mr. mathers

— ❝ my name is mr. brandon mathers. i am thirty one years of age and a biomedical researcher and scientist. you can find me in suite 7B of the apartments in london. ❞

[aprilkepner-greys]

[brandonmathers-blog]

I cannot believe that it is almost the New Year. I swear, yesterday was actually July and everyone's caught in some sort of time paradox.

[dalton-chivers-deactivated20150]

[Overtime wasn’t in her job description and the later it got, the jumpier Dalton became. Every five seconds she looked over her shoulder but this time she was sure she heard someone.] Is anyone there…May I help you?

[brandonmathers-blog]

[ Brandon slipped his hands into his pockets once more, pushing the silent button on his recreational phone once more; dodging personal phone calls seemed to be one of his most redeeming qualities. ] Apologies, ma'am. I didn't mean to startle you. I was told to find someone by the name of... [ he paused, looking at the pristine business card in his hand... ] Miss. Dalton Chivers? I'm in need of a bit of assistance, but of course, if you are getting ready to call it a night, I'm more than happy to call on you at a more appropriate hour.

[brandonmathers-blog]

Blue jeans, white shirt Walked into the room you know you make my eyes burn.

[theformerflyboy]

[Kit barely managed to stop himself from grimacing at the mention of government. The only thing he knew of any government were that they were the assholes who were either ineffective or over-bearing, so he tended to avoid the subject if at all possible.

Instead, he chose to focus on the man. Discreetly, he checked him over; hip, waist, ankle. No weapons on him. When Kit deemed him tentatively nonthreatening, only then did he regard him like he was talking to an actual person. He grinned, clasping his hand firmly.] Doctor, huh? Kit, no title. Pleasure’s all mine. [He eyed the TV again, then looked back at Brandon, his grin fading to a small, knowing smile.] Let me guess. You’re wishing we’d invented faster planes, so you could go over and help, yeah?

[brandonmathers-blog]

[ Returning the firm grasp, a shake, and easy release, Brandon gave the man an easy nod ] nice to meet you, Kit, and you can call me Brandon if you prefer. Let's keep things casual, shall we ? [ His eyes followed back up to the television as news that three hostages had either been released or had escaped. That brought a touch of relief to his mind; he had no relatives or loved ones in Australia, but they were still people and deserved to be treated with dignity. ]

Actually no, front line infantry isn't exactly my calling, [ he responded with a slight smile -- - no, his forte could have been biological warfare, but his work wasn't to be used for that, it was purely for preemptive purposes. ] Though if I did have the skills to do so, I would certainly wish that.

[theformerflyboy]

[Kit had been watching in silence, too, clutching his own coffee between gloved hands, seated in the corner so that he could be well away from the people who were murmuring in concern or muttering about terrorists. But hearing one bloke talk, he wound up responding.]

They’ll be fine. [He knew it sounded callous. Maybe it was. So he offered a bit of a smile.] Australian forces are some of the most tenacious bloody bastards I’ve ever met. They’ll make sure those civilians get away without a scratch.

[brandonmathers-blog]

[ He turned his head at the response of a male onlooker, and wiped the coffee from his bottom lip with a swipe of his thumb, before he flicked his eyes up to the TV again, then back to the unfamiliar face. ]  Oh, I know, underestimating those Australian's would be foolish. Perhaps if they hadn't had a string of thick-headed leaders of their country, they'd be somewhat better off.

[ Catching himself, Brandon set his cup down, ] not to say that this is their governments fault of course -- - extremist and violent terrorist groups are, sadly, everywhere. [ Thinking on his words for a moment, he wondered why the stranger had chosen the military phrase for innocents; civilians; in favour of the more common word; people. Perhaps he was being overly critical. ] I'm sure they will be take care of. [ He extended his hand over to the man, ] by the way, Dr. Brandon Mathers -- - pleasure to meet you, sir.

[haydenmai]

[The response made it feel like the situation had the potential to be awkward - but Hayden wasn’t an awkward person.  So she just laughed it off.]  Fair enough.

[It’s an honest question, and one that she’d asked herself often enough but never quite settled on a satisfactory answer.  And so she shrugs.]  It’s not like we’ve had a heart to heart on it.  Just because I’ve got a mouth like a sailor doesn’t mean I’m not courteous.  I’m fucking nice.

