eat your heart out, midas.

@gcldengod​

“ You and Uncle Ben still working out details ? ”  Harold asks, glancing over to Anthony. It’s not that he minded the free time, usually he wouldn’t — he’d be happy to use it working on a new map, maybe his writing, but currently he was just anxious.  “ Need anything ? ”

•

“If you manage to get me a glass of Sauvignon Blanc, silk sheets and an hour alone with a lovely bachelor from Milan, I would be set.” There was a crease on his brow, since trying to juggle the monetary expenses of the expedition whilst maintaining the illusion of luxury and elegance was a tightrope act on its own. This expedition needed to pay off, or it was drab suits in boring offices for him. Anthony would rather eat molten glass.

“Otherwise, little Berl? No,” he sighs, carelessly tossing the pencil to the side, trying to relax. “How about you? Is there any debauchery or preparation I can assist with? I’m very good with the latter, and we can roll the dice on the last bit.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll stop following me around? The mission’s hardly started.” Anthony has many regrets—telling a contessa that her strawberries were out of season, destroy a forty year old port, more trivial things than not. But recruiting the Rhodes-Goldman twins? He wasn’t sure yet, but at this point he was leaning on a yes. 

“When I meant the contract was for immediate employment,” he starts, sighing away a headache, “I didn’t exactly say that your duties were to start immediately.”

"Is there a cat on the premises?” Anthony questions, his brow furrowed. “I’ve heard your brother talk about someone, or something called Kitty. How did he get it past the front desk?” His head is swimming with the fees and the negotiations and every detail that could go wrong about this. God help him, hopefully the cat was a stray nearby.

“Ofrah!” There a smile on his face, though a little more sober than he’d like. Goodwin and his tallies were going to kill him—he hadn’t learned to live moderately and he wasn’t going to start now. “Did you find the transport already, or am I hoping for a miracle at this point?”

"Miss Oldfield! I did not think that Edith would come by with you in tow,” he said, a smile on his face. Catching himself, Anthony cracks his knuckles and makes a show of it. “How are you?” The signing is passable, though a little showy. “Are the accommodations okay?”

Going to the bar was a small reprieve. Gave him a chance to organize his thoughts. It was best, he decided, to befriend Anthony. Keep your friends close but your enemies closer, right? And there was almost certainly going to be an opportunity to draw more money out of him—and Ramses had found that was easier when you were on good terms with a person.

Play nice, then. Ramses could play nice.

He ordered another wine and a double shot of whiskey. It didn’t have gold in it, but it was certainly nicer than he would have ordered for himself.

Ramses returned with a flourish and set the drinks down. He took a sip of his own with a shrug. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours, as they say. A question for a question?”

•

The man had great taste, and he was cheeky to boot. Oh, this conversation would be enlightening—or at the very least, entertaining! Anthony drinks half his wine, letting a beat last between them, before wiping the corners of his mouth with a napkin. He hadn’t missed the flourish or the look he gave him earlier. The night was young and excitement was to be had, it seemed.

“With words like that, you’re going to make me blush mister Samir!” He fans his face jokingly and laughs, the grin he bears only growing by the second. The wine was going to get to him sooner or later, so he thanks his lucky stars that at least it was in the hotel lounge. “But I’m keen to encourage interpersonal relationships between colleagues.”

“You wanted this, I will oblige, as a gesture of good-will,” he replies, leaning back into the chair, “What would you ask of me?”

               “Likewise!”    Sean eagerly shakes Anthony’s hand.   Three firm shakes.   A good,   down to earth handshake.   He smiles,    entirely pleased with the current trajectory of their first meeting.   First impressions are important,   Mr. Goldman once told Sean and his brother,   especially in the world of business.   Mr. Perez is their boss from now on,    so it definitely is business,    but Sean thinks he could be his friend,   too. 

     “Ah!”    He nods understandingly.   He hears that a lot–    but the difference between him and Shawn couldn’t be more crystal clear.

