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Post by Silas Rosier on May 27, 2009 11:03:47 GMT 1
Well, if one thing would be said about Dacian, it was that at least he used to make life somewhat interesting. All Silas had these days was a huge pile of forms that had built up over the Christmas season that he was intentionally avoiding. Pfft, as if he had the concentration to work on them for long stretches, and besides, he was tired tonight.
Instead, he’d dug up some of Jac’s accounting work, a glass of La Coquette Absinthe Black, propped both feet up on the desk and started double-checking her calculations. Nothing was ever wrong with Jac’s figures, so it was an easy way to just let his mind wander whist still looking busy. That was, assuming he didn’t fall asleep first. The warmth from the fireplace was entirely too comfortable.
So far so good, until...
Silas frowned, shifting to sit a little straighter and pushing his reading glasses further up his nose. Hang on a sec. 6? No, that should be a 7. Had Jac actually screwed up somewhere for the first time in recorded history? Silas rechecked the figures. Yep, that 6 was definitely supposed to be a 7. To make it worse all the rest of her work had been based off that one sum, rendering the entire set of forms invalid. What the hell had happened there? Jac always rechecked her work at least a dozen times. She was nothing if not thorough. He’d noticed she had been looking a little flustered lately, but it was still an uncharacteristic mistake for someone of her calibre.
He glanced at the eight-handed clock on the wall. She wouldn’t have gone home yet, if she was even in her office any more. Jac had an annoying tendency to be hard to find these days, which made things, err, complicated, whenever he needed her for whatever purposes. Might as well try his luck regardless. Silas took his feet off the desk and collected all the forms Jac had handed in the day before. How they’d ended up strewn so far around the place was beyond him. Eventually he got them all in order, swallowed the last of the drink, and made his way out the door, forgetting the glasses he was still wearing.
He didn’t bother knocking when he reached her office. He never did. Instead he just swung the door open and was relieved to find her sitting where she was supposed to be. Good, he was saved from having to search every corner of the club for her then. She was turning up in the strangest places all of a sudden. “Sorry Jac,” he said automatically, the apology oozing of insincerity as he leisurely walked closer. “Looks like we need to put in a little more overtime.” |
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Post by Jacaranda Mulciber on May 27, 2009 19:26:22 GMT 1
Somehow, despite working every hour humanly possible, her in-tray was piling up disastrously fast. Was Silas intentionally giving her so much to do that she had to stay around the club or where her attempts to avoid him disrupting her work? No, Silas must be the cause – nothing got in the way of her work. She had finally resigned herself to sitting in her office, however, as there was just too much to carry round and patrons were starting to complain about paper cuts from accio’d pieces of paper hurling around.
As if signifying just how busy she was, her hair had been put back in a pony tail after her morning shower and had stayed there. No time to wrap it up in a bun so the hair for once had a chance to dry naturally and had curled into waves where it sat down her back. Her skirt was a knee-length black one with the occasional pleat, combined with a grey blouse that cut a V shape to her sternum. Recently she had been fond of less revealing attire, but somehow she had managed to neglect the housework as well and she had already depleted her wardrobe of more demure clothing. Suffice to say, she didn’t have a lot of it.
It was quite spectacular the way one man had managed to unravel her life, her little systems, and make everything a mess. All he had done was made love to – see more accurately: fucked – her a dozen or so times, yet somehow he was screwing with her head too. There was hardly a minute she wasn’t thinking about him. More recently, she had been thinking how to avoid him, though on the occasion she would catch her self wondering if she should seek him out instead. The man was undoubtedly good in bed, or on the desk, against the wall or on the floor, but it was the insistent nature of it that was slowly eating away at her. The simple fact of the matter was: she could not say no.
She had tried, in subtle ways, but he seemed oblivious. She knew some men did not read women well, but it seemed strange that he could perform that well and not be aware of a woman’s wants. Perhaps she should just tell him, make it clear that he couldn’t demand her attention whenever he wanted it. But there was that niggling worry that he did know exactly what he was doing, and pointing it out would only anger him. She had only been privy to his temper that once when he had come back to his office covered in cuts and bruises and it was enough to make her wonder if it was not just inanimate objects he would take his fury out on.
