* / never enough

The booth was comfortable, legs propped up on the seat and crossed. One arm on the edge of the table the other pushed against the comfy cushion. “How about instead of a drink you fill me in on all of this you are working- Trying to work on.” He smirked, near empty drink in his right hand held at the top loosely. The ice cube left swirling around as he shook it. “Or wings, I might indulge a little less if I had some food.” 

The angel was good at tempering himself, and he somehow managed not to roll his eyes at the other. “Child neglect. It’s a real gas.” His voice was monotone, as usual, but he at least made a motion towards the other’s space. “Fine. Whatever you want, just put it on my tab.” He tapped his pen against the legal pad before hesitating. Yes, okay, so he was antisocial, but that didn’t mean that he had to be an asshole. “Wings or... another drink... or both. Feel free. I’m not much company so maybe a full stomach and light head will suffice.”

“That’s only if you get caught stealing,” he winked at the other, head tilting in the other’s direction. “But other than that, I need my free time and I can’t have people lingering about at all hours. I really should hire someone to do all the boring stuff for me.”

@bcvtista

“How are you today, lovely?” Anna greeted Henri with a smile, even if she went straight to the coffee maker, a good cup of coffee beat almost everything when it was so early “Haven’t seen you around because I’ve been so busy.” and it was a damn shame.

“Overwhelmed.” Henri’s statement came without much legitimate inflection, a statement merely, as though this happened to everyone. Every day. He pulled down his own coffee cup from the cabinet above, waiting patiently for her to finish pouring her own. “Seems like no one knows how to keep their nose to the ground and out of shit these days.”

“Do you even have a child that attends this school?” A thick Russian accent rolled from Principal Absalon Erikson’s tongue, his teasing words as sickly sweet as his smile. There was a wild, adventurous glint in his brown eyes as he addressed the person in his office. They hadn’t even asked him about anything yet – he spoke before giving them the chance to say anything. Sal just enjoyed trying to fluster people. 

“No,” Henri answered firmly, glancing back towards the door of the school. “I’m here to talk to you actually.” He made himself comfortable, without invitation, to the chair across from the principal’s office, tugging into the briefcase to draw out a legal pad and a pen. “What can you tell me about Logan Healy’s parents’ involvement in his life? I’m Henri Bautista. I’ll be representing him their custody case coming up on the first.”