    “The difference between us is pretty obvious.   Shawn thinks the opposite of fire is water,   and I think the opposite of fire is no fire.”    He offers helpfully,    completely failing to mention the fact that their wardrobes tell them apart just fine as well.   No,   what Sean said will certainly help Mr. Perez in telling them apart more effectively. 

Anthony looks like he’s looking far away, his mind turning to thoughts of beaches and cocktails with the waves lapping at his feet and charming people as far as the eye could see. It was a good fantasy to indulge in, after what Shawn had told him. He was charming, in the way a beloved Golden Retriever was, but if that meant working with him during the course of this expedition, Anthony would need to get more patience than he currently owns.

“How—” He bites his tongue and takes a breath. Cordial. Anthony is irritable, vain and cannot cook for the life of him, but he is always the better man in every conversation. “Quaint, Mister Rhodes-Goldman.”

Jeeves had always liked Anthony best of the Perez family, part of that was due to their closeness in age, but part of it was due to how Anthony actually treated Jeeves like a person; not just a carrier pigeon or mule. It didn’t mean that Jeeves was comfortable with Anthony by any means, but he was glad that at least Anthony wasn’t lashing out at him. 

Jeeves sat down across from Anthony, his hands folded in his lap, “I’ve booked an extra ticket back home, out of your parent’s account, in case you’d like to return now. No one will think any less of you for not going through with this.” 

•

"Jeeves.” It’s a statement, laced with exhaustion and fondness. No one would think less of him from the man’s perspective, but Anthony knows that there would be aunts and uncles clucking about and telling him that he should never have begun this with foolish abandon. It was sweet of Jeeves to think so, but it wasn’t realistic at all.

“Just use the ticket, alright? Travel first class for once in your life.” Anthony drinks again, the spiral of the room growing more pronounced. “And if they ask what happened—oh, I don’t know. Make up a story about how stubborn I am, how I threw you out of the room or something. Mother and father will be disappointed, but it’s not like my reputation’s a beacon of morality.”

“Your comfort is my priority.”

There’s a long pause where Shawn seemingly has to stop to contemplate the words that just came out of his own mouth.

“Correction: your safety is my priority. But I promise that your comfort is number two on the list!” Shawn beams a thousand watt smile, and claps Anthony on the shoulder, holding back none of his strength. If he’s noticed the offense he caused with his words, he doesn’t say anything about it. “Just make sure you let me check everything for curses first. And snakes. And spiders. And, like… mud. That’s for safety and comfort.”

•

For a second, Anthony smiles back warmly, the slights (real or imagined) against him scurry to the back of his mind. Shawn’s smile was disarming, to say the least, even more disarming than his, he might have said, though he’d loathe to say it. It was good to have the twins, he thought—if they weren’t spots of sunshine in the expedition, at least they were earnest and helpful.

But the concepts of force, gravity and momentum, coupled with Shawn’s hand conspired to work against him, which tracked, if he was going to go by this conversation.

He stumbles and tries to catch himself, fully scuffing the leather on his shoes. “Of course,” he replies, the sickly sweet tone of jovial irritation in his voice. Count to five, Anthony, count to five. “Curses, snakes, spiders and mud. They’re all yours.”

“  are you certain, anthony? ”  meryem asks, arching a brow. she finds that some patients will press through even the worst pain so that they are not an inconvenience, but her job is quite literally to make sure that he is healthy. she does do as he asks, however, and uses his first name as requested. it feels good, comfortable, to be on a first name basis with him. she hopes that the others are quite the same. a quiet laugh, amused but with part of her focus elsewhere, comes from her at the question.   “ i cannot make you young again, i have not perfected that potion. as for ruggedly handsome, i cannot give you back what you already currently possess. ”   she returns teasingly, looking up to him for a fleeting moment with a half smile that she should do better to hide.

