the beating heart (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tapeleader) wrote2020-04-02 04:39 pm
tapeleader) wrote2020-04-02 04:39 pm
Entry tags:
planet of love destroyed
Peter didn't want him to go. He only came out and said it once or twice. Saying anything so directly would mean being in Martin's company, the delight of which has worn off over the months. Still, he's made his disapproval more than obvious, primarily in the form of disappearing people and things that Martin needed to get here. His keys and wallet. His desktop computer at one point. His cell phone. His booking agent. One shoe, in a particularly petty pre-flight snit.
He makes one last effort halfway across the ocean, lazy and comfortable in the strange atmosphere of the economy cabin. "You don't owe those voyeurs anything." Peter hummed sleepily over his shoulder, plastic cocktail cup swirling slowly in his hand. "What do you say to landing and taking a nice, long drive out to the midwest? It wouldn't have to be a waste then. We could get some good business done out there. Really save on stress. Doesn't that sound nice..."
But Martin did learn a few things from his predecessor, and the greatest lesson he learned about Peter was that a smile and a nod were the very best way to deal with him. Once he was pacified, do as you like. Certainly, Martin will wander out of his good graces at some point. But he notes as he checks into his hotel room that Peter doesn't stop him or disappear his credit card or whisk away the attendant. He simply dissipates and drifts away and doesn't appear again until they're in the elevator of the Usher Foundation head quarters.
"You picked a fine suit, at least." He remarks of the well-fitting ensemble that Peter himself paid for early on in Martin's directorship. The gray (or is it blue?) is clean and crisp, well-cut to frame the weight he has left, colored to match the lone blue (or is it gray?) eye that preceded it by only a few months. Martin smiles and nods, and Peter lets out a great, singing sigh. "Do be careful, Martin. You're getting very greedy these days, you know. Don't let your eyes be bigger than...well. Just be careful."
His knuckles brush the side of Martin's neck, fingers comb a few cropped curls out of his collar, and Martin reaches for him--finds himself surprised by the nervousness he finds right at the top of Peter's brain. Before he can ask or look for more, the elevator door opens on his floor, and Peter Lukas is gone through the ducts.
Mr. Blackwood approaches the administrative desk alone, leather portfolio tucked under one arm, the other hand settled protectively on top of it, smile demure and eyes too-sharp as he quietly confirms that he has an appointment.
He makes one last effort halfway across the ocean, lazy and comfortable in the strange atmosphere of the economy cabin. "You don't owe those voyeurs anything." Peter hummed sleepily over his shoulder, plastic cocktail cup swirling slowly in his hand. "What do you say to landing and taking a nice, long drive out to the midwest? It wouldn't have to be a waste then. We could get some good business done out there. Really save on stress. Doesn't that sound nice..."
But Martin did learn a few things from his predecessor, and the greatest lesson he learned about Peter was that a smile and a nod were the very best way to deal with him. Once he was pacified, do as you like. Certainly, Martin will wander out of his good graces at some point. But he notes as he checks into his hotel room that Peter doesn't stop him or disappear his credit card or whisk away the attendant. He simply dissipates and drifts away and doesn't appear again until they're in the elevator of the Usher Foundation head quarters.
"You picked a fine suit, at least." He remarks of the well-fitting ensemble that Peter himself paid for early on in Martin's directorship. The gray (or is it blue?) is clean and crisp, well-cut to frame the weight he has left, colored to match the lone blue (or is it gray?) eye that preceded it by only a few months. Martin smiles and nods, and Peter lets out a great, singing sigh. "Do be careful, Martin. You're getting very greedy these days, you know. Don't let your eyes be bigger than...well. Just be careful."
His knuckles brush the side of Martin's neck, fingers comb a few cropped curls out of his collar, and Martin reaches for him--finds himself surprised by the nervousness he finds right at the top of Peter's brain. Before he can ask or look for more, the elevator door opens on his floor, and Peter Lukas is gone through the ducts.
Mr. Blackwood approaches the administrative desk alone, leather portfolio tucked under one arm, the other hand settled protectively on top of it, smile demure and eyes too-sharp as he quietly confirms that he has an appointment.