(Untitled)

[almost_arabian]

Lawrence is perched near the fire with a cup of tea in hand, a map stretched across his lap haphazardly.

He only appears busy - really he's not doing much of anything.

Comments

[yuppie_trash]

"Where in the world is that?" Elegant forefinger tapping the edge of the map.

[almost_arabian]

He swats neatly at the offending finger.

"I'd ask you to keep your hands off, as the ink is still drying. It is a small area of desert in Iraq."

[yuppie_trash]

An eyebrow raises, and he flicks the corner of the map just so that he might feel self-satisfied. Smile strained, and very polite while asking, "Ah. Independent yet?"

[almost_arabian]

"In a manner of speaking, but it apparently does not last quite so long as I would have liked it to."

He shakes his head.

[yuppie_trash]

He shrugs his shoulders, opening his hands wide to either side of him, "Tough break, Eddie."

Shrugs off his blazer, folding it across his lap when he sits down.

[almost_arabian]

If he wasn't so nice, Lawrence might've looked irritated.

"Do avoid calling me that."

[yuppie_trash]

"Laurie?" Patrick offers, straight-faced.

[almost_arabian]

"I think we both know the answer to that."

He doesn't look pleased.

[yuppie_trash]

Dry, "It was a joke, Mr. Lawrence. There is no need for the steadily increasing anger."

He pauses, picking a stray thread from his vest with a resigned expression. "How are you?"

[almost_arabian]

"If I honestly thought it was of any consequence to you how I am, I would in fact tell you."

He arches a brow.

[yuppie_trash]

Curls a hand into a fist, inspecting his fingernails, "No argument here."

[almost_arabian]

He shrugs faintly.

"And I suppose it is polite to ask how you are."

[yuppie_trash]

"It would be polite, but we have already conquered the question of this alleged courtesy. It is not here."

Buffs his nails against his chest.

[almost_arabian]

"Of course not."

A smile. He pulls out a cigarette and smokes.

[yuppie_trash]

The space between manicured eyebrows is marred with several deep creases, for a moment, but smoothes out when he retrieves a half-spent cigar.

A gold-toned lighter is next, and he smokes.

Quite contentedly, "Certainly not." Teeth bared, he smiles, "I hardly mind."

[almost_arabian]

"I should think not."

He watches this with some curiosity.