•

Anthony laughs at the obvious attempt at flattery, a lovely thing that rings through out the room. “You’re a woman after my own heart, my dear,”  he replies, putting his hand onto his chest in, looking as sarcastically fond as he can. It was an art, perfected in the long halls of the mansion between dinner parties and entertaining his relatives. After all, he needed everyone comfortable and amiable if this expedition were to go off smoothly. “Where have you been all my life?” He catches the half-smile and grins devilishly back at her. “Cairo, of course, but allow me the dramatics, I’m old and I’m afforded this. So, is there anything that you need more of? Tinctures, herbs, wine? The wine we have a surplus of, but maybe you have discerning taste.”

Jeeves flinches at the change in tone. He should have been used to the volatility of the rich by now, how easily they’d pull off their smiling masks, but he wasn’t. It still shook him. He gulped. “They would like to inform you that you access to the family accounts has been indefinitely suspended. Until you can prove yourself more responsible…they’re cutting you off.” 

•

“Ah.” Anthony drank some more, finishing off the goblet in record time. Responsible was code for ‘get back to the family business and settle on the fact that he was supposed to watch over drones in some office somewhere’ but he could read between the lines. The family accounts were cut off, so that meant his personal funds were on the line—which meant returning destitute if this expedition didn’t pay off. Wonderful.

“Jeeves. Calm your nerves and sit down,” he replies softly yet firmly, closing his eyes in a moment of exhaustion. “You’re not in trouble, you’re the messenger. Just be a dear and relax. Only one of us is going through a crisis right now.”

Jeeves did not smile, he merely averted his eyes. “They thought perhaps this message required a more personal touch.” He pretended not to detect the irony of the Perez’s considering sending someone else to do their dirty work ‘a personal touch’. “It’s about your financial situation.” 

Well, if that wasn’t ominous. Grabbing the wine from the counter, he poured one for himself, and then set one down for Jeeves. Or maybe he was going to drink that too—depending on what the man said. “Spit it out then, Jeeves; I’m not getting any younger, and I’m sure mother’s gardens need tending to.” Anthony drank. It was all that he could do, after all.

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. Ramses seriously hoped the other man had shoes that were more worn in than the ones he was wearing for the journey or he was in for long days filled with painful blisters.

As for alcohol, well, it was complicated. Alcohol in Cairo was generally seen as a tourist-y thing; most locals were Muslim and thus religiously opposed to the stuff. Ramses wasn’t the biggest fan of it—the sharp scent reminded him of bruised knuckles, of home—but it could be useful, he’d found, to share drinks between friends. There was a sort of connection that happened when drinks were shared that didn’t happen anywhere else. And he worked in the tourist industry, after all—it had made sense for him to embrace tourist-y things.

“I’ll try to find something with gold flakes in it, then. For luck, of course,” Ramses grinned boyishly, getting to his feet. He nodded to Anthony’s goblet. “Can I get you another?”

•

There’s something in his eyes, Anthony thinks, but he brushes it off as soon as he thinks it. tonight was going to be about him, wine, and good company; what else could it be about? Unless he was going to poison his cup, who was he to deny him a generous offer? “If you wish it,” he replied, mirroring his grin, “I would have just gotten a waiter to get us some, but if it behooves you, go ahead! Grab a double for yourself!”

His face felt hot and everything was simmering down low in his vision. But the expedition hasn’t even started yet, so he was allowed one night where he can cut loose. “Tell me about yourself when you get back, Ramses. I’ve got half a mind to know all these people I’m supposed to payroll.”

@gcldengod​

Harold had taken a break from either assisting his Aunt and Uncle, trying to psych himself up for what was going to happen in the next few days, or, alternatively, pretending it wasn’t by reading a good book in a secluded corner of the library. Adventurers, willing or otherwise, needed to eat; thus, he finds himself at the hotel restaurant for dinner, and did so around the same time that Anthony had arrived. Harold knew Anthony  better than most of the others on the trip, thanks to his connection to his Aunt, but that wasn’t to say the two were exceptionally close. 

“ Have you done something like this before ? ” Hal inquired, looking over at the other. It seemed like everyone else had more experience with this under their belts than he did.

