that rarest of distractions - an enjoyable one. Jean-Baptiste, for his part had been equal parts eager to prove his worth and disappointed at the lack of opportunities and the blandness of his assignment.
They met at a general department gathering, something with stale hors d’oeuvres and a two-drink maximum. Jean-Baptiste had intended to show up, make the rounds, stay for the socially appropriate length of time, and leave. An evening reading and finishing off the Bordeaux from last night sounded far more pleasant than rubbing elbows with the masses.
And then Keir.
They were introduced by Keir’s section manager, a man Jean-Baptiste had pegged as a sycophant and a pillow-biter within the first five minutes of their acquaintance. If the man had been more attractive, Jean-Baptiste might have even considered looking into it as a purely physical diversion. But he wasn’t.
Keir wasn’t what Jean-Baptiste would have considered ‘attractive’ either. Dark and fairly solid-looking, although clearly a desk-jockey, he held himself without arrogance or poise. Which was unfortunate, as better posture could only help detract from his rather obvious underling aura. His face was pleasant enough, but as elegant as his cheekbones were, they drew attention to a rather unfortunately large nose.
His lips were nice. Jean-Baptiste remembered thinking it was a pity nothing interesting was likely to come through them.
He also remembered his precise thoughts just before Keir Warrick spoke to him the first time. “Twenty-three minutes until I can leave.”
“Did you just graduate?”
The question actually took Jean-Baptiste off guard. When people were informed he was a Socioanalyst, they tended to stop looking at him as a person, and more as his job. He looked his age, no older, but that usually wasn’t enough for a new acquaintance to reason how new he was.
Also, it was uncommon, although not exactly rare, to find laypeople who knew just how old a new graduate Socioanalyst would be. Jean-Baptiste judged he had several years on Keir Warrick.
If the question had been asked with anything but the most casual politeness, Jean-Baptiste might have suspected a set-up. As it was, however, he felt he was a good enough judge of people to know that it was asked in fairly innocent, if astute, curiosity.
“Recently. This isn’t my first assignment, but every assignment brings new challenges.” It was a polite answer, politic and noncommittal. Keir nodded and moved to turn away, returning to his group. Jean-Baptiste smiled. “And you? Are you finding your job sufficiently… challenging?”
Keir’s eyes flickered back up to Jean-Baptiste’s face. Jean-Baptiste waited.
“Working for the Administration is a privilege in itself.” Keir’s answer was just as politic as Jean-Baptiste’s had been, if somewhat more guarded. “The level of challenge is… immaterial.”
So… no, then. Here was someone as bored as Jean-Baptiste was, someone who had the presence of mind to see as well as look. Also, his nose wasn’t that big, and his cheekbones and dark eyes balanced out his face well. Put him in a nice suit, stand him up straight, and Keir Warrick wouldn’t look out of place in a group of up-and-coming corporates.
Jean-Baptiste filled all this information away as he nodded and moved away. Demonstrating favourites never ended well, and an idle interest in someone wasn’t nearly enough to justify an office politics fiasco. Still, when he checked the reflection in the punch bowl and noticed Keir’s gaze following him, Jean-Baptiste couldn’t help but feel pleased. He was, after all, quite bored.
It wasn’t hard to arrange for casual meetings at lunch or walking in or leaving work at the same time. There were even a few honestly coincidental encounters, one right after Jean-Baptiste had left the gym flushed and freshly showered. He was nearly speechless at that, worried that it would come off a little overly obvious, despite it being pure chance. Keir, after a moment of unguarded appreciation, however, managed to remain completely professional, and Jean-Baptiste gave him the same courtesy.
That may have been the point that Keir started considering them friends. Or at least friendly acquaintances. Jean-Baptiste had, of course, realized that while Keir liked what he saw, he was otherwise engaged, and not the type to betray a commitment. Not that that was insurmountable, just that it would take more effort than Jean-Baptiste felt a romantic or sexual relationship should require. He was happy enough with Keir as a diversion.
A week later, Jean-Baptiste found himself invited to social gathering, outside of work. The invitation, oddly enough, had come from one of Keir’s friends rather than Keir himself. Jean-Baptiste hadn’t realized he’d made enough of an impact for Keir’s friends to think of including him. He found himself rather charmed. Perhaps he should spend more time around the other members of the Encryption Unit.
The party was small, informal, and much livelier than any gathering Jean-Baptiste had been to recently. There were perhaps twenty people in attendance, many of whom Jean-Baptiste recognized by face, if not by name, including Keir who was flanked by two lovely women - one of whom could be his female doppelganger, and the other who… well, who could almost be Jean-Baptiste’s.
Well. That was interesting.
Jean-Baptiste approached the three of them, meeting Keir’s eyes and smiling warmly. Keir pulled away from his (cousin, no, more likely sister with that body language) doppelganger, but kept his arm around the blonde woman (fiancée? No, not yet at least) as he held out his hand. “Jean-Baptiste, wonderful of you to come.”
“I was pleasantly surprised at the invitation.” Jean-Baptiste took Keir’s hand and held it just a fraction of a second too long. Keir’s sister (Jean-Baptiste would put money on it now) didn’t notice, but the other woman did.
“Ah, Jean-Baptiste, I’d like to introduce you to my sister,” of course, “Dillian, and this is Melissa.”
Keir’s voice warmed as he introduced ‘Melissa’. There was something there, more than lust, a kind of devotion that almost always led to either a broken heart or wedding bells. Or both. Jean-Baptiste smiled at them both.
