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★ it's the wrong time for somebody new | why do people let me do things

[Une's idle forefinger traces lackadaisical circles onto Kyoya's bare back, a gentle touch nothing like the tight clutches from the night before. He doesn't stir, still asleep. He'll have to wake up soon enough. She snaps and the lights turn on, a dim orange glow. The ruby on her wedding ring catches some of the light and it glimmers as she fights the urge to scowl. A constant reminder of her fate. "The exact same shade as your eyes," she'd told her then-fiancé. Such sentimental nonsense for a marriage of convenience.

There's really not much to see. Might as well have kept the lights off. There are nights when she just stumbles to her bed in the dark. She's had this suite for five years now, and it's still as empty as ever. The only thing her bedroom can boast of in terms of furnishings is a dresser with an obscenely large gilded mirror, a simple desk and a practical bedside table bearing an alarm clock. The bed itself, while spacious and soft, is usually just decked out in gray: gray sheets, gray pillowcases, gray cloth in excess. Was it really so wrong to bring someone in and give color to it once in awhile? After all, even at 26, she's starting to feel rather gray herself.

Her husband's concerns lay mostly with his laboratory. That's why she chose him, wasn't it? He would never stray or bring her scandal. Far too enamored with his work. Of course, that came with its own pitfalls. He's always been a hard man to please and tearing his attention away from his scientific pursuits could prove damn near impossible unless he needed her help funding something.

It's a ridiculous state of affairs when you have to pay your own husband to come to your bed.

So, on occasion, she indulges the repulsive creature inside her that yearns to feel wanted. Last night, she found herself particularly alone while working overtime. With her better half having gone down to the planet to collect soil samples for most of the week, she knew she would be coming home to an empty room. That's when she decided to go down a floor, seek the nearest male employee burning the midnight oil, and throw her sales pitch: the one that almost always guaranteed her someone to warm her bed.

Kyoya Ootori has granted her almost five years of dedicated service by now, and grown up quite nicely on the job, too. A bit taller than her with a nice head of hair kept cut in a dignified fashion, and glasses that lend him an air of refinement. He has a certain boyish charm. He also had to have a silver tongue of sorts to have lasted so long as head of her organization's PR department; a position he's held since age seventeen. One could only wonder if his mouth was good for more than just talking.

Une got her answer and more. But then again, sex is the easy part. The aftermath's harder to deal with. Regrets are easier felt without pleasure ebbing through one's body.

She lost the ability to feel regret for this sort of thing a long time ago, but the boy in her bed hasn't.]

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[Kyoya's never been a morning person. Even on a good day, there's a delay between him waking and between him actually being awake enough to interact with. It was symptomatic of his workaholic tendencies; a habit he's still yet to grow out of even this many years on. Indeed, were it up to him then work and sleep would be all to fill his time; only that he has friends outside of the organisation prevents him from never leaving the organisation's building.

That, and the need to network, of course. But it didn't really count if it was still business.

It's therefore perhaps not so surprising that he's never had a girlfriend since arriving on board the Thor almost five years ago. Girls who were interested? Naturally; it was his ability to draw attention that had made him such a good fit for the Host Club. Girls whose interest in him he had indulged? Not so many, but if it was of benefit to him then who was he to deny them? But none of it ever lasted; once they'd served their purpose they were discarded without a glance back.

His boss had always been off-limits. For all the attractive qualities Une had, none of them negated the fact that she was the one who determined whether he stayed with Preventer or not, and then she'd gotten married and that was one more reason to stay away. Not that he had ever actively pursued her in the first place.

It's because of all of the above that when he stirs, he doesn't immediately remember where he is. Which, all things considered, is probably for the best because panic would very much not be his friend right now]

[When she hears him shuffling under the sheets, she's quick to turn her back to him. If he wants a quick clean exit while he thinks she's still catching forty winks, who is she to deny him? Fair is fair. After all, she's already gotten what she wanted. Might as well make it as convenient for him as possible. A minor courtesy.

She wonders if he'll call in a favor down the line in exchange for this little tryst. The boy's ambitious. But is he ambitious enough? After all, taking advantage of what this situation presented would mean acknowledging that it actually happened to a point that she would be unable to deny it.]

[Kyoya's taken the easy exit strategy before. It's so simple to walk away when the morning's a rush to get out to work and then there never has to be that awkward conversation about where anyone stands because hey, he wasn't marketed as the cool type for nothing.

