glimmerous_fop | [accidental video ]

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[accidental video ]

[When the feed cuts on there are a few things so incredibly obvious about the scene that anyone familiar with Klavier would know instantly that this was not typical:

A. He has no idea he's being recorded...well this is pretty normal...but his enduring lack of awareness is not.

B. He is in his office and he seems to be working diligently. When has he ever been shown in his office working harder than he plays?

C. Judging by the mountain of paper work and his unkempt, unpolished, devil-may-care appearance he appears to have been here for a while.

And

D. The look on his face suggests he's in a very bad mood on this very fine day.

Which doesn't help when his secretary comes in to check his pulse, thus disturbing the furious flow of his work. And the community is treated to the following interaction:]

What are you doing?

I wanted to make sure you were alive...you've holed yourself up and you haven't come out for hours. Aren't you hungry? Tired?

I'm neither, now leave me, I'm busy.

Clearly something is bothering you, you're more dedicated to your paper work than normal. Won't you trust me and tell me what it is?

I've learned a valuable lesson about naiveté and trust and that it's okay to trust people up till and except when evidence to the contrary proves you're mistaken. Then you're just being gullible.

Anything I can help with?

No, please leave.

But I'm really concerned about you.

I don't need you to be, now leave me alone.

But Mr. Gavin-

[The usually tolerant Klavier brings his fist down hard against the table he's working at sending some papers and a few unstable items flying off while startling his secretary. For a moment his expression is a bit unhinged and vaguely reminiscent of another Gavin.]

Oh!

I said get out!

Yes...you're right...I apologize...

[And soon enough Klavier is alone again in his office and though he seems calm his mood hasn't changed.]

Damn...

[ooc: Normal text is Klavier, italics belong to his secretary.]

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[His brow raises as if to ask 'the hell is that?' at the mace; he looks more confused than threatened, and still more terse than even confused. He's not letting her go easily. The more she tries to pull back, the more his arm around her shoulders threatens to become a noose. He's not trying to terrify her, but making her uncomfortable is a genuine aim.]

Since last night. That's good to know. [A fake, praising smile fades quick, scanning the office. He's going to rob the place, isn't he?] What time?

I...I don't know what time, maybe late in the evening...I wasn't working that shift. I got in this morning and discovered him there...and when he didn't come out for breakfast or a break I went in to see what was wrong and he got upset. I don't know why he's down in the doldrums...so...can you let me go?

No. [His other hand pats her cheek.] Three more questions, so stick with me here, Sweetie.

Any news on anything happening with his brother lately?

Just three? Then you have to let go....

Ah...you mean Kristoph? No, I haven't heard anything about him, and this didn't start to happen until last night. I haven't seen him this upset since...well...never...so it has to be something else.

Alright, this genie has two questions left. Next.

Sassy for someone one muscle spasm away from a choke-lock. He pulls the cigarette to his mouth and mumbles the next question while fishing out a match box. He's going to be lighting it pretty close to both of their faces, since s he's not pulling away or loosening his arm.]

You were in there. You saw what he was workin' on. Anything important enough, connected enough, exciting enough or whatever to be worth drownin' himself in?

[She's been working for Klavier much too long hasn't she? And since he's lighting his cigarette a little too close right now she'll decide to postpone using the spray. She's not sure what the side-effects would be is she sprayed him while he was lighting up. Still, with her free hand she gives his arm a nudge, because it's terribly uncomfortable.]

Just months of paperwork that he hasn't bothered with, monotonous stuff that he usually leaves to people...um...more interested like...his secretary. That's one of the reasons I was confused, but if he's upset he's probably trying to keep his mind preoccupied until he's worked it all out. Like digging holes or hitting a punching bag.

[He's decidedly less impressed with her answers since her first statement of completely new, useful information such as that he came in last night. He tucks the pack of cigarettes away with a slow, smoky exhale. At least he bothers to turn his face away for that much.]

Then, last question... [His arm slips out from around her, taking a step behind her and giving her a nudge towards the door with an entirely shameless pat on the ass.]</small. When's the last time you took an afternoon off just for the hell of it?