[brandonmathers-blog]

I thought courtesy included proper, polite language, [ he says with a quirked eyebrow -- - she didn't need to know that he swore like a sailor when it came to bedroom antics and people messing up in the workplace ] but that's entirely your prerogative, Miss Red.

So, [ he asks, as the questions rises into his mind ] have you been here long? Or are you a new addition to the books of the Madam?

[evan-wolfe]

[Alcohol and Taz never really went hand in hand. And while there were a few pros to the drinking—increase in confidence and stellar bladder control, the cons completely outweighed them. Horrible balance, increase in chatter, overly large appetite (you get the point). Still, it was nice of the guy to at least ask if he was okay and not shove past him.]  Yeah, I’m okay. I already have pretty shitty balance and drinkin’ didn’t really help with it, maybe I should get a cane to help me next time. [Or maybe duck tape to stop myself from making an idiot of myself.] 

[He grins, before accepting the handshake. Admittedly, he uses the hand more as a crutch than anything else but he catches himself before it becomes too noticeable.] Name? ‘Course, I do. I’d be a weirdo if I didn’t. It’s Taz. What about ya? Or can I try and guess it? 

[brandonmathers-blog]

Well, I can't fault you for enjoying yourself, young man. Even if you might not have your faculties about you right now, [Brandon smiles, broadly, unable to help it - - ] we could always organize you a walker, perhaps? [He ads, with a light chuckle] or if you insist on a cane; a top hat to go in tandem. I feel like it would be a rather nice look on you, young Taz.

[ He takes a sip of his own drink, and raises his eyebrows, licking at his lips to catch the stray droplets of scotch-mixed-cola ] I'm sure you're welcome to guess my name. I could give you a hint, I share my last name with a rapper. --- - but, my first name is Brandon.

[brandonmathers-blog]

I am genuinely concerned by the situation in Australia right now. Those poor people, terrorism touches every corner of the globe, and this is just a reminder of that. [ He sighed and sipped his coffee, turning away from the live coverage ] I cannot imagine what those people are experiencing right now.

[barber-richie]

[He thought about it before grabbed down a glass and made a pomegranate and rum-laced prosecco drink. He set it down in front of the other man and smiled.] Something bubbly and something on the house. I’m James. What’re you celebrating?

[brandonmathers-blog]

You're too kind, young man, [Brandon smiled at him and raised the concoction with a small smile, taking a tentative sip to gauge the flavour. It was quite nice, actually, for someone who didn't oft drink bubbly drinks;] it's a pleasure, James, Brandon Mathers. And I'm celebrating that I didn't lose months of work due to someone's fuck-up, and that one of my grad-students is fully recovered from her accident.

[denverkane-blog]

[They echo each other, for a few scant seconds. Eyes cataloguing each other, analytical and blank faced. The only lit button, 7, glowing impatiently on the wall. Neighbors then.

Denver’s truly not functioning at full capacity, pain starting to override some of his more sharpened senses, but it’s difficult to miss the whisper soft swears the man is muttering, the way the paper is starting to crinkle under tight hands, and the tight twitch to his eyes as they skid across the lines of text. There’s a seal at the top, something American, but Denver can’t catch the letters long enough. The bottom half of the page is obscured by something that looks vaguely like medical data, and Denver files that away as another page in the profile.

There’s sudden, furious movement from him, out of the corner of Denver’s eye, just as his own mobile starts its falsely tinny ring.

O Lord our God arise Scatter her enemies And make them fall

… Likely someone in the tech branch is pissed he didn’t return the equipment in one piece — as if Mi6 doesn’t have enough buckets of money to replace one paltry handgun. Or it’s a national emergency. 

They could bloody well piss off. Denver wouldn’t give a damn if the whole of headquarters was on fire right now. 

He carefully silences it in his pocket, irritating vibration digging into his hip, as his lift-mate begins to truly and impressively hand someone on the other line their arse. 

Cell growth. Active samples. Lab Assistant. 

Not often does Denver get such neatly gift-wrapped insights into people. It’s almost overwhelming, how little work he has to do to get an idea of this man, his motivations, his character, his history. 

