Narrative: Zombie Restaurant: The Boss
Weyland had borrowed a car from one of his friends and picked Mortimer up to go and check out some of the real estate spaces they had found online. His driving was cautious and steady and he continually prompted Mortimer to warn him of turns.
"Tell me when."
"It's six blocks away."
"Tell me when."
"Now it's four blocks."
"Tell me when."
"…"
"Tell me when."
"Ok, left now."
It was only mildly annoying, and it made him picture a gaggle of small Weylands in the back of a station wagon with a dad driving and a mum yelling "You missed the turn!" He hid his smile in the maps he'd printed out.
They slowly worked their way around the city, stopping at places and making notes about architecture, traffic, parking and neighborhood demographics. Somewhere in the middle of all that Weyland started calling him "boss." It brought him up short and he tried to laugh it off.
"Oh I'm the boss now?"
"Dude, it's your money on the line." Weyland looked surprised that he would even ask. "It's your ideas. I may be the culinary expert here, but you're gonna be signing the paychecks." He grinned. "That is, if you ever settle on a place."
Mortimer looked down at his notebook and added a little sketch to his notes about the somewhat awkward parking lot at their current subject. As much as he liked the idea of doing things the way he pleased, he wasn't entirely comfortable with being the boss.
He was trying to build some sort of commanding persona in his head. Boss Mortimer wore that officer's coat Ali had gotten him, and wasn't continually fighting the urge to crouch. Boss Mortimer offered his opinions as if other people would follow them. Boss Mortimer could pick between the various converted store fronts and erstwhile fast food joints without second guessing himself.
Boss Mortimer was still largely a stranger.
"Tell me when."
"It's six blocks away."
"Tell me when."
"Now it's four blocks."
"Tell me when."
"…"
"Tell me when."
"Ok, left now."
It was only mildly annoying, and it made him picture a gaggle of small Weylands in the back of a station wagon with a dad driving and a mum yelling "You missed the turn!" He hid his smile in the maps he'd printed out.
They slowly worked their way around the city, stopping at places and making notes about architecture, traffic, parking and neighborhood demographics. Somewhere in the middle of all that Weyland started calling him "boss." It brought him up short and he tried to laugh it off.
"Oh I'm the boss now?"
"Dude, it's your money on the line." Weyland looked surprised that he would even ask. "It's your ideas. I may be the culinary expert here, but you're gonna be signing the paychecks." He grinned. "That is, if you ever settle on a place."
Mortimer looked down at his notebook and added a little sketch to his notes about the somewhat awkward parking lot at their current subject. As much as he liked the idea of doing things the way he pleased, he wasn't entirely comfortable with being the boss.
He was trying to build some sort of commanding persona in his head. Boss Mortimer wore that officer's coat Ali had gotten him, and wasn't continually fighting the urge to crouch. Boss Mortimer offered his opinions as if other people would follow them. Boss Mortimer could pick between the various converted store fronts and erstwhile fast food joints without second guessing himself.
Boss Mortimer was still largely a stranger.