He always suspected Tamaki would have something to say about that were he here, but he gave up on expecting him to arrive a long time ago. Which, given the turn this morning has taken, is probably just as well.

As he stirs to the point of actual waking, rather sooner than would be typical for him, he sits up and allows the sheets to pool in his lap. He then makes a reach for what should be the bedside table except that he's on the wrong side from what he normally would be and instead of table there's another half of bed there.

Another occupied half of bed.

He'll have to deal with that in a moment. Right now, he just needs his glasses.]

Edited 2012-03-12 17:51 (UTC)

[When he gets up, she slowly starts to count to a hundred in her head. A good one-night stand is usually dressed and out the door well before she gets to fifty. Those are reliable enough to tap for another round down the line. Wonder if he's up to that standard. After all, it wasn't a particularly wild night. Hadn't he insisted on folding and piling his clothing neatly on the dresser (glasses resting on top) before they went about their business? With that sort of head start, she would think he'd be more than ready to leave by the time she reached thirty.]

[Kyoya's propensity for neatness would indeed have given him a headstart were it not cancelled out by his bleariness in the morning. Eventually it does dawn on him that he's actually going to have to get up to find his glasses and he stumbles towards the dresser.

Note to himself: in future, don't leave things so far away if they're needed to see.

Once he has his glasses, he's better able to appreciate that the room he's in is not his own - itself not so unusual; easier to leave behind than to kick people out, not that he's too shy about the latter either. There's always something a little distasteful about last night's clothes this morning but again it's a temporary inconvenience that he works to ignore.

He's also better able to appreciate and finally acknowledge what he's managed to avoid so far: he woke up naked in his boss' room. His married boss' room. It starts to flood back to him, how she approached him, both of them working late. How she had appealed to the side of him that sought to please her, to keep her on-side and had made him think this was actually a good idea.

He doesn't like mistakes, and he's woken up bang smack in the middle of one]

[Eyes closed, the count continues as her ears perk up, listening to the patter of his steps as he walks around, noting the distinct silence that comes when she assumes he's reached the dresser. Ah, we have a contemplative one here. Lots of dallying.

Her ears perk up, seeking the sound of rustling clothing; a frenzied rush to get dressed. It's a pity. She was expecting the hiss of sliding doors by now.]

[Nothing frenzied but Kyoya does slowly begin getting dressed, thinking the whole time. There's a part of him that thinks he should try to say something, but he doesn't want to wake her and he also knows he needs time and coffee to compose himself.

Retreat, regroup and deal with the fallout later.

Still he takes the time to ensure he looks somewhat presentable, at least as far as he can for a walk of shame. Mercifully he at least doesn't have to leave the building which reduces the chance of him running into someone he shouldn't.

One final glance back and he's out of there. Shower, coffee and then back to work while he figures out where to go from here.]

[There's the sound of applause coming from the bed. Une's sitting up, sheet wrapped around her in as modest a manner as the situation will permit.]

You know, I would have scored you a solid 85 but you lose points for a less than stellar exit strategy. Brings it down to 68.5, I think.

[He stops, tensing at her words. This is new territory for him; he's used to being the one who's in control of situations where here he very clearly isn't. Because what is he supposed to say that isn't going to score against him later down the line?

Why did he let himself get into this situation again?

That being the case, he decides brevity is his best bet here. He doesn't even turn to look at her as he speaks.]

Duly noted. I'll keep your comment in mind.

[For what? Who knows. But it's as diplomatic an answer as he can muster right now]

[There's a snort. She's a veteran at this and, cruel as it may be, she does take some pleasure in seeing the men she beds squirm. Her husband's sadistic streak must be rubbing off on her.]

Would you like me to break down the reasons for your score?

[She's not even looking at him, absentmindedly twisting the ruby ring on her finger.]

[Not especially. It is too early for this sort of conversation and even if it weren't, Kyoya's not one in the habit of allowing others to humiliate him. Boss or otherwise. It's perhaps a combination of these two factors that leads to his unintentionally terse response]

I was not aware that this was an evaluation.

How else will you improve? You've always been eager enough to hear my critique on other matters. Or does four years of my counsel mean nothing to you?

On business matters.

[He's sure to emphasise the business part there]

Last time I checked, my personal life fell outside of that.