Subconsciously, she reached out to touch her wand where it lay at her right hand on the desk. She could look after herself, and she was probably just making mountains out of gnomehills. She was just weaning herself off the Silas train of thought when the door opened behind her and the very man himself swung into the room. She couldn’t help but scowl. He knew he should knock; couldn’t he see she was busy. “Look, Silas, I don’t have time for—.” She looked to the documents he was holding, and she stood from her chair. “What are those?” More work? She took them none-too-carefully and studied the top sheet. These were the papers she had done a few days ago, had he only just gotten around to reading them? Sometimes she didn’t know why she bothered.
She was momentarily distracted by the sight of him with glasses on; she didn’t know he wore glasses. They suited him, turned his rakish look into something more studious. He appeared as intelligent as he actually was for once. “What do you mean, overtime? If you don’t read these things when I give them to you, you shouldn’t expect me too—.” She cut off again, spotting the anomaly. “That’s not right, did you tamper with these?” She flicked through the pages, her scowl deepening. No, this was her work. How in Lucifer’s Hell had she miscalculated?
The accountant muttered an obscenity and tossed the papers onto her precariously-staked in-tray. “Right, fine, I’ll fix that after I’ve finished these books.” She waved in the general direction of her cluttered desk. She eyed him suspiciously, hoping he would turn around to leave now. “I really am quite busy Silas, I don’t have time to chat…”
No, seriously, how had she miscalculated? It had been a simple sum, she proofread all her work. How had it slipped by? The only thing she could think of was that something had distracted her. Someone. That someone lingering in her room. Resisting the urge to grumble, Jac raised an expectant brow at her employer, shooting glances at the door as a clear indication for him to leave. She couldn’t possibly work with him there, especially not if he was here to put in his own special brand of ‘overtime’.
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Post by Silas Rosier on May 29, 2009 11:55:21 GMT 1
It was interesting to watch the subtle shifts in Jac’s expression from the moment he had walked into the room. Just when he thought she couldn’t throw a nastier glare or get more agitated, she promptly went and one-upped herself. He ought to start keeping score.
“Did you tamper with these?”
What the? “Naturally, because I’m in the habit of sabotaging my own businesses records just to annoy you, Jacaranda,” Silas scoffed sarcastically with a light tone of amusement in his voice. Would he tamper with just about anything if suited him? Er, yeah, absolutely, but this time he hadn’t actually done anything. The idea he could get away with it when guilty as sin and only came under suspicion when being genuine was rather entertaining. Well, to him at least.
“In case you haven’t noticed, you’re more use to me when you’re not knee deep in files,” he added, ignoring the fact that he was actually starting to ease into the habit of secretly offloading his own financial work onto her in-tray. Hey, it was a valid strategy! She got them done twice as fast and as a bonus, he didn’t have to do it himself.
Now that he’d dropped off what was needed, the fact Jac wanted him gone couldn’t be more obvious if it came attached with a neon sign. Or a bubble inscribed with the words ‘Piss Off’, as had apparently become her wont. But, then, you know, there always was something interesting about Jac when she was flustered. Besides, if he went back to his office he didn’t have any excuses to keep avoiding his own pile of paperwork.
“I really am quite busy Silas, I don’t have time to chat…”
“Oh, don’t be like that,” he smirked, drifting closer and tracing a finger along the edge of her desk. “You always seem capable of making time when you need to.” Not that he really gave her a much of a choice on the matter these days. At the end of the day he always got what he wanted, so ignoring Jac and her subtle (or not-so-subtle, as was more often the case) hints was almost sinfully easy. |
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Post by Jacaranda Mulciber on Jun 5, 2009 14:00:30 GMT 1
She supposed meddling with his own business made little sense, but it made more sense than her getting something wrong. It was just inconceivable, she was always right. She glared at the offending sheets where they lay dark and foreboding on her already substantial pile of work. The flustered accountant lifted a hand, pushing loose hair back from her forehead. This was just one of those weeks, wasn't it?
