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

[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."

[aphelionix]

He raised a brow at him. "What's funny about it?"

[tactician]

"How is that information useful?"

[aphelionix]

"Won't it look suspicious if I know nothing about my pretend lover?"

[tactician]

"We're in the beginning stages of romance. And no couple knows everything about each other,Herr Cupid," Weiler sing-songed, perhaps banking on the possibility that the alcohol in his system might make Locke a little more susceptible to the use of his given name.

Speaking of given names, though - "Heine."

[aphelionix]

Locke reached up and flicked his nose, but didn't otherwise address the use of his name.

"You want me to call you Heine?"

[tactician]

"No," said Weiler nasally, rubbing his offended nose. "But you asked and I delivered."

[aphelionix]

He looked at him oddly, leaning back and swishing the liquid in his glass.

"Heine," Locke repeated, turning the name over on his tongue. "I'm probably saying it all wrong, anyway."

[tactician]

"Saying it the right way makes me sound like an ass anyway," Weiler chuckled, apparently finding the sound of his own name amusing enough - maybe it was the alcohol? Maybe it had been that long since he had heard his name from another person's mouth. He tipped his glass in Locke's direction with a wink. "Anyway, it isn't as interesting as yours, but there you go."

"Past that, the most interesting thing about us is our jobs, I think you will have to agree. And that we are already well acquainted with," he added, leaning back in his seat. It put him, now, a good few inches away from Locke - intimate enough to be friendly, but hardly in each other's space anymore. Ironically enough, Weiler was most friendly when he was most business-like. "And it hardly matters."

[aphelionix]

Locke looked more interested now. Without his business concerns, he couldn't help but wonder if this was a truer version of Weiler, so to speak. No one could really be that smiley.

"It does," he said, downing the last of his drink and pushing the glass aside. "Just not to anyone else."

[tactician]

"It does, ja?" said Weiler with a huff of amusement, his smile almost sneer-like. He couldn't help it - it sounded like a poor pick-up line. "And why would it matter to you?"

[aphelionix]

"Well it's mean I have an ally, doesn't it?"

[tactician]

"Herr Locke, you are part of the Circle. You have many allies where you don't expect."

[aphelionix]

"Oh, I know," Locke said with a nod. "But it's suffocating, being on that military base. I'm surrounded by enemies. I can't speak with anyone outside my quadrant too much, or I'll be reprimanded. It's a bit of luck, really, that you and I wound up like this."

[tactician]

Weiler smiled wryly. "Now it's luck. You didn't seem too happy about it when we first met."

[aphelionix]

"Well, you were a bit clingy." He returned the smile, despite Weiler's wryness.