Dillian’s gaze was warm and her body language made it clear that she was available. It was a pity that she had the wrong equipment, because otherwise her resemblance to her brother was remarkable. Jean-Baptiste hadn’t thought of Keir as feminine, nor was Dillian particularly masculine for a female, but somehow they managed to avoid androgyny and yet still reflect each other’s features nearly perfectly.
…there might be a paper in that.
Melissa’s body language was rather… less inviting. And not just because she was clearly with Keir. Jean-Baptiste wasn’t used to people instantly disliking him, or at least not without going to lengths to hide that dislike. Interesting.
Dillian suddenly gasped. “Keir, Cele is here!” She sounded inordinately excited. “Let’s go snatch her up before she gets lost.”
Melissa moved to follow, but Keir casually kissed her cheek and disengaged himself. “We’ll just be a moment.” His eyes danced with amusement, and Jean-Baptiste tried to hide his smile.
The dismissal was so obviously a cover-up for a tête-à-tête discussion for a surprise for Melissa herself that when she turned back to Jean-Baptiste with a wholly disgruntled expression, he wondered, not for the first time, if people were deliberately obtuse instead of naturally so.
“So. You work with Keir?”
“Not directly. I’ve been assigned a temporary position as a liaising Socioanalysist with his division, amongst others. I suppose I’d consider Keir more of a friendly acquaintance than a colleague.”
Melissa blinked rapidly and swallowed down her irritation, attempting a smile. Ah. There it was - the veneer of civility over her still present dislike. “That’s so kind. Keir so rarely gets to interact with people of your calibre.”
She shifted gears from resentment to flattery rather smoothly. Jean-Baptiste would have been impressed if he’d had any respect for that kind of talent. “A pity. He really could use more intellectual stimulation.” He smiled brightly at Melissa. “The Encryption Unit is a decent posting, and there are plenty of opportunities for advancement, but I’m certain he feels… stifled there.” Melissa’s expression soured. So, Keir had already discussed this with her. “He’d really be much more at home in academia.” Or developing his own commercial product. Either way he was wasted as a cog in the machine of the Administration.
“Perhaps. But it’s ultimately up to Keir,” Melissa said firmly. “It’s his life after all.”
“So it is.” And Jean-Baptiste was concerned that Keir would, as Melissa seemed to hope, keep his current job. It was steady and respectable, with a bright future, and he’d be bored to tears. But Keir was, Jean-Baptiste knew from hours of conversations, a man for whom practicalities could be overruled by his more ephemeral desires. And it had taken even less time - the span of a breath - for Jean-Baptiste to realize that one of Keir’s desires, probably the most prominent one at this time, was for Melissa.
It was a pity that her desire for him was less enduring and more mercenary. She was a strong woman - the type that Jean-Baptiste should have learned to respect, but mostly found tiresome. She knew what she wanted, and she knew how to get it. And she wanted Keir but, more than that, she wanted the status and respectability that came with him.
The story was too common for words. They would marry and Keir would let her rule his life for… a handful of years. Then he’d seek out his own challenges, probably quit his job and go into research or even start his own company. He wouldn’t cheat, he wasn’t that type of man, and he’d still love Melissa as much as he did now. But he wouldn’t be what she wanted.
After that… Jean-Baptiste gave it less than a year from Keir breaking away from her to a divorce. Anything could be the trigger - an affair, a failed conception license, financial issues, work hours - and it would be over. Keir would, naturally, be devastated, and Melissa would move on.
And Jean-Baptiste could prevent it all, with just a few words.
Melissa smiled over his shoulder, probably at Keir’s return. Jean-Baptiste turned to see a wide, natural smile cross Keir’s face, with just a touch of mischief. He sighed. He couldn’t destroy Keir’s dreams, not before they’d even had the chance to start. And Keir was one of the few men Jean-Baptiste had met who’d actually be able to see through his careful manipulations.
And, he had to admit, if Keir suspected a selfish angle on Jean-Baptiste’s involvement, he wouldn’t be far off.
Keir kissed Melissa’s cheek, looking quite pleased with himself. Melissa seemed caught between chagrin at the public display of affection, and preening at Jean-Baptise.
Jean-Baptiste smiled. Yes, I get it, he’s yours. It was a little tiresome to be sent the same social message dozens of times in a single interaction.
It wasn’t the possessiveness that interested Jean-Baptiste in any case. It was the coolness with which she returned Keir’s gesture. Habitual rather than pointed, it spoke of a natural reticence, a tendency towards discretion.
Basically, Melissa was a prude.
Jean-Baptiste mentally scaled back his estimates. As much as Melissa might attempt to ensure their social compatibility, she wouldn’t ever be able to step far enough out of the box to achieve a sexual compatibility with Keir. A pity, although not a great one. Keir had such simple, yet pervasive needs. Tying oneself to him through fulfilling those needs would have been simplicity itself, had it not been for Melissa.
Then again, Jean-Baptiste doubted even Keir, despite being one of the most self-aware and inwardly honest people he’d met, knew how deep and entrenched his needs were. Having a partner try to control your life was not the same thing as being dominated sexually. In fact, it was probably counterproductive - Keir’s cravings to be forced into submission were purely sexual, unrelated or perhaps even contrary to his natural social desires to maintain control and dominate.
There were dozen of theses written on the topic. Jean-Baptiste hardly wanted to rewalk well-trodden paths.
It was with genuine regret that Jean-Baptiste was forced to write Keir Warrick off as an interesting study in terms of his relationships. The intelligent and rational man who had so entertained Jean-Baptiste over coffees and lunches was unable to maintain that rationality when it came to close interpersonal affairs. A pity; he’d had such… promise.
This entry was originally posted at http://elarielf.dreamwidth.org/32161.html. Please comment there using OpenID.