Speaking of men, and of watching; it wouldn't do if the man himself weren't in attendance. Naturally he is, and just as naturally he's traversing this party like if he doesn't own it, someone should give it to him and they might. Sharp suit, polished shoes; an engaging smile and an ever-present champagne flute that he rarely drinks from. Ambassador Roy has only been in his appointment for perhaps a year - if that - but he's quietly carving out his name here.
Tonight that means charming wives without embittering husbands, remembering names and sharing opinions, and remaining incredibly tolerant of the pervasive opinion about the usefulness of British ambassadors.
It's a landmark election this year, and Caius is fascinated.
"How generous you are this evening, Ms Olin." Apparently the notion of being in a room with that radical, aside from setting him on solid ground, is mostly serving to sharpen his interest. This is the point at which another man might make his excuses; Caius takes a drink and acknowledges her points.
Her smile flashes sharp and almost-friendly. "I'll let you know when you've entered the realm of my generosity, ambassador."
And she'll let him interpret that as he will.
"If you wanted to pursue that option," she continues, stepping closer, "it would certainly put you a step ahead of your predecessors. With a new president-elect appearing, he's going to need causes, and something addressing the subject of immigration. And in return, I can offer Mexico."
Caius files the remark away without trying (yet) to interpret it, observing her approach, not encouraging nor discouraging. He is, in his opinion, already steps ahead of his predecessors, but that goes unspoken. Maybe she can see it in his eyes - just a little.
"You don't want to condescend," he says, wishing in the back of his mind for a cigarette, "so might I suggest giving me something I haven't written down myself? I know my opinions and I know the climate, but I don't think you're quite carrying Mexico around in your pocket yet."
She notices. She notices everything he does--more than she would with anyone else, but she doesn't bother playing up to his ego any more than she already has.
"On the contrary," she smiles, "that depends on one thing: do you value the people more than the handful of outside individuals who attempt to profit from them?"
Mina touches his arm briefly, as though she's redirecting his focus back onto her. Possibly unnecessary, but she doesn't think he'll really mind. Attraction is something she feels here as strongly as the awareness that one wrong move could send it all spiraling downward, but she'll watch a little closer to see how susceptible he is.
(Please note how she doesn't even consider the idea that it's not reciprocated.)
"I want my country to have help," she says, briefly very genuine, "and since most of the people in present power will not, I'm asking for yours'. Your consideration of pushing the development forward is all I ask."
"A country is her people, Ms Olin, not her king." He's English, officially titled Her Majesty's Ambassador; he's allowed to think like a monarchist. The attraction isn't going unnoticed and isn't insignificant, but this is shop talk and whatever he wants to do to her in the bedroom doesn't have a place in it. (...yet?)
He smiles very briefly, over his glass; maybe it's the sincerity.
"I've made my opinions known and I'll stand by them."
There's a knock at the door just then, and whatever she was about to say goes unspoken. Her smile, however, brightens, and she waves a hand, sighing as though this is simply a minor interruption.
"I'm afraid I'm not actually supposed to be here." Meaning that yes, Caius, feel proud: this young woman actually trespassed and casually evaded security to come and see you. She's not entirely comfortable with how the meeting has gone, but she has moves yet to make.
"Which means I should be going, perhaps..." She drops her hand and steps away. "Would you like to continue this conversation elsewhere?"
Trespassing, probably about to be snapped up by security, and occasionally considered an open incitement to riot in and of herself; his answer should, plainly, be no. She asked very little of him and he's already given it. Whatever business she has with him is concluded.
...but he's wondered, you know, about this remarkable young woman some admirers call a goddess.
The young woman in question regards him for a moment, as though she knew he'd take her up on it, and tips her head to one side.
"This way." There's another door there. She abandons their drinks in favor of a swift exit, intending to take them round the other way to find the coat-check girl and presumably his keys. Mina doesn't mind his driving--it gives her plenty of time to test his ability to keep his eyes on the road.
