Introverted/Interruption - Oliver/Aubin

[Oliver]

=“Yes Sir. I’ll have those documents ready for you by 2 tomorrow. I’m sure they’ll hold the press. Yes Sir. Mmm. Buh-bye.” The tell-tale click of a phone being placed back onto the receiver blipped on the radar from one of the cubicles nearest to the door on the second floor of Parliament House. Immediately the phone had been put down it started to ring again, it’s brassy bleat an annoying interruption for the young man working in the cubicle. He picked up the phone and cradled it in the crook of his neck, holding it in place with his shoulder. “Good evening, Burgess. This is Oliver, how may I held you?”

“I have someone here to meet with your Representative,” informed the cool voice of the ground floor receptionist.

“Oh,” replied the grey-eyed Secretary, his gaze flicking to a schedule that he kept pinned to the side wall of his cell. “Nate doesn’t have any appointments listed until tomorrow now...”

“Well he’s waiting and I'm leaving. What should I do?” The receptionist managed to sound both bored and irritated at once, and Oliver sighed as his stomach growled. It was well past six, he hadn’t eaten his lunch and he needed to finalize those documents for Jared in Accounts before the presses ran the monthly update newsletter. He placed a hand on his stomach to steady it, accepted a curt nod from a passer by and made an executive decision. “Send him in,” he conceded finally. “But make sure he knows that Nate may not be able to see him right away. I’ll see what I can do.”

Hanging up the phone for the second time in the last five minutes, Oliver began typing like the wind. Figures and facts were his specialty, and the document was rolling off the printer on his desk as a shadow fell on to his computer monitor from behind him. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, without looking behind himself. “Mr Ellis is busy for the moment. Can I offer you a refreshment while you wait?” He swiveled in his standard-issue office chair to face someone he hadn’t counted on coming across again, or at least not so soon after their initial meeting.

[Aubin]

Contrary to whatever stalker-like fantasies Oliver might have begun to dream up the moment he swivelled around in his seat, Aubin was not in the parliament building on the purpose of seeing the human, nor had he known beforehand that the shy but beautiful mortal was a civic employee. His surprise was as great as Oliver’s upon their sudden reacquainted although, Aubin suspected, his pleasure in the meeting probably vastly outweighed Oliver’s, assuming he derived any pleasure from it at all.

“Hello Oliver,” said Aubin smoothly, smiling down at the seated employee, “It’s a great pleasure seeing you again. A beverage will not be needed, no, but thank you.” Something vaguely like a sly smile washed over Aubin’s hand as he reached over the desk, his hand extended. “I believe,” he continued in a self-effacing conspiratorial whisper, “that shaking hands is the standard mode of greeting in this place, is it not? You’ll have to forgive me, I don’t keep up with all the social niceties of my more traditionally productive fellow citizens.”

The Vampyr smiled pleasantly and continued to hold his hand out, waiting to see if Oliver would dare press his palm to his.

[Oliver]

Ollie had seen documentaries, mainly late at night when he was unable to sleep, about the rigorous lifestyles of species in the animal kingdom and the various survival tests that they had to surpass each and every day. For instance the lion would wait and watch to see if any of the buffalo drinking at a waterhole died from poisoning before drinking there itself. Or hippopotami would defend their territory from another of their kind if they felt it was under threat, charging their target at top speed and waiting to see who was weaker of mind, their opponent or them. In the seconds that proceeded after Oliver’s initial recognizance of Aubin, he imagined that the artist was his invading hippopotamus.

After another full second, however, he realized that was not only being childish, he was being unfair. This wasn’t a test, it was manners and Oliver was being rude. Just like that evening in the North Quadrant had been of Oliver’s own doing (he had, after all approached Aubin and not the other way around), if he was unprofessional and uncivil now it would not only crease his sheets that night with the damp humidity of guilt but it could lose him his job. And if Oliver lost his job, his father lost his hospital room, and Tina lost her apartment. Without thinking on it for another second, Oliver reached out his hand and shook that of the Vampyr.

