wanna work for a boss from hell?

[molotovmartinis.livejournal.com]

WHO: Owen and Balthazar
WHERE: a restaurant
WHEN: lunchtime, a day after Raven's
WARNINGS: horrible ties
SUMMARY: Interview! Balthazar greedily plans on hiring both Raven and Owen but not telling them about each other. WILL THIS PAN OUT?
FORMAT: quickpara?

The obnoxiously trendy bistro Balthazar had chosen hadn't been with Owen's discomfort in mind, unlike his lunch with Raven. It simply seemed a suitable setting, such as might be expected from a businessman such as himself. He'd identified himself to Owen by attire and was indeed wearing the mentioned suit and garish tie; all things considered, he was very nearly All Business, today. Not entirely, however, for he expected something different out of an applicant culled from a community of 'heroes'. He hardly supposed Owen would also be of demonic heritage, but there were plenty of other things he could be. Maybe even oppressively normal, who knew.

Comments

[betwixting.livejournal.com]

An interesting choice, this bistro. Owen stood outside the storefront, one brow raised at the veritably screaming hipness of the decor that snagged in anyone who might deem themselves on the cutting edge. The second interesting choice in what was warming up to be a series. They spoke of one who was flashy, concerned with appearance and leaving an impression.

This meeting promised to be fascinating, if nothing else.

Meanwhile, "oppressively normal" might seem to be good terminology for Owen. Dressed in a dark suit and red tie beneath his overcoat, shoes impeccably shined, the man drew a number of stares from passing clientele, simply for the sheer out-of-placeness of his conservatism in an obviously trendy neighborhood. Owen paid them little attention, holding open the door for a woman with a little stick of a chihuaha, sliding in after her -- though the Puck within him snickered in glee at her faintly bewildered glance.

Oh, yes. This would be interesting indeed.

[molotovmartinis.livejournal.com]

Balthazar glanced immediately to Owen, but registered nothing immediately out of the ordinary apart from, in this context, his attire. The radar he operated on every waking second worked for roughly four groups: humans, demons, angels, and 'others'. He'd only discovered the 'others' option upon coming to this place, and it was an ambiguous thing, perhaps more a perceived lack than an actually perceived distinction.

Still, what were the odds someone dressed like Owen was had wandered in here for lunch? He stood, an even six feet tall in an expensive suit, to catch his eye.

[betwixting.livejournal.com]

Owen took in the interior of the bistro in a sweeping gaze -- and landed upon the man who had stood at his entrance.

. . . That truly was quite the tie. With a nod in that direction, he took his cue and wove his way between tables and chairs, pausing before the table where Balthazar had been sitting.

"Good afternoon." He did not stretch out his hand; he did not sit. He would let Balthazar make the first move.

[molotovmartinis.livejournal.com]

A small tendril of interest sprouted in his mind as he offered Owen his hand, saying, "My name is Blake Angler. Thank you for meeting me."

And he gestured for them to sit, trying to pin down precisely what it was that felt slightly off. With all the insane things that happened in the city, it may well have been merely residue... no, but the other people in this place or in the rest of the city didn't feel like that. This, whatever it was, was too subtle for his senses to identify, or, quite possibly, simply something he'd never encountered before. Perhaps both. Nevertheless, intriguing.

[betwixting.livejournal.com]

"Mr. Angler. A pleasure." Owen shook the proffered hand -- with a hand that, notably, was still gloved. He only removed one of these gloves as he sat, the left one placed onto his lap, closed into a fist. It was not a self-conscious movement, but one of someone accustomed as he laid the spare glove on the table beside the napkin. "Thank you for the opportunity; I can say that you have raised my curiosity."

A slight smile. "I am curious to discover what I can do for you."

[molotovmartinis.livejournal.com]

If he noticed this mild eccentricity, he didn't acknowledge it. The mention of having raised Owen's curiosity brought an ironic smile to his face, but really, it was for the best if both conversationalists were entertained by each other. They might not get very far, but Balthazar had all the time in the world.

"You would find me a less taxing employer in terms of minutiae; I keep and manage my own schedule, appointments, and personal affairs. The more challenging aspect of the job has to do with acting in my stead, as my eyes and ears. Many interesting things happen in a day which do not see print or even online publication. I can't be there for all of them, and so require someone exacting and intelligent to be there for me..." He clasped his hands, fingers interwoven, as the waitress filled their glasses with ice water.

"... so the city is never out from under my eye." Balthazar smiled inquiringly. How did that sound?

[betwixting.livejournal.com]

Owen took a sip of the water provided by the waitress instead of returning the smile, considering the other man over the rim. "To what purpose?"

[molotovmartinis.livejournal.com]

"Profit, Mr. ...? They say war is good for the economy, but I have a certain interest vested in maintaining in the status quo. All this city needs is a little guidance." He wasn't lying, exactly, but the answer had an automatic air of a platitude.

[betwixting.livejournal.com]

"Burnett." There was no point in maintaining the subterfuge of his "hero" name in a business relationship. It would be awkward and ultimately detrimental. "My apologies for not having mentioned it previously. I believe that we are all careful with our names in this place."

As to the response, no, it certainly did not tell him much -- save for the fact that his potential employer was as careful as he was, and private.

Fair enough. But did he have enough information for the proposition to be worthwhile?

Owen placed the water glass back on the table with almost exacting precision. "Individuals do tend to profit from both war and chaos, as you say. Of course . . . only those on the correct side."