DAVID.
@shieldsurvivor
❝The day returns, but nevermore returns the traveler to the shore. And the tide rises, the tide falls.❞
you and your fragmented parts were made to survive.
you and your fragmented parts were made to survive.
(david lifts his gaze once more, and though none of it is expected, he remains stoic. only lifting his brows in curiosity.) sure. join you on?
( mission prep is actually a little bit secret. but .. he has been looking for a partner. this thing seems to be bigger then it seems. he looks up from a ping from his email and briefs it through before he is standing up. ) hey, acosta. wanna join me?
morning (comes david's greeting, dripping with irony, as he goes to serve himself a cup of coffee. notice how he didn't add 'good', because clearly it's not a very positive morning for arlen.)
( he holds the glare a little bit longer, before he breaks it and walks over to his desk, settling behind it. putting his cup of coffee down —- but not before taking another big gulp of it )
Just finished reading up on the Palazzo Ducale in Venice. Quite a riveting piece of architecture, and that's without getting into all the historical aspects and tales associated with it. He'd like to go one day.
What the boss says, goes. And, in truth, any achievement of this magnitude warrants some ceremony. So he half-grins, headed over to claim the offered seat. "Wine and Italian? An excellent choice."
Her index finger gestures to the empty seat just opposite her——accompanied by a raise of a brow; a silent warning. He cannot deny such request. He ought to celebrate with her.
Ah. Multitasking. It's an excellent way of achieving efficiency. David approves. He's happy to see the Gotham Awards committee has acknowledged her — all the hard work she put in is bearing its fruits! Huge congratulations.
Both, dear David. Both!
"Everything okay?" Even his shirt went rustled and wrinkled from the rush he took to arrive — her message was brief and blunt, urgent in nature. But she looked well, and put together, and that alone was enough to ease some of the concerns bubbling in him.
⠀ @shieldsurvivor. ⠀⠀ ⠀ “i’m glad that you’re here.”
Having fun with the award itself, Ms. Madison? Or with the opponent's loss?
Celebrating her win against Matthew Hagen with a bottle of wine and some fine takeout from 𝑪𝒊𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒂𝒏𝒊. All she can say is, Gotham Awards truly recognizes talent.
(the stack of papers on agent acosta's desk has only been reduced by half in this time. he really should have gotten here earlier to work through his files first. nonetheless, he lets his gaze wander to arlen's desk. what mission is he doing prep for this time?)
( the same amused glint is in flynn his eyes —- but he is letting the conversation die out. he is swiftly working through his pile of paperwork before he is done —- carrying them over to file them into the cabinets. he then pours another large cup of coffee ——
(The glint in Yara Ayad's eyes shines with complacency; boundless confidence borne from. . . He shall be determining where during the course of their conversation. For the time being, David accepts the handshake.) David. It's a pleasure.
Such is the price one pays for poor taste. ( Still smug as ever—though she finally offers her hand, introducing herself. ) Yara Ayad.
you overestimate my determination to find out. (david's eyes do keep a subtle entertained glint to them, even as he starts sifting through his own pile of paperwork. surely this is what hell is carved out of: endless stacks of reports waiting to be drafted by hand.)
( he glances up from his paperwork to the other agent and short snort is emitted ) ha —- you wish. ( he mutters before focusing back upon his paperwork and taking another sip from his coffee )
Barefooted walks seem far more egregious.
His suspicion is correct. Lose the shoes.
(despite himself, he snorts, emptying the cup and leaving it behind before making way for his own desk.) i'd wager black or grey. (much like their souls.)
( he rolls his eyes, as he isn’t in the mood to spur this further on. he lowers his eyes back down to his paper work. ) well, let me know when you settle on a guess what color they are. ( his suspicions were correct. both of them. )
i do. it's a light suspicion. (but the reason behind the sour mood remains a mystery. was it a hangover in process of being cured? a long night without sleep?)
( green hues shot up at him and the painful jab he feels at his head gives him a cue that he did it too fast. still he managed to mask it and squints his eyes a little bit at the other agent ) who says i’ve got my panties into a twist?
(turning around, he leans back against the counter, drinking his first sip. ah. paperwork.) that what got your panties in a twist?
morning .. ( he answers gruffly, eyes drawn downwards towards the paper work that was on his desk. )
(unfortunately, all that does is get david to glare back. takes more than a look to intimidate him.)
( he should keep his pretty little mouth shut —- because he is giving him also a death glare when he takes a gulp of his coffee )