SFB: V
The rain has tapered off to a light drizzle today, though the sky is still iron-grey and cloudy, with no sign of a break in the miserable weather.
They are meeting at the hotel again, the rain clearly visible through the large window behind Perez's seat. Daniels and Stewart are seated on either side of the long table; Stewart is flipping through another manilla folder, and Daniels is idly examining his fingernails.
Perez does not look pleased.
Marcus is expressionless, as he takes a seat at the end of the table.
"Gentlemen," he says politely, with a slight nod to Perez.
"Mr. Goldberg." Perez's voice is calm, almost expressionless. "I apologise for the short notice, but I'm afraid some... concerns have been raised."
Marcus raises one gloved hand, palm-up, in the air above the table; a wordless gesture that says Continue.
Perez looks to Daniels, who straightens.
"To put it bluntly, Mr. Goldberg, we're not entirely sure you've been at all truthful with us."
Marcus raises an eyebrow, lowering his hand to rest on the table.
"Is that so?"
"We look into the people we bring into our confidences rather carefully," Stewart says lazily. "There's not much information about you; that's normal enough, for someone in our positions. Daniels, however, feels that certain things don't add up."
Daniels looks up, face impassive. "Your behaviour is natural enough, Mr. Goldberg; either you have been fooled, you are a very good actor or you are not what you say you are. Since you don't strike me as the sort of man who is easily tricked, that leaves two plausible options.
"The boy with you does not behave naturally. If, as you say, you have had him for some time, his reactions would be different." Daniels smiles a little. "You are purported to be quite the artist, Mr. Goldberg. I had looked forward to meeting a man whose passions so closely resembled my own, and to viewing what he had had a hand in working. Imagine my surprise when instead of a work of art you were accompanied by a man I can only imagine is pretending to be as afraid of you as you would have us believe.
"There is no fear in him, Mr. Goldberg, at least not of you."
A slight smile plays about the corners of Marcus's mouth.
"And why should he be afraid of me?" he asks, voice soft. "My hand has been at work in everything that he is; to all intents and purposes, I am Emperor and God to him. He obeys my every whim, and there is joy in his heart as he does, no matter what I say, be it pain or pleasure. Why, then, should he fear me?"
"There is no joy in him either," Daniels says quietly. "What I do see, Mr. Goldberg, is revulsion, and that would not be present if you and he were what you claim."
Marcus is of course still calm. "He doesn't like you, Mr. Daniels. Nor you, Mr. Stewart, and I believe he has enough reason."
He raises his hand again, in an abbreviated shrug.
"I admit I have been lax in training him not to be quite so modest. I seldom see the need to give public exhibitions, and so I have not had need for him in such a capacity as of yet."
"I wish it was that simple, Mr. Goldberg."
"Perhaps you might be blunt, then."
"Very well." Daniels steeples his fingers. "We require proof that you are who you say you are."
"And what sort of proof would that be?"
Daniels smiles.
"Be imaginative, Mr. Goldberg."
"I think," Marcus says, again with a slight smile, "that you would not like it if I were to be as imaginative as I can. No doubt you would, however, like an exhibition of some sort?"
Perez looks up. "Something along those lines would be sufficient, yes."
"When?"
"This evening."
Perez stands, brushing a speck of dust from his sleeve.
"Gentlemen. Until tonight."
Marcus stands as well, after a moment, and nods his head in farewell, before turning on his heel and walking out the door to the waiting car.