sittin' on the hood of my chevy singin'
|
Post by sigma on Jun 27, 2016 0:04:16 GMT
it feels a little like herding cats on the best of the days.
jake’s never been the most patient of guys, and it’s starting to wear on him a little that the kids think coming to him and trying to guilt him into moderating their latest petty little concerns is a decent use of his time, but sometimes he doesn’t resist as much.
yeah, yeah. give an inch, they’ll take a mile, but this is at least a reasonable request.
he doesn’t even bother trying to flirt rostam’s assistant into submission, because he gets there just as someone jake vaguely recognises as one of the city council is leaving, and he waits until she’s occupied to just walk straight in.
it’s insubordination, but it’s not like he cares.
“so i was just wondering,” he begins without even a greeting, tapping the door shut behind him with a heel just as he hears an indignant female shout, “if you know what the average in-court settlement for for-blame loss of life is over here.”
he could stand, feet planted, embracing the paragon image, but who would he be fooling? the door isn’t going to be impressed, and it’s not like anyone outside can see in. executive perks. he perches on the arm of one of the visitor chairs, at absolute ease, effortlessly commanding.
“because i could pull up the figures on my phone, but two hundred k is...” a split-second to calculate it, fixing the cool blue gaze on the other man in the room. “by my count a twentieth of the going rate. and that’s just the average. so what reason did the families of those three people have to take the settlement?”
sheyda |
|
|
|
Jun 28, 2016 12:14:03 GMT
Post by sheyda on Jun 28, 2016 12:14:03 GMT
It was almost a gift to be the one to deal with the city council at times. The uppity nature, the out-of-place yelling; very determinedly pointing a smudge mark on one of the wall-length windows, gesturing to an area, or a building, he isn't entirely sure.
Sheyda's calm and confident nature is infectious, the way in which he treats them like old friends, validates their concerns with an understanding smile and a hand on their shoulder, and then assures them. The Initiative is already taking steps to ensure this is cleaned up humanely and the victims mourned and respected. Unfortunately, they had no time to linger upon such greiving; yes, people died in a horrible accident, but a threat that would've wiped out a few thousand was neutralised. Sometimes, casualties were unavoidable, perhaps even necessary, but he wouldn't tell the councilman that. He finally has him calm and agreeing with what he is saying, there is no need to disclose such information.
The councilman apologises before he leaves, and Sheyda simply laughs it off, says that they're all hurting from what transpired, but they must make the victims proud. He half expects a bottle of champagne to be delivered from the council for his efforts. He thinks he will save it for the victims' funerals, they deserved the respect of everyone more than he did.
With a satisfied sigh, he moves to the window and removes the pocket square from his suit jacket, doing his very best to remove the smudge, or at least, smear it in a more pleasing way.
The familiar voice causes him to turn his head, and his immediately knows he is in for a much longer afternoon than he'd anticipated. Sigma thinks him silly, he thinks, replacing his pocket square and walking to sit behind his desk. It would probably be best to put a barrier between them for this conversation.
"Good afternoon to you too, Mr. Sangster. Comfortable?" Sheyda turns to his laptop and starts typing, glancing between the screen and Sigma frequently. "Because I know that you know the answer to this. If you would like to hear it from the... donkey's mouth, is the phrase? It is because we had a chat with the families, and they saw that the incident was a horrible accident. Their sacrifices allowed several hundred others to live, and they did not want to tarnish their memory with messy court proceedings. They said it was a very generous amount, on top of life insurance policies, which we ensured were paid out in full, with bonuses for circumstance."
He turns to look Sigma directly in the eye, straight-faced. "Any other questions?"
sigma
|
|
sittin' on the hood of my chevy singin'
|
Jun 28, 2016 17:56:45 GMT
Post by sigma on Jun 28, 2016 17:56:45 GMT
jake’s expression is calm, pleasant, his eyebrows slightly raised as he watches sheyda behind his desk.