[And he's fast remembering why he usually keeps them separated]

Consider this a stress test then. Won't that help you on the field?

[If she smoked, this would likely be the part where she took a cigarette and lit up. A turn-on for some. Pity she could never really pick up the habit. She heard it did wonders for de-stressing.

Instead, she just shrugs and sits still.]

You've gone and complicated things, after all. The time for a clean exit has come and gone. What's the next step you'll take? You can still come out on top.

Unlike last night, that is.

[Stress test was about right. And he can't help but bristle at her comments to him. As though he were the one to blame for all of this]

Last night was a lapse in will-power. One which I assure you will not be happening again.

[Even though she's about the only person he knows who could actually get him to submit and that was about the biggest point of intrigue in the first place.]

Is that so, Mr. Ohtori? I think it's an experience that bears repeating. Or did you find it unpleasant?

[Way to corner him on that one, Une]

I didn't say that. But I think we both know how allowing this to become a more than one-off occurrence could end badly.

Then it'll test your mettle then.

[the smile on her lips grows ever so slightly]

Adapt, Mr. Ohtori. Was it really so bad? Would you really throw away four years of good will so easily?

[It was a trap from the start. How else has she kept so many male employees under her thumb for so long? There's the occasional quitter but those are easily remedied. Truth be told, the ones who fail to impress are the lucky ones in this arena. She's fine with letting them slip through her fingers. Unfortunately for Kyoya, as always, he made quite the impression.]

[His jaw tenses at that. He knows a threat when he hears one; after all, he's mastered the subtle threat technique himself.]

Just what are you implying?

Life doesn't have to be as difficult as it could be.

[Her smile's devolved into sternness now; mouth with smeared lipstick forming a thin line.]

[That gets him to turn. It's a fine line between being accommodating and being a doormat and he's sworn he'll never be the latter]

My record's clean. Not that most employers here are concerned with that anyway. If you wish to attempt to smear my reputation based on one lapse of judgement then of course I can't stop you, but I don't expect that it will leave me quite as bereft as you might like to think.

[A dangerous gambit, but he won't be threatened if he can help it]

Of course. You're very resourceful. But wouldn't it be better not to lose your stability? Everything you've worked so hard to build? Besides, I'll tire of you eventually. It's guaranteed. All you need to do is wait out the storm, maybe even enjoy the rain on your face as a reprieve from the daily grind.

[He knows very well she's not talking weather.]

Edited 2012-03-13 19:15 (UTC)

I started with nothing when I arrived here. Starting over might not be ideal, but it wouldn't be the first time.

[Not to mention this time he has a little more than the nothing of before.]

Regardless, it might have been better for you had you not played that particular card.

[Because even though they both know this is temporary, he doesn't take well to being told he's essentially a toy]

A game, is it? What if it's not just you at risk? You have friends, don't you?

[Not that she'd actually do anything to them but he knows what she's capable of.]

[Okay, that's crossing a line. He might not have many, but those he does have he does what he can to protect]

Leave them out of this.

All I'm saying is that it would make work far more difficult without you at the helm. Helping them would fall under that. Without your promotional skills bringing in investors and freelancers, we'd end up in quite a lot of trouble. There aren't any suitable replacements for you.

[And there's the play. Switching gears. Appealing to ego.]

So maybe I took a calculated risk in taking you to bed. Can you blame me? You make everything worthwhile. I just wanted to see if you could be consistent across the board. Granted, there's room for improvement but that counts for most everything.

[That catches his attention. Another fine line, between flattery and mere appreciation and the latter's something he's always sought. Someone to recognise his achievements, someone who valued him. And he'd done it here without the power of his name behind him.

So perhaps it wouldn't hurt to play the game a little longer. If not for him then for those who served as his sole connection to home.]

Name your terms.

Merely discretion. A chance to hone the skills of someone with your talents. Not too much to ask is it? You show so much promise.

[Hm...not the sort of animal to be backed into a corner. No, this one needed gentle coaxing and reward. Almost Pavlovian, really.]

That shouldn't be-

[He stops suddenly, freezing up at the sound of the sliding doors. He glances back before looking to her, a flicker of uncertainty beneath the controlled façade.]

[It had been a long day at work, but only because Albert Wesker is a man who makes a habit of it. And yet he doesn't look tired -- there's no five o'clock shadow that lingers this particular morning, leftover from the long night before. There is only his expression, chiselled features cool and forever difficult to read with certainty as he steps into the room.