American accent. Justifiable anger, but anger nonetheless. Controlled anger. Does not particularly value privacy, tends towards openness if he’s willing to discuss something so serious in the presence of an absolute stranger. Places great stock in intelligence if his impressively-resume’d intern is anything to go by. 

Compassionate. Aware. Finds mistreatment of employees intolerable. Unafraid of ‘grunt work’. 

Built from the ground up? Humble beginnings…? 

There were conclusions that ended in question marks, those Denver stored for later examination, but the man in front of him was giving him almost more information than he could sort through.

It’s unnerving, slipping back into a world where people don’t hold their cards so damn tight to their chest. 

He thumbs through his calendar again, for something to do. Rearranges his physical therapy appointments purely out of spite. 

Filoviridae. It rings a dull bell in the back recesses of Denver’s mind, and it comes to him in pulses. Encoded genomes. Ebola. Viral Hemorrhagic Fever. Marburg. Bodily Fluid Transmission. 

He’d been schooled in possible biological warfare agents, years ago before one of his first assignments in southwest Sudan. The virus wasn’t airborne. Had never been, and probably wouldn’t ever be. But it was terrifyingly effective at bringing entire countries to their knees. 

His paranoia sings through his skin for a second. 

He’s never liked the lab types. Their obsession with way to break the human body down strike him as even more morbid than his own job.

But the conversation is winding down, and Denver only listens with half an ear as the man promises to exact punishment on those whose mistake had cost him all while bright-eyed and concerned.]

[He inclines his head.] You didn’t. I would venture to say that yours was far more pertinent than my own. 

[brandonmathers-blog]

[ He's only aware that the dark man is cataloguing him when he hangs up his phone, because he would have done the same thing. He's not given away much of his person, nothing that he would have offered up in an in depth conversation. He might not have been so up front about his foul mouth, but he'd let bygones by bygones.

Most who ask receive an honest answer about his line of work, though he wouldn't go into such depth as to rant about the Group V experiments and the cell growth of mutated filoviridae RNA strands, but that's by choice and by the desire to not bore his conversational partner to near death.

Obviously, not many people get all up in arms to hear the details of a biomed scientist and experiments in microscopic cell growth. It doesn't make for very polite dinner conversation either. 'Oh, you're having the steak? -- - Hey, did you know that if you contract a strand of the virus I'm currently working on you'll start bleeding from every orifice you have in your body? -- - would you like a glass of wine with that?' Internally he scoffed; no, polite society never wanted to hear about that.

Back to the situation at hand, he chides himself and pulls him mind from the tangent it had strayed off onto.

Depending on the mans level of intelligence, and his susceptibility to the media's sensationalisation of virus' and viral warfare, he may overreact. Life was not like Resident Evil and Contagion, despite what was going on in both fictional and non-fictional media. He looks on, in his peripherals, almost, wondering if he would overract. So far, so good, he notes after a few moments had passed and he folds the message back up, trying in vain to smooth the crinkled edges.

A light smile crosses his face, somewhat self-deprecating;] and I might be inclined to agree, if not for the fact that it was one mistake made by one man, and not the catastrophe that it very nearly was.

[ His work phone chimes in his pocket once more, signalling that a slew of files had been sent through to his laptop, from Grace as promised, with the tagline of the email; I hope you appreciate the time you are taking away from my sleep, Brandon. That brings a smile, wide and unbidden to his face, and he huffs a small smile, trying out a quick reply and bidding her a good sleep after the near 34 hour day she's had dealing with the evac procedures in the California lab.

Almost absently, he half-turns his face towards his elevator companion, though his eyes are still trained on his phone's screen, he remarks in relation to the rant he'd just spilled to Grace about the supervisor who'd been the cause of the near-catastrophe;] do you ever have the feeling that some people are far too dense to be working in a certain field?

[haydenmai]

[The man seems game for her upfront nature, something that Hayden can certainly appreciate.  Most would be running in the other direction by now.  She laughs at the joke, one eyebrow cocking in response.]  Well, there is a doctor’s office room down the hall if you ever get a bug up your ass to mix the two.

Asking about my typical hair color is hardly personal, Doctor.  [Why she kept putting emphasis on the word, she had no idea.]  But you’ll rarely find me anything less than fucking candid.