“bullshit,” he says simply.
he stretches out his legs in front of himself, crossing them at the ankle. he’s absolutely relaxed, without a trace of anger or heat in his voice. “you know that the average settlement for an air crash is four point five million, though, right? if anything there’s more fault on the initiative than in those cases. average life insurance payouts are a couple hundred thousand dollars. it’s cost-cutting, it’s cynical if not outright immoral, and it’s essentially passing the responsibility to someone else.”
he has most of his weight on his hands, so he has to shift to pull out his phone - the leather and wood creak a little alarmingly, so he just stands up properly, takes slow steps over to his desk as he opens the link in the email he was forwarded. “i mean... petition for ‘justice for the families of the june twelfth cherry hill disaster’, that doesn’t exactly sound like some of the people involved thought there was much generosity at all. more like a corporation covering its ass so the donors don’t all pull their funding.”
as he slides the phone over the desk jake knows the real answer is a good deal of strong-arming and subtle threats, and he also knows he’s never going to get sheyda to admit to it, but he wants to make a point of it. people are noticing. he’s noticing. and while they agree on this kind of thing extremely rarely, the other man is still a... friend.
he’s leaning on the desk now, hand curled around the corner, thigh against the edge. “it’s ‘horse’s mouth’, by the way. the idiom.”
sheyda |
|
|
|
Post by sheyda on Jul 3, 2016 13:43:34 GMT
The plain expression twists into a mild frown, and Sheyda stops his typing, fingers still on the keyboard as he simply watches Sigma. He finds this near offensive; the thought that so much research was done to simply prove him wrong. Unsurprising, however, considering who was the one doing it.
"Jake, this has not been done to spite the families or the populace in any way at all. I am not the sole decision maker - the board all agreed to it; explained to me their reasoning why. It extends beyond my years here - to apparent issues that have happened previously. I simply-"
When he pauses, he finds that his hands are both balled, one clucthing the arm of his chair whilst the other is on his papers in a determined fist. He relaxes, adjusts a cufflink, watches the phone slide towards him and pause on the friction of a sheet of paper. Sheyda scoops up the device and views the screen, scrolling slowly. He cannot help the mixture of exasperation and annoyance that comes to his face for just a moment, but he... he understands. Does not approve, but understands.
"Funding is best put elsewhere. Yes, it was a tragic event with loss of life, but will paying these families large sums bring them back? It will not. The money was enough for them to live on, that was the intention. I understand the... 'noble' thing of fighting the disgusting coperations and their money-hungry executives, but I do not see how it will aid them."
The phone is replaced to the hardwood desk, and the hand holding it goes to his mouth. He will have to think on this, decide a course of action before the media picked it up.
He looks up to Sigma and nods. "Thank you for showing me this. And... horse's mouth, ah, I knew it was somewhere in that family..."
sigma
|
|
sittin' on the hood of my chevy singin'
|
Post by sigma on Jul 3, 2016 16:22:21 GMT
the thing about jake’s power of intuition, of perception, is that he picks up on the little things, the tiniest cues. he’s tempted to say something about it being impotence rather than malice, but he things better of it as he watches sheyda read the rant undersigned by the petition’s original poster. he read it himself, had recoiled a little from the language - incendiary, so deeply wronged in a way that he doesn’t like to have any personal proximity to - but it’s not his purpose here to humiliate sheyda. far from it.
“next time, maybe explain to the board that it’s going to get you sued one day. all it takes is one person telling the others not to sign the paperwork and you have a class action lawsuit on your hands. things are bad enough without people targeting you guys.” it’s cool, clipped, professional. he is a guarded man. he prefers to keep the man jake sangster out of the life of sigma the initiative hero. personal ties are something he barely acknowledges in this building.
he leans over a little further than he strictly needs to to pick up the phone again, tucking it back into his pocket. “‘enough to live on’ runs out real fast sometimes, mr rostam. poor families with debts, people who wanna send their kids to college, who spend it on a house to get out of their arkham neighbourhood and then can’t afford to keep the lights on with their same old shitty payckecks. it happens.” he knows it happens because he gets letters through the initiative, shaky kid’s writing with ‘dear mr sigma’ and sob stories.
he’s stopped reading them lately. there are too many. too much to fix that he can never so much as slightly help.
“all i’m saying is that people are picking up on it. they’re calling it injustice. it’s dangerous for the whole initiative. it was some of the kids who were worried about the backlash that asked me to come in and give you a hard time about it.”
he stays seated on the far side of the desk, body tilted towards sheyda. “what did the councilman want, anyway?”
sheyda |
|
|
|
Post by sheyda on Jul 7, 2016 0:11:05 GMT
To read such bitter malice directed at what felt like him alone was a shock. He's unsure if he feels directly angered, or hurt, or... he can definitely feel himself simmering on the inside, but it is alright. He's dealt with this before. He can handle it. Sheyda flexes a hand, balling it into a fist and loosening, over and over.