Wesker's in the middle of unbuttoning the collar of his shirt (having abandoned his lab coat prior) when he notices the scene before him. A fraction of a second passes before he deduces exactly what has happened since he's been away; it doesn't take a scientific genius to figure out the evidence here.

Collar unbuttoned, he lets that hand drop to his side while the other reaches up to adjust the rim of his shades.]

Ah, Lady. [He peers over at her naked form, covered by the sheets.] I see you've been hosting company while I was away. [His tone is not angry or even agitated in the least. It is, in fact, borderline detached-sounding, if not for the tinge of faint condescension.]

Edited 2012-03-13 20:56 (UTC)

Welcome home, dear. I hope the planet treated you well.

[Her tone matches his as she sees herself faintly reflected in flagrante delicto on the surface of his dark glasses. She's lost count of how many of her flings he's walked in on. His response is always the same: apathy. Why bother being discreet?]

Of course you know the head of our PR department, Kyoya Ootori.

Edited (wow i edit too much) 2012-03-13 21:02 (UTC)

[Une might be meeting this with apathy but Kyoya can't shake the underlying fear that comes of being caught by her husband when said husband could likely snap him like a twig and not break a sweat. And it would be well deserved, too.

He grants a nod of acknowledgement to Wesker before determining that a quick escape is probably for the best]

I know when my welcome is outstayed. If you'll excuse me.

[He moves to attempt his escape. Key word: attempt]

[Unfortunately for Kyoya, he has to at least walk past Wesker to make it out of the room, since the scientist is still positioned immediately in front of the door. He reaches out and plants a firm grip on the boy's shoulder as he passes by -- nothing painful, but swift enough to at least temporarily halt his retreat.

None of this comes as a surprise to Wesker; it's not the first time he's been exposed to once of his wife's dalliances. That doesn't mean he sometimes lets both parties off the hook without indulging himself in the uncomfortable atmosphere first.]

You play a dangerous game by accepting her initial offer -- you realize that, don't you? [It is said with a smile, however, before he finally releases his grip. His next statement is directed at Une, even as he begins to cross the room rather casually.] Can't you see you're making him uncomfortable with your proposals, my dear? Why not leave the boy alone?

I was bored. You always keep me waiting.

[Ah, there it is. Though her tone's calm and emotionless enough, she means every word without irony. In the end, her loyalty still lies with her better half. Distorted as things may be, it's his attention she covets most. Her extra-marital affairs are mere substitutes for what she truly wants.

Just pay me a little more attention. Please.

Even gaining his ire is preferable to coldness.

The ruby ring on her finger's subject to twisting again even as her eyes stay locked on Wesker. It's almost as if Kyoya's become a non-entity, something she can see right through.]

Edited 2012-03-13 21:30 (UTC)

[Kyoya tenses at the grip on his shoulder; he knew this was likely to happen even as he'd hoped otherwise. Just because he didn't work too closely with Wesker doesn't mean he doesn't know his reputation, after all.

He waits until he's released before finding his voice again]

I assure you, I intended no disrespect. Nor do I intend to remain where there are clear discussions to be held which I would be intruding on were I to stay.

[He hears the meaning in Une's words, and her unwavering gaze isn't something he can easily ignore. He does set the notion aside for now, however -- this is something better dealt with and talked about later.

He then turns his back, digging through his pockets and setting down a small PDA full of scientific notes and observations from his visit on the planet on a nearby desk. It's his own version of tossing his wallet and keys aside after a long day's work, just not nearly as domestic.

As he does so, he retorts back to Kyoya.] Of course. I'm not going to be the one to keep you here. Whatever issues you may now have lingering with my wife can always be discussed between you and her in private, if you wish.

[It's permission for him to leave; if not from Une, definitely from Wesker.]

[There's dead silence from her, only a nod of ascent, hand faltering in its ring twisting and now clutching at the sheets covering her. Her stare doesn't stray, and she wonders if those lips will move for her later, speak to her.

He didn't even say goodbye when he went down for his field work. Didn't even leave a note.]