Caius casts a brief thought to what the hell rumours he's going to wake up to tomorrow morning (you could say he then puts it out of mind, but he is at the end of the day a politician first - and so he doesn't). He follows her, to collect his coat, and yes, his keys. The keys to his pride and joy, a very lovely top condition Aston Martin.
He's not the kind of man who lets anyone else drive him, and absolutely not the kind who lets anyone else drive his car.
Her coat is long and probably Chanel, for the record. She pauses just outside the Aston Martin, giving Caius a long, amused look. "This," she says, indicating the car, "is the sort of thing that overrides even the most divisive of political issues."
Also, if he doesn't open the door for her, she's going to be a lot less nice to him.
She'll wait until he's in the car to do three things: one, she shrugs her coat off again, because she did not put on a top like that to let it go unseen; two, she reaches back and unpins her hair, which is so straight and simply cut it doesn't require much more than a run through to let it fall loosely over her shoulders, and three, she laughs a little at the formality.
"Caius," he returns, tossing his coat and jacket in the back. He doesn't roll his sleeves up or loosen his tie, but maybe she can tell that if he were alone in the car, he would. The cigarette case - silver, engraved - comes out of the lining pocket before he abandons the jacket, though.
She doesn't smoke, actually, so there will be no bonding over mutual affinity for nicotine, but she'll happily watch him smoke and drive simultaneously.
Actually, she's kind of waiting to see where they go, and intentionally not saying anything about her preferences to see if he takes her somewhere particularly interesting. (Like his place? No, Mina, bad girl.)
Caius doesn't ask if she minds, because this is his space and his own evening indulgence after time spent circulating. He drives like he knows exactly how far both car and road can be pushed and intends, on principle, to do no less. (A madman, then, but one with a method.)
"You came an awfully long way to ask me to agree with myself."
Speaking of men, and of watching; it wouldn't do if the man himself weren't in attendance. Naturally he is, and just as naturally he's traversing this party like if he doesn't own it, someone should give it to him and they might. Sharp suit, polished shoes; an engaging smile and an ever-present champagne flute that he rarely drinks from. Ambassador Roy has only been in his appointment for perhaps a year - if that - but he's quietly carving out his name here.
Tonight that means charming wives without embittering husbands, remembering names and sharing opinions, and remaining incredibly tolerant of the pervasive opinion about the usefulness of British ambassadors.
It's a landmark election this year, and Caius is fascinated.
Reply
"How generous you are this evening, Ms Olin." Apparently the notion of being in a room with that radical, aside from setting him on solid ground, is mostly serving to sharpen his interest. This is the point at which another man might make his excuses; Caius takes a drink and acknowledges her points.
"Go on."
Reply
Her smile flashes sharp and almost-friendly. "I'll let you know when you've entered the realm of my generosity, ambassador."
And she'll let him interpret that as he will.
"If you wanted to pursue that option," she continues, stepping closer, "it would certainly put you a step ahead of your predecessors. With a new president-elect appearing, he's going to need causes, and something addressing the subject of immigration. And in return, I can offer Mexico."
Reply
Caius files the remark away without trying (yet) to interpret it, observing her approach, not encouraging nor discouraging. He is, in his opinion, already steps ahead of his predecessors, but that goes unspoken. Maybe she can see it in his eyes - just a little.
"You don't want to condescend," he says, wishing in the back of his mind for a cigarette, "so might I suggest giving me something I haven't written down myself? I know my opinions and I know the climate, but I don't think you're quite carrying Mexico around in your pocket yet."
'Yet' is pointed.
Reply
She notices. She notices everything he does--more than she would with anyone else, but she doesn't bother playing up to his ego any more than she already has.
"On the contrary," she smiles, "that depends on one thing: do you value the people more than the handful of outside individuals who attempt to profit from them?"
Mina touches his arm briefly, as though she's redirecting his focus back onto her. Possibly unnecessary, but she doesn't think he'll really mind. Attraction is something she feels here as strongly as the awareness that one wrong move could send it all spiraling downward, but she'll watch a little closer to see how susceptible he is.