More use to her not knee-deep in files? Then why didn’t he just leave her alone? She’d get much more work done if he wasn’t hovering around, but how exactly could she get rid of him? Apparently it was going to be difficult, but then again, nothing about Silas Rosier was easy. It seemed as if anything she did, dispiriting or otherwise, encouraged him.
As he came toward her, she stepped back, short again without her shoes on – a regular habit while working these days. She clutched the pale wood of her wand handle in her fist, watching the path of his finger along the desk edge, trying her best to look stern in the face of what would probably degrade into another hopeless situation. Her cheek pulsed as she gritted her teeth, and she glared defiantly up at him. “Silas, I’m serious. I don’t have time for this.”
She took another step back, acutely aware of the small confines of her office and that any more of a retreat would have him cornering her. She was determined to be the victor for once, but the chances of that were slowly slipping away with her confidence.
No, she had to be assertive, that was the only way she was going to get Silas off her back, or any other part of her body. “That’s enough, Silas. I have a lot of work to do, you need to leave now.”
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Post by Silas Rosier on Jun 7, 2009 11:22:41 GMT 1
Silas didn’t need to be a genius to tell what Jac was thinking. Pity, he had hoped the slight reluctance that she had been displaying in response to his usual demands would only be a passing phase, but apparently not. It was inconsequential anyway, seeing as she always came around in the end, but something seemed to have driven her to a crux today.
The return to her usual wardrobe could have otherwise been taken as a positive sign if it wasn’t for her current behaviour, and Silas stopped walking closer, his gaze drifting down to her clothing without really seeing them. At least tonight she was getting off easily. He hadn’t slept properly the night before so he was more interested in getting home.
“Uh huh, I’d be more inclined to believe that if you didn’t pull the same excuse every time,” Silas replied dismissively, eyeing her carefully none the less. The way her fingers gripped tightly around her wand. The nervous step backwards. That famous glare which he was now desensitised to. Heh. She was intimidated, that much was obvious. He couldn’t help himself and he smirked automatically. The woman always tried to wield such an obnoxious air of command that seeing it falter was always vaguely satisfying. “Besides, we’ll never get anything done with that attitude,” he added, for no apparent reason but to agitate her further. |
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Post by Jacaranda Mulciber on Jun 19, 2009 10:51:47 GMT 1
“Attitude? What attitude?” She snapped, feeling the press of shelves against her back as she retreated a little more. He was persistent, but there was something odd in the way he looked at her. It was not the usual leer of most men, and it was somewhat disconcerting to be evaluated with such detachment, as if she were cattle. That notion flared her temper and gave her enough courage to respond in a way she would never usually to a superior. Then again, she had never been in such a helpless situation.
“Mr. Rosier, with all due respect,” her biting tone was hardly respectful, “I do not need your help to perform my job. If you would just leave me in peace, I’m sure you’ll see a marked increase in my performance. We both know these visits of yours are not productive, and frankly you’re not acting professionally! This sort of thing,” she waved her non-wand hand in a circular gesture to indicate the current situation, “Is inappropriate for the workplace.”
She really hated that smirk of his. If he were Abe, she’d of slapped him already. As it was, she knew that would be a very bad idea. “I think that in business hours, from now on, we should conduct only business.” She lifted her chin, bravely facing down her employer. For what good it would do. Silas had a one track mind, and she could only hope she would not provoke his object-smashing temper with such insolence.
Her stomach dropped. What if he decided without her ‘overtime’, she did not suit his needs? What if this outburst of hers had earned her nothing but the sack? She had never been fired before; she would never live it down. Her chin lowered, courage failing her. Her mouth opened once or twice, but she couldn’t bring herself to apologise. She was in the right here. She pressed her lips together in a firm line, fuelled by bravado now.
