Richard Roma, Glengarry Glen Ross
Well. Wasn't this interesting? A real fun fest.
Ricky Roma took stock of the room, no hurry but not missing anything, not if he could help it. Not looking anything beyond self-assured. Hell, he knew what he was about. And you never let your guard down. Especially not with a group like this. What in - What in the hell was this nutjob operation? ( Read more... )
Ricky Roma took stock of the room, no hurry but not missing anything, not if he could help it. Not looking anything beyond self-assured. Hell, he knew what he was about. And you never let your guard down. Especially not with a group like this. What in - What in the hell was this nutjob operation? ( Read more... )
"Do you actually own any real estate?" He asks suspiciously. He holds up his hand. "Before you answer, consider that I think you should be segregated from the other students until you learn to set a better example to your peers."
"Yes," He hisses, "Your fellow students."
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Automatic response. What? A man ought to take care of his hair. Roma had found you could tell a lot about someone that way, and what he could tell about this glowering son of a bitch wasn't overly complimentary.
And he ignores the remarks about students. Okay, if he's a student, great. It'll be like old times, pulling the work and dicking around. He isn't necessarily opposed to that, though he isn't sure why he should be a student or what he could possibly bother learning, here. "What, you doubt me? Of course I own real estate. And our company owns real estate. Looking to buy some?" He raises his eyebrows, knowing fully well (or assuming, at least) that this character isn't going to want any such thing. Still.
"It's only polite to ask." Wasn't that kind, explaining like that?
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"In any case, when I direct my attention to something - and I would never choose something so vain, selfish and petty - I am at least successful in my endeavours.
"I already own sufficient real estate." He manages a very small sneer, though his 'real estate' is Spinner's End.
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"Oh, oh, ohhhh, watch you, you almost hurt me, there! Next time I'm bathing in flowers-" that one's too much, the absurd image of it, and he cracks a grin, "I'll be sure to think about my failures in life. My long, lonnnnng line of failures. My God, I ought to be ashamed to live, the way I've carried on!" The smile has mostly gone, though it continues to make brief, flickering appearances.
"And my mistake, entirely my mistake! Well, what can you expect, a failure like me? I'm sure you own the most stunning castle this side of the English Channel, don't you? Sir, I have clearly misjudged you!"
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"So, tell me, how have you carried on? Are you satisfied, fulfilled, proud... selling things... moving money back and forth? Muggle money. What are you doing in a school for Witchcraft and Wizardry?"
No, that wasn't right. Women. That was the key to whatever his weakness might be. Loneliness? He had the regret that women were not smart enough and he did not seem to think of men at all. But he was ridiculously proud of his inane profession. Perhaps there was some small thing.
He too is tempted to flutter his hands in parody. Oooooh! Oo-ooo-ooh!
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Roma ran a hand through his hair, grinning. "Tsk, carrying on. Why, I would think you'd be scandalized to hear it! Shall I tell you about the blond last night or the redhead the night before? Or did you mean sales only? Hell, it all runs together.
"But you think of it only as moving money back and forth, you're missing the point of the game. It's all about playing the game. The process."
The grin has returned; this is almost as entertaining as poking at Moss. Almost. "And what about you? How does a handsome guy like you go about carrying on? I'm sure the ladies positively flock to you, so I guess my question is, do you take them one at a time or all at once? Or do your inclinations tend more along the lines of that-" a gesture toward wherever that one had gone, "that fantastic fruit, Albert, Alba... whatever the hell ( ... )
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And a smirk. Because this guy did not look so much like a fruit as a tight-ass cunt, and Roma was already of the opinion that the last time this son of a bitch had seen any sort of action must've been... Well, never, probably.
Roma would have been willing to bet on that.
And wait, wait, back up, back up. What was that about a Hospital Wing? Okay, no. No, that was too fucking much.
"So you're a nurse, is what you're telling me?" Conveying nothing but the deepest respect, of course.
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