•

“Hard labor and research, I did back in college, for all the good that it did me. But expeditions?” Anthony took a bite out of his steak, well-done and cooked to perfection. Thank God he booked somewhere ritzy for the team. He was keen to try out local delicacies, but Anthony supposed that they could never go wrong with the classics. “Not at all. Thank Berl and Goodwin for that bit; I did business, literature, art appraisal, but apparently expeditions are where it was at.”

He shrugged, and laid back on his chair, eyeing the man up and down. “And how about you, little Berl?” His eyebrow quirked upward as he tried to gauge Harold, to some degree. Who said that dinner was boring with him around. “Is this your first expedition as a cartographer?”

She pats his shoulder affectionately, the way one might attempt to calm or distract a child. “That was not a threat, my dear, if I was threatening you I would be far more direct and you would be far more frightened.” Edith was not a fashionable person and therefore did not understand that her voice of reason was so dreadfully uncouth. Still, Anthony inspired her to be more daring and more on trend. So she silenced the voice in her head that begged her to reiterate to him just how perilous it could be. “Perhaps we’ll just have to found a new city at the entrance to the tomb. That way you can delight in all your comforts while still being near enough by to lend a helping hand.” She was well-aware Anthony would be lending no hands at all tot he mission, only money, but she preferred to treat him like the others, just so he could feel included. “That depends on the team building. If your idea is getting every roaring drunk then I may have to decline until after we complete the expedition.” 

•

"A new city! Could you imagine? Zoning would be a nightmare, approval from various municipalities and the national government. But our statues would be magnificent! Mine would be bigger, of course, but that’s my vanity talking.” Anthony laughs, carefree as can be, letting himself be comforted with the fact that with his money, Edith’s brains and the team’s skills, they were going to get out of here fabulously wealthy (or in his case wealthier) and famous. The records alone would be to die for.

“Of course that’s the idea. Have you met me?” It’s said with an air of exaggerated affront, the drama in tone so clearly his forte. “Drinking is one of the best ways to get to know people—that and one other thing, but unless you’re suddenly part of a Dionysian fertility cult, we should probably abstain from that. I’m not sure my heart could take it.”

@gcldengod​

“Mr. Perez, sir?” interrupted the young man, “I hate to intrude but I have a message to relay…it’s from your parents.” 

•

“Good to see you, Jeeves!” Anthony has a smile on his face, small and sincere, though he’d like to think about anything else but his parents right now. Bless their heart. “Don’t tell me they had you drag yourself to Cairo for this—a telegram would do.”

               Sometimes–    just,    sometimes,   Sean feels a little self-conscious about his style.   It’s not that it’s inferior,   it’s just that compared to Shawn’s sharp,   clean suits,   Sean is more of a casual dresser.   He likes button-ups because he can have the buttons halfway down,    and that’s about as fancy as the going gets.   

     Which is why he is absolutely relieved to see Anthony Perez dressed in garbs similar to his own   He was expecting a three-piece suit and slick,   shiny hair–    yet Mr. Perez is wearing a scarf over a cotton button-up and his hair is wonderfully lively.   It helps Sean warm up to him immediately. 

       “Mr. Perez!   I’m Sean Rhodes-Goldman.    Shawn told me that you’re the benefactor who hired us?    It is a pleasure to meet you,”    he smiles wide,   extending his hand out for a handshake.    Then,    timidly:   “I must say,    I was a bit nervous when I heard you’re a benefactor…    and a famous one,   at that.”    (Courtesy of his brother saying so).   “But you seem so down to earth already!” 

@gcldengod​.

At this point, he figures the fact that they’re so good-looking is to hide the fact that they keep vaguely insulting him at every turn. Anthony practically feels his blood pressure go up every time he sees them, but at least this one looks like he doesn’t mean much by it. It’s a good start. But he isn’t exactly holding his breath. This was a custom piece made on his thirtieth, for God’s sake; it’s the least down to earth thing he could wear in scorching heat!