#interactions | thomas

[thomas-reyes]

“I don’t know what to tell you. That sounds pretty anti-freedom of press to me, that’s all I’m saying.” Yes, he had nothing to do here, and no, he was absolutely not here for the Sun, but that excuse had gotten him out of trouble in the past too many times before. “I can be here, and quite frankly, I’m a bit tired of having to justify myself everywhere. You couldn’t walk a day in my shoes.”

[thomas-reyes]

OPEN STARTER

location: The Tate Modern - a balcony

timing: 9.30pm

“You know I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to be here,” he was on a short break. Perks of having bad habits. Thomas always wondered how this was even considered fair by anyone. Then, he never picked the worst of times to go a smoking break, and being considerate went a long way anywhere.

Thomas exhaled slowly, watching the smoke float up one last time before he turned toward his company. “How is it ? The exhibit?” Just because he was here didn’t mean he had the time to visit it. He wondered if they’d allow the caterers to take a look at all once their shifts were over as a thank you. It seemed only fair, but he knew how the elite considered them sometimes. They might have been able to craft works of arts with ingredients, they were not given the same consideration as those who created with paint or clay.

[thomas-reyes]

For: @meaganfinley​ He’d been out and about in Belgravia the whole morning, all for the satisfaction of catching a British notable exiting a house that clearly wasn’t his. Sometimes, the job really resembled what he figured would be a private investigator’s duty. He didn’t mind it so much. Waiting around left him time to organize his afternoon intervention, also in Belgravia. Good thing with assholes and important people : they often ended up living in the same neighborhoods. 

The cheater caught in 4k and the pictures sent to the office, he’d stepped out of the car for a smoke break, and resting his arse on the back of the bench, taken a look at the woman heading his way, ready to serve her a smile and a greeting. Instead, he’d recognized her, and the smile didn’t falter away, but grew from polite to the shit eating type. “Mrs Finley? Have you finally decided to divorce? Shopping for a house, aren’t we?”

[thomas-reyes]

—   Location : The Hospital Break Room  —  Somewhere near midnight —   With @isabellamorales

This wasn’t his idea of a romantic move, but rather what he considered him being a decent husband. He could work anywhere, and his darling wife would eventually have a break in her shift. He’d come to the hospital after 8 hours of her having been hard at work, figuring that she’d soon have some time to stop and share the Thursday evening part of their meal prep. Yawning to the point of making his jaw pop, he gave his watch a glance, blowing a raspberry as he noticed that the felt 15 minutes had only been 3. It was probably best if he went back to working on this large brief they had in store for next month.

[thomas-reyes]

For: @liu-yu​ Setting: Thomas’ desk in the Sun open space / Yu’s ___________

This had started a couple of years ago. Thomas had not been a huge fan of it at first. He usually was the one with the code-name, the secrecy, the one in control of the narrative, and even more often, the one to torment others with his simple presence. He wouldn’t have called ph4ros a nuisance, but Thomas couldn’t precisely call them a friend either. They were on friendly terms, as long as they kept from benefiting from the other’s work.

He was sipping on “an excuse of a coffee cup”, which would be how his coworkers called his habit of surviving on a ridiculously high amount of cafe con crema with an unhealthy dose of sugar. If only he’d been one to care for criticism. Instead, he made a point of adding an extra sugar if someone was staring loudly his way in the break room (and then pour the inhuman beverage down the bog). 

He was finishing an article trashing dear old Boris Johnson (something he’d have done for free) as the notification popped up on his screen. “New message from 𝚙𝚑𝟺𝚛𝚘𝚜“

[thomas-reyes]

For: @elizabethhbell​

There were people with brains, and then there was Thomas, who managed to convince himself that no bag was needed for grocery shopping today. This choice had led him into this supermarket aisle with two bell peppers balanced carefully over a ream of paper, between two new toothbrushes, a packet of sanitary napkin and a tube of harissa. Right now, his mission consisted of adding clementines to the equation, but he couldn’t manage to reach down for those, not without dropping everything down, which was, of course out of the question. 

He considered going back to the front, in what felt to him like a walk of shame, when his gaze crossed that of a young blonde woman. She didn’t seem like she was able to say no, which was highly presumptuous of him but not out of character for one second. Making sure he kept eye contact, he smiled at her. “Hi,” he began, and remembering Isabella’s rants about men chatting her up, added. “Not trying to flirt. I was just wondering if you could help me out here.”

[thomas-reyes]

who: @meaganfinley​ ​​ setting: The Red Rose - Main floor - smoking room patio

“Alright now you’re doing it on purpose.” Taking a drag from his cigarette, he looked at the woman mockingly before redirecting his gaze to the intricate flower arrangements in the middle of the area. “How are you doing bestie?” He had no doubt she’d make him regret his arrogance but Thomas couldn’t help it. Tapping the ash onto the floor, he gave her outfit a look. “You’re not one of these people who worship that woman like some sort of saint, are you?” Most likely. Seemed like the type. Thomas wasn’t precisely pro monarchy, you see. A bunch of people living the high life on tax payer money? What kind of backward logic was that?

[thomas-reyes]

For @javiervidal​​

"First of all congratulations, jefe,” he wasn’t sure why he’d been summoned by the newly named crooked hand. Thomas already knew that this wouldn’t be the same relationship as the one he had with Eliza. She’d often treated him like her son. He didn’t expect this from Vidal. Shoving the last bits of his danish into his mouth, he took a look around the room, dragging his finger along the edge of one of Sonny’s shelves. “Is that a...” He’d come back for the old camera later, for now, he wanted to see what the boss had in mind.