[She'd be more grateful for that if he wasn't trying to encourage her to leave the office.]

Never, but...I'm supposed to stay here until I'm off duty...and this is my job...[And yet he let her go so she was pretty eager to get away from the stranger who had an acquaintance with Klavier]...I can...take a late lunch break though so...but I'll be back...

[And if Klavier is dead she'll know who to blame, and she'll cover her ass too, with another uncomfortable backward glance]

If you come back today, I'm gonna assume it's cause the next time you leave here, you want it to be with me, to dinner. [It may forever be a mystery whether he's scoping out her ass so openly and with such a sleazy grin on purpose or just because it comes naturally.]

You would be laboring under the wrong assumption [and then she signs herself out and leaves, but she will remember your face, sir, in case she needs to for future reference.]

She wants me. [He adjusts his vest smugly, turning to the door and feeling his face fall. Skeeving out a female guard is straightforward enough, but...

Making it look like the most natural thing in the world, Greed heads in like he owns the place and, without waiting to be acknowledged, moves forward with the intent to dump the attorney right out of his chair.]

I told you I don't want to be disturbed right now, w-[but before he can finish that statement he finds himself tumbling onto the floor and wondering what just happened. Why would his own secretary tip him out of his seat...but she couldn't be that strong, could she? Well no time for being rational, he was upset before and he's even more furious now so he's quick to lever himself to his feet and round on his offender] I-!

[Greed! Klavier is still red in the face from anger and it doesn't go away at the sight of the Homunculous, but there are other things there too, like confusion. It's quick to pass and he picks up a stack of papers--among the many stacks to choose from--quickly enough before relocating himself to the other side of the table. This is just to put something between himself and his intruder before taking up another chair and continuing where he left off.] Haven't you heard the expression: leave me the hell alone?

Guts of steel, tryin' to blow me off. [Whatever paperwork stack he's working on doesn't have enough cigarette ashes on it. Greed fixes that, stretching his arm across the table to ash, flicking his cigarette right over the top of the stack with a motion insisting he look up and look him in the eye properly.]

[He's not going to let Greed get the best of him, hasn't he already humiliated the attorney enough? No. He'll simply growl at the ashes and pick up his stack of papers to shake them off. He has no intention of looking at you properly right now, it'll just upset him.

Now where's his pen.]

Isn't that a little conceited? My working doesn't have anything to do with you or blowing you off. Now I'm just a little busy.

[A hand smacking down on top of the pile should be a little harder to deal with.] You got a secretary who won't take a day off at knife-point. [It's an exaggeration; he never drew a weapon on her, but it does well to paint himself as a bad guy. The attorney loves his job, even if he's burying himself in menial tasks of it, now. A prosecutor needs a villain to do anything meaningful.] Doin' her work for her's pretty rude. What's she gonna have to do when she comes back around, huh?

[And since Greed's hand is in the way Klavier will sign and initial right on top of it. You've always wanted his autograph, Greed, confess, and his penmanship is gorgeous.] And yet, I'm sure she dealt with you as best as she knew how [Klavier knows better, the only danger his secretary was in was the danger of Greed's lecherousness. So he rolls his chair away from his table investing his interest in a nearby filing cabinet.] It's my work and I'm the boss. I think she'll live.

[No respect. His hand twitches; he's tempetd to shield over, as a pen to the hand can be unexpectedly painful, even if it's not exactly bamboo torture, but instead his fingers curl, crumpling the paper in frustration before reaching out to nab the other's collar, pulling him viciously across the table he wanted between them.] Oi. [Yank, face to face.] At this rate in about one hour, I'm gonna be a criminal on yer world, in yer jurisdiction. Tresspassing, assault, maybe kidnapping. You okay with that?

[Fortunately it's a ballpoint, so it's not as painful as it could be, keeping in mind that it's Klavier and he would never intentionally cause anyone physical harm. Irritation, annoyance, and frustration is always a possibility however, but he's kind enough not to press down too hard. You still have his name on your hand though.