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Post by Silas Rosier on Jun 25, 2009 17:00:22 GMT 1
Silas supposed perhaps he should be feeling angry, or at least mildly insulted. But the thing was, he wasn’t, and it had nothing to do with him being too tired to protest either. If that had come from the mouth of anyone else the look of fear to momentarily cross Jac’s features would have been highly warranted, but as things stood, it was impossible for him to take her seriously. Four minutes of pressure tomorrow and she’d be right back where he wanted again, and she wouldn’t be able to stop him. She’d crumble, as she always did, and she was kidding herself if she thought otherwise, and kidding herself if she thought this little outburst would really make a difference.
Silas looked thoughtfully at the floor for a minute, but it was only because he was weighing up his next move as opposed to laying any actual weight on Jac’s words. Writing her off immediately would get him nowhere, so that just left-
“You’re right, actually,” Silas said slowly, looking back up at her again. “Especially since it seems you can't manage your own in-tray recently anymore,” he added, a small frown forming on his face for emphasis as he glanced back at Jac’s ridiculous amount of paperwork and he felt fiendishly delighted felt a stab of vindictive pleasure that he wasn’t the one that had to deal with it. “How long do you think it’ll take for you to get it done? Half of this is due at the tax office in two days and your accounting error may have set us back a bit.” Yes. Reminding her that she’d fucked up was necessary. She should be grateful though, if he was Abe she’d never hear the end of it. Ever. |
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Post by Jacaranda Mulciber on Jul 11, 2009 17:03:39 GMT 1
Prepared for a debate, Jac was surprised when Silas agreed. Maybe she had underestimated him, he was reasonable after all. With a reasonable amount of caution, her shoulders relaxed a little. She was still cornered, but feeling a little less in danger. Her lips gave a little twitch, though her defensive posture came back full fold with his next observation.
The lapse in his work has been his fault! He eyes narrowed with self-righteousness. If he hadn’t been pestering her so much, she would be on top of it all! Wouldn’t she? That niggling seed of self-doubt that had been planted was beginning to sprout. She had never had a problem combining work and advancement techniques before, was she losing her knack? No, she refused to believe that. She was just as accurate as she ever had been; she was just letting the strain get to her.
The accountant took a deep breath, she could sort this out. “I will get it done, sir. I’ll start on it now – I’ll make sure I’m back on track before the deadline… It won’t happen again.” A more distinct apology was lingering on her lips, but she still maintained enough dignity that she would not give him it. She glanced around Silas to the masses of work waiting for her, and she drew in another breath. Damn, this was going to take a while.
She made a move to get past her employer, and for once he stepped back to let her past. She sat down at her desk, grabbed a quill and the piece of miscalculated parchment. Gritting her teeth, she started from the beginning, only nodding her head in the general direction of the door when Silas big his good night and shut the door behind him.
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Post by Silas Rosier on Jul 14, 2009 17:14:59 GMT 1
Christmas morning arrived painlessly enough. Well, for Silas anyway. After leaving Jacaranda to her ridiculous workload Silas had just gone straight home, swallowed his usual concoction of alcohol and sleeping potion and hadn’t moved a muscle until the sun was well and truly up. After his necessary eye-opener he’d even felt motivated to eat something, which was becoming rarer these days. It was nice not to have to eat just for the sake of knowing you needed to eat for a change. Might turn out to be a good Christmas day after all.
... Or not.
Silas’s chronic bad luck evidently wasn’t done with him quite yet. Turned out he’d left a few things back at Scores, which wasn’t in itself much of an issue, but a surprise was waiting for him when he arrived. A blast from the past he really did not need. Suffice to say Silas probably could have handled the incident with a little more grace.
Drinking was in order. Oh yes.
One turned into two. Then three. Four. Five. Agitatedly, Silas started pacing. Six. Seven? Yeah, he stopped counting after that one. Mostly because he didn’t really want to know. He ought to stop, but fuck, another would hardly make a difference at this stage now would it?
Silas’s pacing eventually lead him down the hallway into the staff area. By the time he walked into Jac’s office again – virtually crashing the door open as he did so – he was looking a little more rumpled than usual after running his hands through his hair God knows how many times. His expression was set in a hard line and he smelt stronger than usual of alcohol. In one hand he was holding the neck of a absinthe bottle, and in the other was a wand that didn’t look like it was even his.