(Please note how she doesn't even consider the idea that it's not reciprocated.)
"I want my country to have help," she says, briefly very genuine, "and since most of the people in present power will not, I'm asking for yours'. Your consideration of pushing the development forward is all I ask."
Reply
"A country is her people, Ms Olin, not her king." He's English, officially titled Her Majesty's Ambassador; he's allowed to think like a monarchist. The attraction isn't going unnoticed and isn't insignificant, but this is shop talk and whatever he wants to do to her in the bedroom doesn't have a place in it. (...yet?)
He smiles very briefly, over his glass; maybe it's the sincerity.
"I've made my opinions known and I'll stand by them."
Reply
There's a knock at the door just then, and whatever she was about to say goes unspoken. Her smile, however, brightens, and she waves a hand, sighing as though this is simply a minor interruption.
"I'm afraid I'm not actually supposed to be here." Meaning that yes, Caius, feel proud: this young woman actually trespassed and casually evaded security to come and see you. She's not entirely comfortable with how the meeting has gone, but she has moves yet to make.
"Which means I should be going, perhaps..." She drops her hand and steps away. "Would you like to continue this conversation elsewhere?"
Oh.
Reply
Trespassing, probably about to be snapped up by security, and occasionally considered an open incitement to riot in and of herself; his answer should, plainly, be no. She asked very little of him and he's already given it. Whatever business she has with him is concluded.
...but he's wondered, you know, about this remarkable young woman some admirers call a goddess.
"I'm driving."
Reply
The young woman in question regards him for a moment, as though she knew he'd take her up on it, and tips her head to one side.
"This way." There's another door there. She abandons their drinks in favor of a swift exit, intending to take them round the other way to find the coat-check girl and presumably his keys. Mina doesn't mind his driving--it gives her plenty of time to test his ability to keep his eyes on the road.
Reply
Caius casts a brief thought to what the hell rumours he's going to wake up to tomorrow morning (you could say he then puts it out of mind, but he is at the end of the day a politician first - and so he doesn't). He follows her, to collect his coat, and yes, his keys. The keys to his pride and joy, a very lovely top condition Aston Martin.
He's not the kind of man who lets anyone else drive him, and absolutely not the kind who lets anyone else drive his car.
Reply
Her coat is long and probably Chanel, for the record. She pauses just outside the Aston Martin, giving Caius a long, amused look. "This," she says, indicating the car, "is the sort of thing that overrides even the most divisive of political issues."
Also, if he doesn't open the door for her, she's going to be a lot less nice to him.
Reply
Of course he opens the door for her. "This is a damn fine machine, Ms Olin," he says, and closes it again for her, as well.
Reply
She'll wait until he's in the car to do three things: one, she shrugs her coat off again, because she did not put on a top like that to let it go unseen; two, she reaches back and unpins her hair, which is so straight and simply cut it doesn't require much more than a run through to let it fall loosely over her shoulders, and three, she laughs a little at the formality.
"You can call me Mina," she suggests.
Reply
"Caius," he returns, tossing his coat and jacket in the back. He doesn't roll his sleeves up or loosen his tie, but maybe she can tell that if he were alone in the car, he would. The cigarette case - silver, engraved - comes out of the lining pocket before he abandons the jacket, though.
Reply
She doesn't smoke, actually, so there will be no bonding over mutual affinity for nicotine, but she'll happily watch him smoke and drive simultaneously.
Actually, she's kind of waiting to see where they go, and intentionally not saying anything about her preferences to see if he takes her somewhere particularly interesting. (Like his place? No, Mina, bad girl.)
Reply
Caius doesn't ask if she minds, because this is his space and his own evening indulgence after time spent circulating. He drives like he knows exactly how far both car and road can be pushed and intends, on principle, to do no less. (A madman, then, but one with a method.)
"You came an awfully long way to ask me to agree with myself."
Reply
Leave a comment