It's funny, owning a paper isn't really a job - at least not in the traditional sense. He would never admit it, of course, but Alec contributes nothing of substance to the day-to-day running of the Daily Mail. He has no degree in journalism, nor any particular talent with a camera, and would never lower himself to making copies or handing out cups of tea to the actual employees of this office. Still, his position as owner and apparent financier entitle him to sit in on meetings with the senior members of staff, which is where the young man finds him this evening.
Ordinarily Alec would've taken umbrage at the disturbance and ordered him away, but after a moment, he realises that he recognises the intruder, however vaguely. The man works for Viktor (Alec's sure of that, at least), and it's enough to give him pause - something must be wrong. "Well, consider me stolen," his tone is dangerously pleasant, brokering no arguments as he rises from his seat and smooths his suit in one fluid motion, "If you'll excuse me, gentlemen."
Exiting the boardroom, Alec gestures for the man to follow him to the end of the hall, to the relative privacy of the editor in chief's office. Once they're both inside and the door is closed, he moves to perch on the edge of the desk, his arms folded and an eyebrow raised. No sense in panicking until he has all the facts. "Now, what could possibly be so important that you felt the need to disturb me in the middle of a meeting?"