Silas was only vaguely surprised to see Jac still hanging around, but it didn’t last. What did it matter why she was still in her office? She was there, and ‘why’ wouldn’t make a difference. The door slammed loudly shut, and Silas leant his back against some shelves, raising the bottle to his mouth for another swig without looking at her once, every muscle tense.
“Do you have family, Jac?” Silas asked all of a sudden, his head inclining a little to the left and watching the opposite wall without really seeing it. His words were noticeably staring to run together. “I suppose you do. Everyone has family. Alive or dead it doesn’t matter. ...What were they like?” Silas turned his attention to one of the filing cabinets on the opposite side of the room. The new wand flicked in its direction and with a “Reducto” the top of the cabinet blasted apart with the impact of the spell. A step below his utter annihilation of the furniture from last time, and seemingly displeased with the amount of damage, Silas tossed the wand onto the floor. When he spoke again his voice was growing increasingly bitter.
“I hope they fucking loved you because that’s more than I ever got. Everyone else seems to have ended up with a normal family, but no. No, no, no, no, no,” he grumbled. “I suppose you have a sister too. Or a brother. Maybe more, I don’t particularly give a fuck. Those are the ones you gotta watch out for. They'll go for everything you fuckin’ got.” He stopped only to take a swig. “Even if your family’s a little distant you’ve probably heard from them lately. It's something in the Christmas air. It brings them out like rats.”
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Post by Jacaranda Mulciber on Jul 15, 2009 22:59:12 GMT 1
Confusing dreams filled with floating numbers, charts and shorthand were suddenly shattered by a loud crash. Jac woke with a start, eyes unfocussed and wide as she fairly fell against the desk in her surprise. Papers and scrolls piled in her inbox lost a little stability, and some fell out to roll over the desk. Her bleary eyes recognised Silas and she frowned. She had fallen asleep, she knew that, but it couldn’t be the next afternoon yet, surely? Silas was never usually in much before opening, so logic dictated it was later than she assumed. However a quick glance to the clock confirmed it to be mid-morning.
Jac frowned at Silas, flinching again as the door slammed and rattled on it’s hinged. She didn’t think it would take much more of that. He took a large drink from a bottle – nothing new there – but wait, could she smell the drink on him? She knew Silas liked to drink, but she couldn’t remember ever having smelt it from across the room before. His jerky impressive movements and odd behaviour certainly suggested that for the first time since she’d been here, Silas Rosier was drunk.
So flobberworms could fly, hum.
Still hazy from sleep, she would have quite easily entertained his strange new curiosity in her family, but when he lifted an unfamiliar wand and directed it at a filing cabinet, she ducked, squeaking at the huge crashing din it made as the metal top blew out and showered the room in paper. What the fuck? She’d seen him this destructive before, and she hadn’t liked how that ended. Torn between outrage and deference, she thought it best to stay quiet as he rambled on.
Apparently something must have set him off, and considering the topic, it was probably family. Frankly, she couldn’t much care about his problems. It was Christmas Day, and she should be holed up somewhere nice and warm, not napping in her pokey office. Her eyes had been riveted on Silas, but as his tirade trailed off, she gave a spare glance for the new disarray of her office. Papers were shredded and even charred in places. Those were her master copies. He could rant and destroy papers to his heart’s content in his office, but if she couldn’t replace these with other copies, then he was going to make the rest of her year dismal.
“Look, Silas,” She started carefully, slipping her shoes on and drawing her wand out from under a pile of stacked papers. “I’m sorry you’re having a bad day, but I do have an appointment. Christmas dinner, with my sister, actually. Why don’t you hand me that bottle, I’ll cast a few sobering charms and you can get some sleep before tonight’s shift?” She stood slowly while she was talking, stepping over shreds of paper and reaching for the bottle, her voice as calm as she could manage, treating him much like a ferocious animal that might be tamed with a few soft words.
Heh, unlikely.
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