[OPEN] Where he went to, he hardly knew.

[depicted]

Characters: Dorian Gray and YOU!
Date: The span of this week, ish.
Location: Various places in Keeliai
Situation: Also various. May feature magic carpets!
Warnings/Rating: As always, default at rated 12 for allusion to sex, drugs, and violence (because Dorian Gray). Now with bonus rating P for Politics & Philosophy and whatever the rating for fade-to-black and smart decision-making is.



[Use prose or brackets as you prefer, and I will match!]

Comments

Bruce is a troll and why does Dorian like him anyway [CLOSED]

[depicted]

[Dorian dislikes waking up for 6AM, so, genius as he is, he just doesn't go to sleep. A shower, a cigarette, and a coffee are enough to keep him awake. The sun isn't rising yet, for which Dorian is grateful. He hates to watch sunrises.]

[But Dorian doesn't look like he has done an all-nighter. When he arrives at the address, he is fresh-faced, bright-eyed, and dressed for business in that nice Armani suit that washed up with him.]

[cowled]

[And like Dorian, Bruce also hasn't slept, albeit for entirely different reasons. Also like Dorian, he looks none the worse for wear - courtesy of some fifteen years of this particular habit. There's a shower in this particular warehouse (the evidence of which is his hair still being slightly damp) and he's wearing all the sundry pieces of a suit, sans jacket but with a tie that's been loosened off at the throat. His shirt sleeves are rolled up with a neat, military precision to his elbows and he's idly going over schematics when Dorian arrives.

Bruce doesn't so much as look up.]

I don't suppose you're a fan of mochas. I had some made.

[He points to a table behind him and to the right. Help yourself, Dorian.]

[depicted]

[Dorian stops on seeing Bruce, takes him in. It heightens that sense of a game being played, already present from that business card tucked away in Dorian's pocket. A thoughtful thumb slips behind his fingers.]

[But he smiles, though Bruce can't see it, bright as the sun.] Thank you. [As small a thing as it might be, Dorian is genuinely moved by the surprise. Youthful emotion overtakes experienced wariness, and it's with a small, childlike expression of pleasure that he comes to Bruce's side, mocha held in both hands as he sips. He looks on the schematics in curiosity, but asks no questions.]

[cowled]

[There's a sense of movement in the air, and Bruce doesn't need to turn and look to see where Dorian's standing.

He sweeps a hand out over the schematics.]

What do you think?

[The building is small, to suite Keeliai style, but utilitarian enough for all that. There are rooms meant to be dormitories, a communal kitchen. It's elegant, efficient, quake-proof and obviously an orphanage.]

[depicted]

[Dorian studies it a moment.] I think I know little about architecture, but a little more about artifice. [Accusing Bruce of deception in a mild voice?] The building is well-designed, fits form to function with almost mathematical beauty. It will do a great deal with little. [Apparently not. 'Artifice' as in 'craftsmanship,' then.]

[Except there is still that other meaning of 'artifice.']

[cowled]

[Bruce doesn't quite smirk, but it's a near thing.]

Excellent. I'll have the final zoning permits pulled for these, I should be able to begin construction sometime in early or mid-March.

[He rolls up the plans handily and stashes them in a tube, they join a rack of similar ones against the wall. There's absolutely no indication that Bruce is ill at ease here, or in anything save his own element. He's power and will dressed up in a sharp suit, but his smile when he turns back to Dorian is a touch apologetic.]

I hope you don't think too badly of me. I don't like discussing work at Favrielle's.

[depicted]

[Unfortunately for Dorian's better judgement, it's a nice smile on a handsome face. If there was any trace of annoyance, Dorian forgets it and forgives Bruce any deception.]

How could I think badly of you when you have been so kind? [He slightly raises his cup, as if in a tiny toast.]

[cowled]

[And that smile remains, albeit somewhat crookedly.]

My motives aren't quite so altruistic as you might believe. I'm short-handed right now and I could use the help. Frankly, I don't like numbers. If you'd like the job, it's yours.

[Oh who is he kidding Bruce could look after his company's finances in his sleep if he had to. It's just that he doesn't actually want it to come to that.

It may have taken him some fifteen years, but he's learned the fine art of delegation.]

[depicted]

[That a boy, Bruce. Try not to be even more ridiculously overworking.]

[Dorian, however, is pleased to take the job, and also has little faith in altruism as a general rule, so he answers warmly.]

I'd love it. [After a sip of mocha, he adds, all innocence,] But I heard the boss was positively ghastly. It does give me some reservations.

[cowled]

Ghastly isn't the half of it. I hear he's downright tyrannical. You'd do well not to push his buttons, such as they are.

[Bruce Wayne is a master of self-deprecation, and he smiles a little to show just how unserious he is about the matter as he goes to pour himself a cup of mocha.]

[depicted]

[Dorian can imagine himself really enjoying working for Bruce and is happy he was given the offer. So charming, Mr. Wayne. So charming, so straight.]

I wouldn't be so harsh. Perhaps his buttons simply need to loosening up.

[This innocent puppy face did not just flirt with Bruce Wayne, what are you talking about?]

[cowled]

[And god help him, he doesn't have the slightest compunction about flirting right back. Charming, yes, straight, yes. Slightly playful troll? Absolutely.]

I doubt that. Someone needs to crack the whip around here, otherwise nothing would ever get done to his satisfaction.

[depicted]

[Dorian makes a tragic face, but there is no hiding the amusement behind it.] Ooh, don't tell me I'll end up chained to the desk.

[cowled]

That depends entirely on whether or not you appreciate chains, Mr. Gray.

[Bruce lifts his cup in a little salute, his own amusement obvious in one upturned edge of his mouth.]

[depicted]

Ribbons tend to be more aesthetic. You can ask Favrielle if you want details.

[Dorian finishes off his moca before setting it down. He is willing to break the flirting a moment for a hint of professionalism.]

Was there anything you wanted to get me started on, anything else I need to know?

[cowled]

I think my imagination is more than sufficient on the subject.

[And then he takes a sip of his mocha, gestures to a desk along the far wall.]

There's a folio there with everything relevant to your employ. All my records and accounts. All I ask is that you have a comprehensive report done on a bi-monthly basis. The work is steady, but easy enough. It won't need more than a few hours of attention a day, at least until we're turning over more of a profit. You're welcome to come in whenever you wish, keep whatever hours you like, and charge me exorbitantly for your time so long as everything is up to date and in order in a moderately timely fashion.

[depicted]

[Now that is a good deal. He raises his eyebrows, but walks over to the desk and flips through the material. Compared to the work he was doing a few months ago, it's nothing.]

Sounds perfect.

[cowled]

Then the job's yours.

[He lifts his mug in a slight salute of acknowledgement.]