"Mm..." emits from him as he listens, eyes focused on his laptop screen, watching the blinking cursor as he thinks. This wouldn't have been presented to him, especially not in this manner, if there wasn't genuine concern. The legalities of this country seem to continue to spiral out with tentacles as long as the flight to Tehran and back again, but... technicalities. A little, encouraged smile finds his face. He lived for technicalities.
The hand at his mouth moves upwards, combing a path through his hair, and his poise adjusts, watching Sigma's movements. "Kingsport is an expensive city, is it not? There is always something to be paid for..." A creak of leather, and he leans his elbows on the desk, pointing with a finger. "... so, I shall review it. Do things our way; a rogue... signing cannot change the way we operate... it asks for trouble, and we draw enough of that."
The finger is taken back, and Sheyda folds his hands together, expression softening some. Sigma was a good man, he only wanted others safe and well, as much as he did his best to be the biggest thorn known to man. Sometimes, perhaps, that is the measure of a true friend.
"The councilman wanted the same thing you did, Mr. Sangster, he simply had... a different way of asking. And that had a different outcome." He looks almost accusatory as he smiles.
sigma |
|
sittin' on the hood of my chevy singin'
|
Post by sigma on Jul 7, 2016 20:26:31 GMT
that’s all he can ask for, isn’t it?
jake knows that sheyda is a reasonable man. ideological differences aside - and those are small, a matter of semantics and jake’s own need to stay neutral in the constant partisan infighting - their outlooks are similar, their intents.
“the word’s ‘petition’, mr rostam,” he corrects. he holds tightly to the professionalism in this office, knows that if he starts relying on their downtime friendship he’ll lack the distance and clarity to make proper decisions. it jeopardises all of them. it doesn’t stop his eyes following the movement of sheyda’s fingers through his hair, or the way they trail down over neck and broad shoulders and strong hands. “but thank you. you appreciate the fact that there are a number of heroes that disagree with your methods generally, i’m sure, but i’m just trying to pre-empt some kind of pushback. left alone, someone would use it to start shit, i’m sure.”
the last remark has a strange effect on jake, to look at him from the outside - he raises his eyes, drops his shoulders, looks rather like he’s just been challenged. the toe of his boot settles against the rolling base of sheyda’s chair, pushing it back a few inches. jake himself is sliding over to fill the gap, pushing the computer keyboard aside in favour of blocking the screen entirely with his body.
to anyone else, coupled with the rather defiant - no, predatory look in sigma’s eyes, it’d be an explicit threat. “and what outcome was that, mr rostam?”
sheyda |
|
|
|
Post by sheyda on Jul 7, 2016 21:17:22 GMT
"Pet-ition..." He slowly repeats to himself, contemplating the pronounciation. He certainly was not the worst at English, but some of its nuances... really baffled him. So many words to remember, construct into sentences that are coherent. He would be lying if he said he did not enjoy the learning process.
"And I appreciate that you brought this... petition," he says in with an inflection asking if he's said it right, "to me so soon. If anyone wishes to start a fight with me, ask them to say to me. I have time to hear what they want to say, as long as it isn't with the punching." Sheyda laughs, but underneath, he is quite serious. The thought of any hero trying to create any more of a rift within the Initiative was thoroughly unwelcome; the business with 'defender' and 'justicar' was bad enough. 'United we stand' and all of the other sayings Americans had about remaining together.
His expression changes as Sigma pushes his chair, and he should probably apologise for the comment, but Sheyda has never been one to retract statements he stands by. His elbow goes to an armrest, and he rests his jaw in a hand, straight-faced to stare right back. As rare as physical displays of intimidation - especially ones in his personal space - were in his line of work, the response is an easy, charismatic smile. He is threatening.
"The outcome was that the councilman got to leave this room intact."