Apart from the attorney's complete neglect or inability to look at Greed at all, there is breathless surprise when he's jerked back across the table. Klavier has himself braced on one knee so he's not in an awkward position on the table. The other leg is stretched out, his foot resting on his chair. His hands instinctively came up to plant themselves on Greed's shoulder. Even though they are face to face the ex-rocker looks Greed in the eye long enough for the shock to fade before casting them down.] What do you want from me? First you tell me we're done and now you're here when I'm...busy...

Busy. Fn. [Shock meets a stare too searing to match his dispassionate drawl. Klavier’s lowered eyes see Greed's grip try to tighten on his collar as if to take it out on the fabric, his forearm shivering with a repressed urge to pull him off the desk entirely. For now, he doesn’t do more than hold him in place, but if Klavier so much as tries to put any more distance between them, he’ll only be pulled closer.] Yer such a lying piece of shit. Ain't you supposed to be the Wonder Boy who can do it all?

Busy...[Klavier's clothing couldn't be any more or less askew, so Greed's attempt at permanently putting wrinkles into his collar doesn't give him the urge to brush the other off so that he can smooth it out. That meant he would have to remove his hands from the other man's shoulder and that was the only thing keeping him from losing his balance, he didn't need to butt heads with the Homunculus, not literally.]...Even a guy like me would have trouble breathing with someone standing on his throat. My life isn't so perfect that I'm not prone to having a work load from time to time. Anyway...if you're done insulting me and humiliating me, tell me why you're here?

Bullshit. [Klavier's given another good shake, Greed leaning back to avoid an awkward facial collision.] You are just so... full... of shit! [And the distance is closed again, forehead to forehead, with harsh, deep breaths.] Why'm I here... Heh... Why the hell're you here, doing the kinda shit you always push off on people like her, huh? Or're you gonna say this [His free hand slams on the desk again, flinging a few sheets of paper in the air for emphasis.]'s important now?

Hu...[He's having a hard time keeping his eyes from pinwheeling while he's being shaken like the human maraca by Greed. And when their forehead's are pressed together it becomes even more complicated not looking at Greed. It' pretty obvious why the ex-rocker didn't want to look at him in the first place, it's a bit unnerving for him to show someone when he's genuinely hurt. There's no physical pain, but his eyes are pretty good at expressing his anguish regardless. How could he look Greed in the face? But it was like the Homunculus was trying to get his attention.]...If you have it in you to be direct with me, then I might answer you. Why are you so interested in how I work...why are you here?

[Greed only gets angrier every time he's asked. The ever-so-busy attorney has to know what kind of face he's making, if he can't look at him like that. He gives another jerk on his collar in frustration, his free hand rearing back as if seriously considering maiming him if he asks just one more time.] Just...ghh... [It looks like an incoming attack. The the hand grabbing his face and twisting through blonde hair certainly isn't gentle or affectionate. The hand on his collar creeps up to the other side of his face, more intent than ever to force direct eye contact.] Just fucking get it already!

Aa...[Klavier felt himself tense up before he could stop it, feeling that there may very well be a serious threat here, that Greed might actually attack him. It wasn't impossible. It doesn't help that even when those fingers threaded through his hair they were a little painful, but at least there was nothing to mess up. He really wasn't sure what to do with Greed now, this wasn't familiar to him at all.] I'm really going to misunderstand you if you don't say anything properly [Which is pretty clear when the ex-rocker mashes his lips against Greed's, probably the most irrational thing he's done all day. What else could he do? The only way the Homunculus was letting him go was forward and so it makes sense...or maybe he's just exceptionally tired.]

[Greed retaliates by jerking him harder into the harsh clash of lips, introducing teeth and tongue into the mix with a frustrated growl. Even for having just put down a cigarette, the flavor of nicotine is overpowering, the result of chain smoking the count down to finally deciding to show up in person. It's hardly savory, and his attitude doesn't soften at all; the grip on the other's smooth face is downright bruising, fingers strewn in his hair. It's still not enough. His hands move, trying to find a stronger, surer grip, another way to pull him into it harder. His arms and the rest of his body can't seem to decide between pulling Klavier completely across the desk or just wrestling him down to it.]

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