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.
"I did ask you to make a consideration, too," she reminds him. Stating his opinion is one thing, but actively using his position to sway the United Kingdom's lawmakers against popular right-wing opinion in the United States would be another.
"I didn't go into politics to bleat," he says, not unkindly, taking a corner. (Never the everyman, but someone they can listen to, admire, follow. What the hell is he doing in diplomacy?)
"With all due respect, you speak as though it'll be easy," she says, light, "are you so determined, Caius? Why this issue, then, why not one of the others that's high priority? Or are you simply practicing on the United States for when you return back to the United Kingdom?"
"I see. Do you get what you want, Caius?" Mina should stop using his name that way, or saying it that way, like it's something that belongs to her or that she can wear.
"Frequently." Not always; his left hand clenches on the steering wheel and there's an ache in his heart where his daughter should be at university, pretending she's too grown up now to care about Dad's football matches. She's not and he hasn't had a civil conversation with his wife in years - but he doesn't want to think about his wife when Mina Olin is saying his name like that.
"I have something everybody wants," she says, with a note of decidedly aged cynicism in it, "it tends to vary from person to person."
But she's in his car, is the implication, leaning back in the seat with her eyes half-closed and her fingertips sliding over her collarbone idly, like she's pushing her hair away, or (more truthfully) like she's teasing. Mina can be bold as brass when she chooses, or so quiet no one ever sees her coming, but she prefers the former. She thinks he does, too.
"I'd advise those people to remember nothing is free." In this day and age or any other, for that matter. Caius isn't oblivious, but he's also already splitting his focus between the conversation and the road, and if he lets himself get too distracted (with his driving habits), they're going to plow into a pole.
She shifts forward, then, and...utterly nonchalantly reaches over him (no seatbelts for this girl) to undo the safety locks on her side of the car, pausing for just a moment with her hand on his thigh--for balance--before she retreats back to her side. To roll down the window just slightly, so the air slides over her shoulders and through her hair.
Mina likes Caius. That might not be a good thing for the world.
It's just timing that he inhales when she touches him (surely); he certainly doesn't choke on it, breathing out into the breeze. "I think they could use that reminder."
It's at this point he realizes he's been taking a familiar route simply out of habit, and he almost laughs at himself - but doesn't, because he's not alone and she's not yet someone he trusts. Wants, yes; trusts, no. He'll laugh at other things in her presence, but maybe not himself.
"It seems we're going to the Ambassador's residence. Make your objections now if you have them."
Caius snorts, amused but quiet, and he says nothing else for the rest of the drive to the residence, which will, he somehow suspects, suit her more than well enough.
Judging by the look on her face once they roll up, yes, it's very nice. Not precisely her style, because she favors bolder colors and weirder architecture, but it's beautiful.
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.
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"I did ask you to make a consideration, too," she reminds him. Stating his opinion is one thing, but actively using his position to sway the United Kingdom's lawmakers against popular right-wing opinion in the United States would be another.
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"I didn't go into politics to bleat," he says, not unkindly, taking a corner. (Never the everyman, but someone they can listen to, admire, follow. What the hell is he doing in diplomacy?)
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"With all due respect, you speak as though it'll be easy," she says, light, "are you so determined, Caius? Why this issue, then, why not one of the others that's high priority? Or are you simply practicing on the United States for when you return back to the United Kingdom?"
......... she's not shy, this girl.
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"Why is this issue not a high priority?" Caius asks her, instead of answering, through an exhale. "If it were easy, it'd have been done."
But victories that you're handed aren't victories at all.
"It caught my attention."
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She seems to enjoy his answers.
"I see. Do you get what you want, Caius?" Mina should stop using his name that way, or saying it that way, like it's something that belongs to her or that she can wear.
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"Frequently." Not always; his left hand clenches on the steering wheel and there's an ache in his heart where his daughter should be at university, pretending she's too grown up now to care about Dad's football matches. She's not and he hasn't had a civil conversation with his wife in years - but he doesn't want to think about his wife when Mina Olin is saying his name like that.
"Do you think you have something I want?"
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"I have something everybody wants," she says, with a note of decidedly aged cynicism in it, "it tends to vary from person to person."
But she's in his car, is the implication, leaning back in the seat with her eyes half-closed and her fingertips sliding over her collarbone idly, like she's pushing her hair away, or (more truthfully) like she's teasing. Mina can be bold as brass when she chooses, or so quiet no one ever sees her coming, but she prefers the former. She thinks he does, too.
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"I'd advise those people to remember nothing is free." In this day and age or any other, for that matter. Caius isn't oblivious, but he's also already splitting his focus between the conversation and the road, and if he lets himself get too distracted (with his driving habits), they're going to plow into a pole.
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"Nothing worthwhile."
She shifts forward, then, and...utterly nonchalantly reaches over him (no seatbelts for this girl) to undo the safety locks on her side of the car, pausing for just a moment with her hand on his thigh--for balance--before she retreats back to her side. To roll down the window just slightly, so the air slides over her shoulders and through her hair.
Mina likes Caius. That might not be a good thing for the world.
Reply
It's just timing that he inhales when she touches him (surely); he certainly doesn't choke on it, breathing out into the breeze. "I think they could use that reminder."
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"I'll take out a skywriter."
She looks at him, then.
"Where are you taking me, Caius? I have no preferences, for the record. Or off the record, as we seem to be."
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It's at this point he realizes he's been taking a familiar route simply out of habit, and he almost laughs at himself - but doesn't, because he's not alone and she's not yet someone he trusts. Wants, yes; trusts, no. He'll laugh at other things in her presence, but maybe not himself.
"It seems we're going to the Ambassador's residence. Make your objections now if you have them."
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She settles back in her seat, and says absolutely nothing, which is answer enough. Her smile is knowing again.
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Caius snorts, amused but quiet, and he says nothing else for the rest of the drive to the residence, which will, he somehow suspects, suit her more than well enough.
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Judging by the look on her face once they roll up, yes, it's very nice. Not precisely her style, because she favors bolder colors and weirder architecture, but it's beautiful.
She's curious to see what the inside looks like.
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