MARCUS AURELIUS:
his most preened and proper and educated self told him to chill, bid on some art, maybe have a drink. and then the former bullingdon club member told him to not chill, destroy some art, break some bottles because nobody needed to be drinking watered down and far too expensive bubbly gasoline. and he’d come with ivana –– so he really was trying to be on his best behaviour. taking a sip of his bubbly gasoline, sarmad studied the painting in front of him –– as you do –– his boredom was interrupted by a familiar voice and a smirk on his own lips.
“ why, were you keeping an eye out for me? ” he teased, glancing over at her ; an eyebrow raised in question. they rarely, if ever, saw each other out of the office. but now here they both were. “ so how’s your night going, wilson? see anything you like? ”
Head shook at his question and while she keeps her expression deadpan, there’s no denying that she was already enjoying this conversation more than she had any of the others so far. “No, not this time. I’m off duty so there’s no need to babysit you to make sure you don’t do anything you shouldn’t.” Tone had turned playful towards the end, an deniable challenge laid down before him. Moments later she’s shrugging, somewhat in disinterest and somewhat in feigned nonchalance, before her gaze is fixed on the painting in front of them. “Well enough I suppose. The art’s beautiful but I won’t be bidding.” Sip of her drink is taken before she shoots him a glance out of her corner of her eye, still facing the painting as a smirk tugs at her lips. “Someone doesn’t pay me enough.”
Gaze flickers over him for a moment, trying to keep her expression assessing rather than appreciative though she’s not sure she manages either. “I like the outfit, by the way.” Maybe she should have just left it there, within professional boundaries, but they weren’t at work. This time there was no distance to preserve and she’d never been one to not say what she was thinking without good cause. “You look good.”


