[Kyoya simply nods in response before turning and making his way out of the suite. He has a lot to think about and all he wants to do is throw himself into his work and ignore it]

[The hissing of the doors sliding shut behind Kyoya tell Wesker that the third party has now left. He doesn't say anything first, too busy straightening papers and jotting down things to be remembered for later on said papers -- he does this while standing, leaning on the desk, implying that he won't be doing it for much longer. When he's done, he sets his pen down with a somewhat sharp noise that breaks the air of silence.

The sunglasses then follow, being set down next to his work, and he turns to her at last.]

You're in a bad mood now. [understatement or an oversimplification or both.] If I just ruined something of potential interest for you, you should have let me know; I wouldn't have come home so early.

Edited 2012-03-13 22:08 (UTC)

I didn't want you to leave in the first place.

[Her eyes are mostly vacant, and her tone flat. It's like his mere presence is enough to suck all the vitality from her, render her to less than nothing. There's no strength to her voice, no strength of conviction to the syllables no matter how much the meaning rings true. She would plead with him if she thought it would do any good.

And in the past, she has.

All it ever got her was the sight of his swiftly retreating back, lab coat swishing, etched into her memory.]

Edited 2012-03-13 22:14 (UTC)

[Wesker's own tone is unwavering and solid, every word said with clarity and an empiricism so trademark of the man. He doesn't turn from her, not yet -- he often is the one to end conversations like these, whenever he desires, however he desires.]

It was integral to the research that I'm currently conducting. Research that, may I point out, you often find very valuable for Preventer's sake.

[That's all this ever was, a mere business transaction. Wesker never entertained ideas of anything more, though he's well-aware of her own feelings on the matter -- this, however, only tends to make him more cruel. More manipulative.

He does deprive her of hope, but sometimes he'll leave a small bit of it remaining, dangling in front of her like a carrot in front of a horse. He's no fool; to disillusion her completely would be the same as him relinquishing the control he possesses. He'll not let go of that.]

Did you miss me?

[She doesn't move, doesn't speak. It's a game. They've been playing this game for as long as she can remember and she's been losing from the start. His dice are loaded, and no matter how much she blows on hers for luck before throwing them down on the table, she'll never get the numbers to beat him. After awhile, it'd be obvious to anyone that the other player's a cheat. It's apparent to her but calling him out on it now would mean ending the game.

She wants to keep playing, wants to keep losing. Anything to keep him from slipping away.

After what seems like an eternity, her head shifts in the subtlest of nods before she turns her face away, her long brown hair falling to cover it.

She's not crying. She hasn't cried since the night he first kissed her.

She's getting awfully close though.]

Edited 2012-03-13 22:31 (UTC)

Good.

[That's all he can say to that. That single word is his only response to the sight of his wife falling apart right before his eyes. Good. It's good that you missed me.

He lets that linger in the air for a moment longer. Nothing else really needs to be said, nothing that hasn't already been said.

Then Wesker shifts his weight, no longer facing her but at an angle to where she can see his profile, all sharp edges. A fitting sight for him. He's undoing the rest of the buttons of his shirt, each one done away with a single, quick and practised motion.]

I need a shower. You probably do, too.

[A jab at her latest actions, in the flattest of tones.

But then there's that carrot.]

You may join me, if you like.

[And he merely walks off into the direction of the bathroom.]

[Closing her eyes, she bends her legs to hug her knees as she lies down under the covers. It's a meager attempt to close herself off, to try and clear her head, to tell herself that she's too good to be falling for this again. Her eyes are shut tighter, trying to force herself into the darkness of sleep but only causing the muscles in her face to tense until she's unable to keep from gaping at the sea of gray cloth she's sunk into.

She can see the orange glow through the fabric, shining through the threads; and she reaches out to touch it like a curious child, ruby ring catching enough light to gleam again.

Her wedding ring.

She never takes it off. Not unless absolutely necessary. Only metal detectors and security checks have ever parted this ring from her finger and, even then, she's always quick to slip it back on. It's a part of him that doesn't ever leave her. Even when she sheds her clothes for other men, the ring stays on.

The exact same shade as your eyes.

Even when he frustrates her to no end, she can't bear to part with it. It's become too familiar, too constant in a world of uncertainty.

With deliberate slowness, she sweeps the sheet away, bare feet touching carpet. Wearing nothing but her ring, she makes her way to the bathroom.

If you're losing anyway, why deny yourself the consolation prize?]

Edited 2012-03-13 23:10 (UTC)

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★ it's the wrong time for somebody new | why do people let me do things

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