A breath of laughter leaves his lips, and he glances away to the door for a moment. His voice drops to a harsh whisper. "We all know that I call the shots here, Mr. Sangster."
sigma
|
|
sittin' on the hood of my chevy singin'
|
Post by sigma on Jul 8, 2016 14:46:23 GMT
“easier said than done. the rookies can be a little... shy. it’s why i try to stay out of the bickering, means most of them will be able to come to me if they can’t pluck up the courage themselves.” he finds it stupid, honestly, the political schism. he doesn’t have the patience for politics, finds it claustrophic. smothering. in the middle is about the only place he can breathe easy.
it’s wearing on him after eight years. he admits that. it seems inevitable that one side or another will grab power, lead witch-hunts and purges. he doesn’t know if he has the patience to last until then, but it feels like it’s gonna be soon.
he certainly feels his patience giving out now, levers himself up onto his feet. jake towers over the other man even at standing height, but he doesn’t stay looming over sheyda for long. he’s already slowly moving for the door. “that sounds like intimidation to me. i hate to remind you -” and the click of the lock on the office door rings in the silence of his pause, “but this is you, ordinary man, threatening someone who could probably snap you in half one-handed. threats are maybe a li’l unwise.” the tight control sigma keeps on his accent is loosening somewhat, the soft southern consonants bleeding through. “so please. tell me what you mean by ‘intact’.”
he’s moving over again, back to stand directly in front of sheyda. in the blink of an eye he has the man’s tie wrapped around his fist, yanking him up out of the chair to bring them eye-to-eye, scant inches apart. “so call them.”
sheyda |
|
|
|
Post by sheyda on Jul 9, 2016 13:51:13 GMT
His eyes stay fixed on Sigma's, even as he's being purposely loomed over. He would be lying if he said that he didn't feel his stomach drop a little at the look in his eyes, but Sheyda Rostam didn't deal in lies. Simply not disclosing the whole truth was so much easier.
The posture he has taken straightens again as he watches Sigma walk to the door, feels the crushing weight of his presence alone alleviate. Fingers adjust a cufflink, eyes flicking from Sigma's face to the lock and back again. The office had no cameras, no microphones. The only key in and out was his, and his alone. He was alone with one of the Initiative's most trusted - and most powerful - heroes, if not in superhuman talent, in sheer strategy in getting things to go his way. He can't stop the smirk, however, at the north carolina drawl slipping out of his professional voice. That was telling.
"That is the funny thing, Mr. Sangster, it is less that you could not harm me... you would not. And by-," the pull of his tie causes him to choke on his next words briefly, twisting them into a short laugh. Rank A heroes may be on a higher payroll than he was, but Sheyda was acutely aware of how much this tie cost him. He tilts his head to one side and meets Sigma's steely stare, gaze flicking from one eye to the other. He lowers his voice to something harsh, something styled to dig. "I do not need to call them, Jake. You know exactly what I mean by 'intact'... I will give you a dressing down again and again, and you will always come back for more. The councilman may have left with a smile on his face, but that, at least, was not a cover... I can guarantee, I will give you a lot more to cover up by the time you leave those doors again."
Sheyda's hands slowly slide around the muscular waist, pulling them closer together. He leans forward just a little more, voice now barely audible. "Because you can't resist me..."
sigma |
|
sittin' on the hood of my chevy singin'
|
Post by sigma on Jul 9, 2016 18:18:29 GMT
the tension is thick, palpable. he imagines a steel wire pulled taut between them, pulling him forward - something he could easily break if he actually tried, but does he want to?
he knows the answer to that. pushes it out of his mind. he doesn’t need to dwell on it. especially not now. the neutral, minimally-emotionally mask of sigma is slipping a little more than he means it to and it’s in danger of failing entirely.
“you don’t know that, rostam. or are you suddenly a mind-reader?” the leverage he has makes sheyda unsteady on his feet even without powerlessness in the face of a super. “maybe one day you push me too far. maybe i decide keepin’ you sweet is more work than it’s worth. could change my allegiance, go runnin’ to someone else with all of my information.”
he wouldn’t. he’d never. that taut wire keeps reeling him in.
the push-pull is enough to get his blood up, his heartrate accelerating. fight or flight or...
sheyda’s right - he calls the shots, but it’s not a power that he needs to exercise explicitly. his orders are about the only ones jake has ever followed without hesitation. the breath that leaves him when the hands land on his waist is catharsis, reward for his decision to escalate, and he can feel his pulse in his throat.
“no,” he admits, a little shakily. sigma is gone, and only jake sangster stands desperate for an illicit moment of complete stupidity in the office of both his boss and the man he’s been maybe kinda-sorta not-entirely seeing for almost a year. “i really can’t.”
the kiss is hard, rough when he relents and brings his mouth to sheyda’s. needy.
talk about conflict of interest.
sheyda
/finished? |
|