[brandonmathers-blog]

[ He let out a soft chuckle and took a sip of his drink; ] if I ever feel the desire to play doctor, I'll be doing it in my own time, in the privacy of my own home. But thank-you for the tip.

That is obvious enough, [he muses,] so how is it that the Madam gives you leeway to talk like you do around the residents? I was under the impression that you were supposed to be courteous.

[barber-richie]

[James was in his element. Back in his happy place…the bar. He was still the best damn bartender, but other things had changed. He poured himself a shot of scotch and swung it back before he started on his shift. He wiped down the bar as a customer approached him.] Evening. What can I do you for?

[barber-richie]

[brandonmathers-blog]

Good evening, sir, [he responded in kind, slipping himself into a stool at the bar, the smell of alcohol hanging heavy on the air as it always did when one strode into a bar, pub or club. Not that he frequented the last two any longer.] What would you recommend for someone who's wanting to celebrate a rather good day at work?

[haydenmai]

[Hayden gave an acknowledging tilt of her head while the smirk remained in place.  This one was providing more amusement than any of the other new faces so far, she’d give him that.]  Oh, doctor Brandon Mathers.  So the testicle inspection was purely professional?  [And she’s laughing again, head shaking slightly.]  Red, like the color.  And before you ask, it usually matches the curtains.

[brandonmathers-blog]

[He couldn't help but laugh at her openness, her easy-going nature. She is the shot of vodka at a wine-tasting, that much is obvious. It amuses him far too much,] I don't mix business with pleasure, and I don't inspect genitalia in my line of work so if I was inspecting testicles you can be entirely sure that it was for pleasure purposes. 

Also, I would never ask something so personal, but thank-you for your candidness, Miss Red.

[escortezrabelrose]

[Ezra flinched instinctively when someone grabbed his arm. He twirled around, dropping the remainder of his — thankfully, small — boxes. He blinked at the man, somewhat wide eyed and startled for a moment, like a baby rabbit in headlights, before shrugging his arm gently out his grasp.]

I-I’m sorry.. I didn’t mean to drop these on your feet. [Ezra said quietly, as if he weren’t the phased by the idea of falling down a flight of stairs. He swallowed thickly and knelt down to pick up the boxes, before straightening up. His deep blue orbs flickered briefly over the man. He didn’t recognize him, and a part of Ezra was glad. He looked away. It was literally his job to sleep with people, and yet he still knew that Daniel would later feel the jealously again, and take it out on him.]

[Ezra pushed that thought away.] It’s fine… thank you for helping me. [The ebony haired boy said in a small voice.] I’m okay. A bruise is just a bruise. I’m Ezra… it’s nice to meet you, Doctor.

[brandonmathers-blog]

Please, don't apologize. I honestly just wanted to make sure you didn't hurt yourself, [he saw the way that the young man reacted to the hand on his arm and gently uncurled his fingers even as he pulled away.] And they're empty, I doubt they could have done much damage. Here, please, let me help you -- - [he smiled, and sunk down on one knee beside the small-framed young man and gathered up the ones that had fallen away from him.] Moving in, I take it, [he said with a light smile,] I just finished all of my unpacking myself.

[He watched with somewhat trained eyes the way that thoughts flickered across his face, obviously thinking on the comment that Brandon had made about his injury. It bothered him somewhat, but that wasn't his place -- - not to pry.] I'm glad you are alright, [he replied in kind, gentle eyed smile and an out of place American accent,] It's lovely to meet you Ezra, [he extended a hand towards him,] and please, you can call me Brandon if you'd prefer. Can I help you with any more of these boxes?

[euxlesgarcons]

[cade-gallant]

[Cade shook his head at the apology.] Please, there’s nothing to forgive. Distracting is certainly one way to put it, though I believe that’s the point of the entire establishment. [He stuck his hand out, figuring introductions were in order; even discounting the air of calm, the other man was wearing enough clothes that he could only be a master.] Cade Gallant.

[brandonmathers-blog]

I thought the point of this was to lose yourself in a haze of luxury and lust. [He gives a small chuckle and extends his own hand to the now named stranger,] pleasure to meet you, Mr. Gallant, and I will have to restrain myself from making a pun of your name, though the desire is there. Doctor Brandon Mathers, pleased to meet you.