— < ▼ > The car was late. Very late. Trench impatiently stood in the same spot, angered and waiting. Why the hell was it so late? He’ll have to fire the driver. There’s no other way around this. There’s no reason that The Director should be late due to somebody else’s negligence.
He cleared his throat, considered a smoke, but then realized the front desk employee would be livid with him. He didn’t have the patience to be polite to strangers let alone argue with them. He got enough of that with the boy, or with Dr. Darling. He knew he didn’t have the strength to play nice most days anymore. Even if it was his own fault… And he’s definitely not waiting outside in the early morning cold, because if he went out to smoke, he’s definitely not going back inside.
The man checks his watch, notes that it hasn’t been as long as it felt. This was an utter hassle. Trench rolls his eyes, annoyance oozing off of him. Something that usually made his neighbors steer clear of him the few times he does run into them, thankfully—that was not often. Despite that statement, a face he hasn’t seen before gets out of the elevator. Trench spares them a glance, but then quickly loses interest and continues waiting. The interest doesn’t reignite even as the other walks past him, to the mailboxes. Instead, all that Trench feels is anger.
— < ▼ > Trench was just outside of the apartment complex, having a smoke one (considerably) nice evening. He’d usually pay little mind to passersby who gave him dirty looks, but here was Dr. Mallory making an appearance. Only to stop in front of the other man and say that.
The nasty thing was just on his right eye, definitely less red at this point. Had it been one of Trench’s management team members (Salvador and Marshall could take care of themselves, to some extent same applies to Tommasi) he would be livid and whatever care he had would come to be displayed to it’s full extent. Perhaps, with some twisted vigilance. But this was Adrian. A man he considered to barely know.
So, instead, Trench puffs out smoke after a pause of quiet and smirks. ❝Yeah, so pretty I might get myself one, too...❞
[quiet jealousy] - Your muse becomes jealous over my muse for whatever reason, and expresses it non-verbally, lingering closer to my muse than usual, touching them casually, etc.
The stunt at the gala went better than anticipated for Pascal. Not only were there other serious bidders for a possible date with Maxwell, but he also managed to outbid them all. As Smart walked away from the crowd and towards the man he’d have to spend the rest of the evening together—not like he wouldn’t have chosen to do that anyway—he’s stiff and embarrassed beyond belief. Maybe a little proud that several people wanted …him. Okay, that felt odd to say. Max isn’t sure how he felt about that. But being “sold off” for the night at a hefty sum wasn’t exactly how he anticipated this “date” to go.
One means, it did start sort of as a date, but now it’s a paid date. Is this cheating in regards to the bidding? Did he get tricked? Why did Pascal do this? Okay, now he was confusing himself. This just felt off, that’s enough.
“Ah, Maxwell… didn’t this just end beautifully!”
❝What if somebody else won!❞ Max whisper shouts at Sauvage, who throws up his hands in mock-defense.
“Well, that would have been most unfortunate.” A smile on his lips betrays he wouldn’t have let that happen, but the operative doesn’t calm down. He’s about to make another jabbing comment when a woman approaches the two of them. She eyes the Frenchman oddly then smiles at Max.
❝Hi…?❞Smart mutters, trying to distract from the one-sided argument that took place here seconds ago.
“I’ve got to say, I’m disappointed in losing out on this, but I suppose— friends have each other’s back, right? “Her smile bears teeth and Max mirrors it at her—she was beautiful, mind you, so it was no surprise. However, Pascal steps closer to Maxwell places a hand on his back and looks most annoyed at this woman, than anything has ever before irritated him.
“Yes, well, I suppose we best be on our way, Maxwell.” With that, he pushes the spy further away from the crowd (and most importantly, that woman).
❝Are you…jealous? ❞Max says once he’s been dragged halfway across the building, and they’re finally more alone.
“Non! I am not.” Pascal’s tone is still holding anger. Mostly directed at the lady, somewhat at Max for even reacting to her… Smart laughs and they’re outside when he finally adds:
❝Oh my god, you are jealous! ❞Max grins now, wider. Digs his heels into the ground to prevent Sauvage from taking him out of there.
