who: with @darkromeo where: milo’s office when: february 20th, 2021
he’d be a lesser man if he didn’t admit up front that he’s been chomping at the bit to share the good news with fazal in particular. it’d been one of the first things to conquer on his long list of to-dos, from reorganizing things to prioritize pestilence over pierce, all the way down to who he would tell -- who needs to know -- and when. fazal had jumped to mind immediately. just the thought of seeing the look on his face when he hears it gives milo a thrill that borders on maniacal.
it’s one more thing to tally off on the chalkboard they’ve scribbled all over for years now: time and time again, over and over, milo has made efforts to pull ahead as many leagues as possible. at one time, maybe there were other, baser motivations, but these days, nothing cheers him up like getting right under fazal’s skin. what can he say? they’re well-practiced, aren’t they?
the grin he gives fazal when he enters the office is absolutely one of shit-eating caliber. kicked back in his chair, legs propped up on his ever-immaculate desk -- untouched, unused, with no dust in sight, despite being away for however long in france. he imagines he’ll be moving into another one somewhere in the near future, because sitting still has never done him any good. he nods at the chair on the other side of the desk, spinning a pen to and fro between his fingers. “so, should we get the how-are-you-good-and-you bullshit out of the way, or do you want to skip right to me ruining the rest of your week?”