circle7 | The Waiting Room

Being led to the waiting room was more akin to being brought on a full-scale tour of the floor than any beeline route. The layout of the Senator's office was linear in nature, with one winding passage through the space that passed by nearly every single room in succession, designed probably with the mindset that a person could follow only one path and turn off into their desired destination sooner or later. It was aesthetically and theoretically sound, but architecturally and practically wasteful, making it perfect for a politician.

At the very end, two large polished doors, painted to look like archaic mahogany (if that species still existed in this day and age). They glistened with the evidence of a very good cleaning crew and swung inwards to reveal a square, stately room, lit in the center by a low-hanging crystal chandelier. An ornamental rug lay on the ground, covering most of the floor space, and upon it rested two plush couches and a low coffee table, adorned with a contemporary vase of some sort. The couches, made of black leather, shone dully in the warm light, and atop one of them was the Senator's secretary, sitting cross-legged with a cigarette hanging from two of his fingers.

Weiler looked up as the doors opened, raising a brow minutely when he saw who entered. He then put out his light on the nearby ashtray and swept himself to his feet in one fluid motion. "General," he greeted, voice smooth despite the vice. When addressing military personnel, it was best to be militant - being to-the-point would suffice. "The Senator is waiting for you in his personal office space. He assured me that you would appreciate the privacy."

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"Ah, I see," Weiler said, glancing up at the semi-hidden camera blinking red just behind the foliage of a decorative plant.

It seemed as though Gladsheim, in general, was going to be a grand hassle. It was too risky here to do anything other than falling back to the age-old techniques of observation and eavesdropping. He would have to wait until he was off-planet on some of Wallabin's errands to even report.

"What a tough job you have," he cooed, for good measure

It was indeed a grand hassle, but Locke would have to tell him all about that later. They were currently working on getting one of their men onto the war council, but it too was not without difficulty. Locke was the closest they came to it, when it got down to old-fashioned eavesdropping. For the rest, they had to depend on pilfering information digitally, which could take days. It was a risky waiting period.

"It's not so bad. We get days off. Sometimes."

Locke strode back over to the door, waiting to the left of it.

"Are there any other areas you'd be interested in, senator?"

Wallabin looked up from where he was reclined in the seat at the end of the table, opening one eye and then another. For someone who didn't have an ounce of military experience in his body, he certainly seemed as though he was making himself at home.

"Oh, no, I think you've just about covered it. I suppose it wouldn't be too much of a hassle to arrange transportation for me to retire to my accommodations again?" he asked, slowly getting to his feet. After standing, he brushed himself off as if the impeccable leather seat had left something unsavory on his overly-expensive suit.

"You must be tired, Senator. I'm sure something can be arranged," Weiler echoed, glancing at Locke. "Why don't you rest a little in the canteen while I see about arranging vehicle service? Nick, would you mind showing me where I could do that?"

"Not at all," Locke said, leading them out of the room. The door closed behind them with three loud clicks of bolt locks. He directed them the same way they came, stepping off the elevator at the first floor this time.

"The canteen is straight ahead, senator. And take this," Locke said, handing the senator a different plastic card, shaped much like an old-fashioned, paper bookmark. A chip was at the bottom, where one slid it into a slot to make an order. "It will cover any refreshments you may like."

"He's going to complain about how there was no Pinot Grigio available once I get back," said Weiler, but only after Wallabin had disappeared into the canteen, and not without one last unsure glance, like a child being told to go off on his own for the first time.

Though Weiler had been taking careful stock of the surveillance in every area they passed, it was impossible to tell without proper researched blueprints where every lens was. There might have been a few hidden in the most inane of hiding spots. He had no way of saying where the walls had eyes, and even now, in the privacy of Locke's sole apparent company, Weiler cast wary glances around the hall with his eyes.

"It must have been hard for you," Weiler said sympathetically, sauntering up to Locke with a scheming smile. "Putting up with the Senator's whims all day."

"I can't imagine dealing with it twenty-four, seven." Locke smiled sympathetically back, steering them leftward. "But he's more polite than I'm used to, anyway."

Allowing himself to be moved about, Weiler gave a dramatic sigh, shrugging exaggeratedly at the comment. "What can I say, dealing with people is both a weak and strong point for the Senator."

They passed through some heavy swinging doors, into the lobby the senator and his assistant no doubt entered from. (It was a lot nicer than the rest of the base, and definitely not where the soldiers, uppers and staff got to enter from.) Upon seeing Locke, the guard let them pass through with a salute, which Locke returned.

"That woman there will help you with arrangements," he said, gesturing to a circular desk in the middle of the lobby. "Also, as it so happens, Milo, I don't have any engagements for the next two days. If you'd like to get together sometime." Locke had enough foresight to appear modest and hopeful as he suggested it.

"Well, the Senator will be busy getting his affairs in order for the next few days," Weiler answered, curling his fingers around Locke's left shoulder. "But isn't the military a little more strict about that sort of thing?"

Would they be suspicious if we met that often?

"Incredibly," he agreed. "I'm only allowed off base for personal reasons once a month. I doubt you want to visit me here, though. The food is awful."

Once a month should be fine. But really, the food is terrible.

At the mention of food, Weiler's lip curled - one of his more honest expressions. He had always been a little more particular about what he put in his stomach. "I suppose I should consider myself fortunate that I'll be residing in the Senator's estate, in that case."

Withdrawing his hand, Weiler crossed his arms over his chest, raising a brow. "So that's it? You're going to make me come to you otherwise? What a hard catch you're turning out to be, Mister Avery."

"Oh? Going to miss me?"

"Not used to paying this much effort," Weiler answered wryly.

Locke grinned at that.

"I'd offer to compensate you, but I'm sure your senator is missing his Pinot Grigio about now. Perhaps another time."

Weiler huffed out a breath of amusement, turning toward the circle desk with his back to Locke. He shrugged an indifferent shrug. "I suppose I will have to see you some time during the next few days to take you up on that offer then, soldier."

"I look forward to it," he answered, relenting a small chuckle of his own with a harmless gaze up and down the other man's back before standing aside to wait, hands behind his back.

The Waiting Room

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AND A MISSING PERIOD THERE

LOL i never notice these things until you point 'em out

OMG MY PHONE DELETED THIS TWICE

EVIL PHONE

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but first a tag

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