“Evening,” offered Ollie politely, retracting the hand that had already begun to sizzle under the Vampyr’s touch. He immediately shoved both of his hands into the pockets of his chocolate brown slacks, retrieving one to push the glasses he wore further up the bridge of his nose and then plunging it back into hiding. “It’s nice to see you again, too. I-” he paused, wondering how best to apologise for thinking someone was making a homosexual advance on your personage. “I’m sorry I dashed off in such a hurry the other night. It was very rude of me, and I hope you’ll forgive me.” Feeling better already and now needing only the artist’s acceptance, Oliver offered an uncertain smile.

[Aubin]

Truth be told, Aubin had expected Oliver to be too afraid to take his hand, to come up with some official sounding excuse to scurry away and leave him, Aubin, in the care of an underling who was less inclined towards weakness and shyness. He were therefore surprised when Oliver not only took his hand but actually apologized for the events the night before. The human was far too earnest for Aubin to determine if the apology was genuinely meant or if he was rather making a pointed apology where he, Oliver, thought Aubin should, but Aubin was inclined to believe the former rather than the latter for some reason he could not easily pin down.

“Oh,” said Aubin easily as he slid his own hand, now free, into the pocket of his trousers, “Don’t worry about it. I’m afraid I distressed you, I apologize for that. It wasn’t my intent to alarm you at all.” The Vampyr smiled in that way one was supposed to in such social situations and then added just as casually, “I misread the signals.”

What those signals were exactly, Aubin elected to not illuminate trusting, rather, that Oliver could suss out his meaning on his own. The apology on his part was, of course, not at all genuine (although he made it appear so) and there had not been, in truth, any signals on Oliver’s part. The youth had stoked a desire in Aubin, true, but the Vampyr knew very well that the young man had not intended such an affect and indeed would probably horrified, probably was horrified, by such a revelation. Still Aubin was interested in how Oliver would respond to the mild suggestion that he had in some way encouraged Aubin, much less confirmation that what he thought had been happening the night before really was.

Before Oliver could answer, however, Aubin spoke again. While he had been watching Oliver fidget, Aubin had noticed the young man’s desk, particularly the few personal items that decorated it. A diploma from the Museum college caught Aubin’s attention first, followed by a photo of a younger-looking Oliver excitedly accepting it. There was another photo too, this one featuring a still younger Oliver standing beside and older man and a slightly older woman – family, Aubin assumed. The last photo was of a little girl who Aubin imagined must be Oliver’s child, although Aubin found it hard to believe that the anxious young man in front of him had fathered any illegitimate offspring.

“Your family?” he asked, waving at the photos, “What’s your little girl’s name?”

Unlike other people, Aubin refrained from remarking that the toddler was cute. She was an attractive child as tiny humans went, but infants were of little interest to Aubin. Indeed truth be told infants and babies in general were something of a conundrum to the artist who often found himself perversely wondering about their Vampyric potential when he passed them on the street.

[Oliver]

An obvious flash of confusion, the one the Vampyr had been waiting for incidentally, shone like a beacon in Oliver’s eyes almost bright enough to reflect in his spectacles. What signals? What was he talking about? Had there been signals? Feeling slightly sick to his stomach and very nearly overwhelmed by the sudden buzz of questions that made a hive out of his consciousness, Oliver did something he wasn’t really used to doing. He lied, in a manner of speaking. He lied because instead of saying exactly what he was thinking and feeling, he chose instead to say nothing and merely watched on instead as the tawny haired individual in front of him perused his cubicle with those mysterious eyes of his.

“Oh, she’s not mine,” he said with a smile. Anything to do with the gorgeous child in the photograph made her uncle smile, just because she was so very like the sister that he loved so dearly. “Well, that is to say, she is. Kind of. She’s my niece,” he offered by way of explanation for his tumbling comments. “Her name’s Jacey.” Oliver didn’t feel totally comfortable about going into details of his family with a man who had just suggested that he was interested in him romantically and/or that he felt Ollie was leading him on. A characteristic lightning fast rise and fall of his eyebrows gave the young man the appearance that he was being more blasé than he was actually feeling, and he desperately wanted to change the subject.

