The Waiting Room

[tactician]

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."

Comments

[tactician]

Rather than offended, though, Weiler only smiled. "Really? With this face? Although I really can't say there hasn't been varying degrees of experimentation before. Politicians, you know - they are a kinky bunch too."

[aphelionix]

Locke's eyebrows rose.

"Oh? Had to get on the good side of some, did you?"

[tactician]

"Herr Locke, a gentleman never kisses and tells," Weiler replied, barely a gentleman by any measure.

He leaned in to whisper, putting a hand on Locke's wrist. "What is her background like. Does she have family? Lovers?"

[aphelionix]

With a roll of his eyes, his palm turned upward, his own fingers grazing over Weiler's wrist.

"She has an ex-wife, with whom she had a son. She doesn't visit him, though. Doesn't talk to any immediate family. Disagreements over her job. The military is basically her life, though. She chose it over them. Got all that, Mr. Secretary?"

[tactician]

"A cold woman, but she'd break a sweat if something happened to them, I'm sure, even if it wouldn't be much more than that."

Weiler settled back, finishing his current drink and then opting for another. "I think I understand. Everything else will have to wait for proper observation."

[aphelionix]

"Particularly her son," he said with a nod. "Are you planning on something?"

ok weiler tell that to bentley

[tactician]

"The Circle doesn't usually do kidnapping. But it is always better to know than not," he said, like it was the creed of their profession. He glanced up at the bartenders again who, like their occupation required, were occasionally casting glances down the counter in case someone needed a refill. One caught Weiler's gaze and raised an inquisitive brow, but he only smiled and shook his head, motioning to the array of cups still spread out between he and Locke. It was explanation enough.

"Here, let us move somewhere more private," Weiler murmured, plucking a tray from the bartender's side and pulling it onto the top surface. He lined up their remaining cups on it and picked it up, making for a more secluded booth. Now that they had their drinks, they could just burrow in to an enclave and look completely natural.

[aphelionix]

Before Locke could lend a hand, Weiler had already uprooted everything and made his way to the new table. Locke followed along, at least carrying the drink that had been in his hand - though it was towards the bottom. By the time he slid into his seat at the booth, the glass was empty.

"I've heard of a couple exceptions," he added belatedly.

[tactician]

"I've heard of three."

Weiler put the tray down and then, without further ado, pulled Locke forward and all but pushed him into one of the booth seats before promptly scooting in on the same side, sidled up so close he might as well have been on top of the other man. He slipped out one of the square paper napkins from under a glass - one that wasn't entirely wet with collected condensation, and pulled out a pen from who-knows-where (an inside pocket in his shirt, perhaps).

"So just to make sure we're on the same page, let's review - our assignment deals largely with Gladsheim, the current balance of power between the Federation, Gladsheim, and the Circle being..."

It wasn't the most detailed of diagrams on a five-by-five piece of paper that was less-than-ideal for being written on, but it got the pointa cross well enough. Most of the information Weiler was reciting was spoken (murmured soft enough so that only a bug on Locke's physical body would be able to catch it) anyway, and he spoke quicker than most people could probably write. For Locke, it should have been information he was aware of, but it never hurt to realign one's foundations, especially after being ensconced in enemy territory for so long.

"My take on it is that Senator Wallabin decides that he can win some favor with Gladsheim, giving him some planetary backing on the Council. In return he wants to push for some respect from the Federation instead - he's good at attracting sympathy - which will in turn give Gladsheim more leeway in terms of watchdogs, so that they can continue to pilfer from the Circle and other less-supported galactic resources in the meanwhile. We already know they've been building up a weapons base-"

If it hadn't been before, it became painfully clear that Weiler was, for all his flirting and nuances, a member of the Organization.

[aphelionix]

Locke was beginning to believe in Weiler's insane tolerance levels. After roughly the same amount of drink as Weiler, the soldier was hardly concerned with work-related matters. It didn't make him any less coherent in discussing it, though. It was still important business. Though it did make him wonder why the Circle told Weiler he'd be meeting him, and not vice versa. Maybe it was for his own protection, or a last minute realization that the General's assistant was actually a Circle member.

Leaning over the table, shoulder pressed against Weiler's, he watched as the messy diagram was beginning to widen across the small space. Locke was indeed familiar with the situation so far - first hand, even - nodding as Weiler went through the details.

"Gearhorn will be the one representing Gladsheim for all his sponsoring. She knows they need him to get their reputation back in public favor, but she's going to keep him in check, too."

[tactician]

Idly, Weiler scribbled jagged edges on the two circles surrounding Gearhorn and Wallabin, making it seem like two chomping heads facing in each other's direction with pointed, hungry teeth. "Both trying to eat the other up while keeping them in check, fun, fun fun. Sehr interessant."

Finally, he clicked the pen off and deposited it back into his pocket, looking over his shoulder at Locke (who wasn't too far from sight at all). "Have we got it all covered, then?"

[aphelionix]

Locke was looking down at his drawings, a new drink in his hand.

"Didn't know you were such an artist," he stated before looking up. "I think that covers the current situation."

[tactician]

"So now we can have fun," Weiler said brightly, sticking his neck out and leaning into Locke's side.

[aphelionix]

"Oh? Were your doodles not fun?"

[tactician]

Weiler let his gaze drop down to the ruined napkin. "Well, if that's all the fun you need, then I suppose I was happy to provide."

[aphelionix]

Locke laughed and sipped his drink.

"What's your idea of fun?"

[tactician]

"Whatever the client wants," Weiler parroted with a little smirk just peeking over the edge of his cup.

[aphelionix]

"I'm not a client, you know."

[tactician]

"I'm aware. Coworkers are unfortunately less entertaining," Weiler said with a sigh, pushing their last remaining empty cup over to Locke.

[aphelionix]

"How so?"

[tactician]

A flat look.

"In our line of businesss, the most dangerous thing is someone having the dirt on you. Come, Herr Locke, you cannot possibly be inebriated enough to forget that."

[aphelionix]

Locke rolled his eyes.

"You just have an interesting sense of entertainment. Though I suppose no fun in this profession could drive you mad."

[tactician]

Setting his cup down, Weiler scooted back and folded his hands over the table, a picture-perfect posture of good-behavior. "All right," he said, canting his head to Locke. "What do you propose we do to close the night, then? I have the information I need and free drinks. I'm amiable to anything."

[aphelionix]

With a chuckle, Locke downed the rest of the drink he had been holding. The ambient lighting of the bar counter had hidden the flush in his cheeks well, but at the booth with a brighter sconce it was more obvious.

"Free drinks, huh?" His shoulder bumped back against Weiler's. "You could tell me more about you."

[tactician]

Weiler laughed at that, tapping his fingers against the table. "That's a funny one."