“Oh, come now… We were supposed to be on a date, weren’t we—let’s go do something fun!”The Frenchman approaches the operative, unable to force a different expression on his face than one of ‘I want to leave.’ To which Maxwell just grins up at, grabs the lapel of Pascal’s jacket, and kisses him.
❝Never had anyone get jealous over me. ❞ Max confesses but is shut up from rambling by another kiss.
[taunting stare] -- to the General, from his favourite scientist :))
Sexual tension prompts || Status: not accepting
[taunting stare] - Your muse gazes mischievously at mine, clearly trying to taunt them into something sexual, romantic, or playful.
Mark is in the middle of reading over some reports when a specific scientist enters his office. No forewarning from Brad, no waiting involved. He didn’t exactly barge in, if anything he entered carefully, walked over to the couch, and sat down on it lavishly like he owned the place.
Unfortunately, Naird was already accustomed to it and given the recent strides in their relationship—it was even welcomed.
“I asked Brad to take a break.” Adrian explains, looking over to Mark. “He shouldn’t be back till after lunch.”
❝I wonder why would you do that?❞ Mark says, not looking away from the papers at hand. After a minute passes with no reply, he raises his eyes to look at the other who only then makes a point to shrug, still looking over at the General with a sparkle in his eyes and a sly smile. Mark lets go of the work, leans back into his chair, bearing a devious smirk on his lips. ❝Oh?❞
“So… what are we going to do with all this time alone?“ Mallory stands from the couch, walking over to the desk and leaning against it. Not too close to Mark, not in a distance he can reach in his current position, but surely inviting.
❝I could think of a couple of things.❞ Naird mutters, not breaking eye contact with him. This brightens the smile on Adrian, who just steps closer in then.
They kiss lightly and fleetingly, when Adrian pulls away, still in Mark’s orbit, the other shoots him an equally mischievous look.
@adrianmallory || Random starter for Pascal from Maxie, hon hon hon.
Usually, a ball thrown in Washington would have been of no interest to the operative, but given the circumstances-- no, actually scratch that. He was only here due to work. He still has no clue who’s been blackmailing the political parties nor what the purpose of this was. However, once Max figures it out-- he’ll be sure to let the chief know and hopefully bring the culprit to his rightful place-- a prison. For now, he only suspects that this event might be of interest to the person behind the dirty deeds. So he must keep his eyes and ears open to anything! Whatever chatter or oddity it may be.
Speaking of chatter, though, as he stands by the buffet, eyeing everything with vacant enough eyes -- too intent on listening to his surroundings-- he notes the french words spoken nearby. Instantly, catching his attention for non-work related reasons, just out of curiosity, honestly, he averts his gaze to the relatively long-haired man. He seemed... what’s the word... dandy? Well, either way, Max downs some of his drink, pretending to not listen while actually doing just so. Unfortunately, the noise and music gets in the way, so it’s hard to make out too much. But Smart’s interest was caught. Maybe today he could forget about work? God, did he need some good company.
Under his breathe he repeats the simple greeting, quietly enough, however he struggles with building up the courage.
❝Hello, my name is Max.. no, dammit. Hi, I’m Max.❞
Injury starter: “I told you not to act recklessly like that. You might think you’re protecting me, but you’re gonna get yourself killed if you keep jumping in like that.”
injury starters || status: accepting
★ ★ ★
Mark had stepped back at the comment, swallowing his pride and with his proverbial tail between his legs as he gets scolded by the other man. He huffs in response, wincing at the pain from his forming bruises when he forces a chuckle after-- he was not safe from punches, that much was clear, even if he did handle the mess eventually.
❝It’s fine! Besides--❞ He protests and his voice is hoarse from strangled sounds he made before. Now in a much quieter tone, he continues: ❝I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if they did anything to you.❞ Not something he wants to admit out loud, but when it’s just them here, what’s the point of trying to pretend? Then again, this entire thing was complicated... Mark only cared about protecting his people, of which Adrian was one, right? It wasn’t going to be more than that, didn’t have to be-- he just didn’t want anyone he’s supposed to take care of getting in harm's way, right? Yeah. That made a whole lot more sense and he was going to stick by that if asked.
He eventually looks up at Mallory, eyes glistering with something soft, rushed as he glances the scientist over. Expectant of something or other.