“What brings you to see Mr Ellis, Aubin?” he asked, not completely liking the way the artist’s name filmed his tongue like sour milk. Sour milk, with it’s slick consistency often turned into other things that were slightly more palatable though, and Oliver couldn’t quite decide whether the artist would stick around long enough to make him so. Wiggling his fingers nervously in his pockets for a second or two, Oliver’s grey eyes ran over the man in front of him before finally resting calmly, almost too calmly considering his flight the first time they had met, on the artist’s.

[Aubin]

It took a measure of self discipline to not smile when Oliver’s eyes shaded with confusion. This was the reaction that Aubin was looking for and for once he was pleased that few humans were canny enough to hide their emotions totally from those who sought to suss them out. Aubin had assumed, of course, that Oliver would betray himself immediately; the young man was alluring but he was quite possibly the complete opposite of inscrutable. Beneath the confusion Aubin thought he could see something like dislike beginning to grow as well. Dislike was not exactly counteractive to Aubin’s desires for and designs on the human, but he knew that they would be a barrier of some kind, particularly with this human, so he resolved to retreat rather than press on. It wasn’t an endgame move in the least, but the boy would have to take the next step.

“I have a commission,” replied Aubin simply, choosing to offer no further reflection on the child featured in the picture behind Oliver, “with Mr. Ellis.” From his pocket Aubin withdrew the order bearing the necessary stamps and signatures that both validated his presence in the office and, of more concern to Aubin, informed the reader that Aubin’s payment, which was no small amount, had been paid beforehand.

“If Mr. Ellis is not in I can come back another day,” continued Aubin, studying Oliver as spoke. “Or is he expected to return shortly? I’d prefer to not spend hours waiting for an appointment that doesn’t come to fruition.”

Spending hours in the office was, in fact, immaterial to Aubin. He had other things he could do, yes, but as he had any number of tomorrows left to him most everything could be done ‘later.’ The worst effect of wasting hours would be nothing more than the headache Aubin always suffered from when he spent excessive time in the Parliament or, put more distinctly, around those who upheld the principles of the Parliament. Aubin’s reason for suggesting that he might leave, rather, had more to do with gauging the young man’s reaction. Aubin suspected Oliver might long for his departure but he wanted to see that relief first hand, rather than assume it.

[Oliver]

Unaware that he was presenting such amusement to the man currently in his company, Oliver was also unable to hide his surprise that Mr Ellis would commission an artist. He had always told his Secretary that art was a ‘damn waste of time and money’, and as such an artist waiting here for him came as nothing short of a shock. Then again, thought Oliver, maybe his anniversary was coming up and he wished to do something nice for the wife he rarely saw. He offered a perfunctory smile.

“I’m sure he will see you,” Oliver recounted. He had not failed to notice the signatures and incredible amount evident on the commission slip, and he reached for his telephone receiver before dialling a private line.

“Yes, I know. I have Mr. Aubin here for you.” There was a pause. “No, they didn’t. He’s waiting. Very well.” The phone clicked back into place. Oliver raised his eyebrows slightly and moved towards the door along the end of the row of cubicles. “This way, please,” he added over his shoulder to Aubin. Stopping at a simple wooden door with a name plaque denoting ‘Ellis’, Oliver opened the door and stepped aside wordlessly.

[Aubin]

The Vampyr brushed past Oliver silently, offering no more remarks or even looks. It was evident to Aubin that he had misjudged the human, rather drastically it seemed. But Oliver’s clear and very evident disinterest didn’t exactly sway Aubin from his somewhat nefarious intentions. He still planned to bed the young man, just in a future more distant than he had been hoping or expecting. An immediate withdrawal was obviously needed but, following that, a new plan of attack must be made. Oliver was not a prize to be won by a full frontal assault which, frankly, pleased Aubin just fine. A slower, from the side attack on the human’s sensibilities and desires would take longer but Aubin was sure as he brushed past the human, his shoulder rushing over Oliver’s chest, that the wait would be more than worth it.