His back connected to the wall, their arms loosely cross over their chest once their company fitted themselves in their personal space. For once, it was not minded. Not when they had a point in both their unspoken opinion and their verbal one. Why must genius hide among the sheep?
The answer to that question was quickly answered as security walked among the suits and lab coats, sticking out like sore thumbs. The memory of the last event he had crashed briefly flashed in his mind. Having been forced to escape after creating a scene that just felt right in the moment. Of outing some reports he knew were faked, experiments that had totally failed but were slapped with a ‘success’ stamp of approval. It had felt so good to see their expressions back then. Of seeing people who were interested prior before his out burst to on to the offending party bitterly, angry, and pity, of all things!
Ah, he was smiling again.
“If you had come to the last event, Dr. Barlowe, I could’ve gave you quite a show,” Its ho-hummed with a wistful sigh, a hand coming up to drag through black strains of hair.
“Nothing fills me with more joy than outing cheapskates, fakes, and imbeciles… but unfortunately it seems this year, they’ve improved if only barely. Wouldn’t be as fun to point out the inaccuracies since they won’t mean losing money if they’re hired anyway.”
There was only the slight tick of their head toward Dr. Barlowe, “I hope your own endeavors have been going well since the first and last time we’ve talked. The reports you’ve released have sparked my mind with ideas. Minds like ours in our fields are so hard to come by.”
Security was on alert—though, alert was perhaps too strong of a word. They were stalking with all the skill of a newborn foal. Miror could spot them in the corner of his eye, the way they fumbled through the crowd, lazily rooting around spots that need not be searched. The conduct of people who weren’t invested enough in their work to exert themselves—unless trouble walked into the limelight.
Which, between them, could very well happen.
“Ah, yes, the reports.” A low chuckle, shoulders trembling with mirth. “Truth is, they only show a fraction of my work, darling. Perhaps we ought to catch up over some coffee sometime, exchange in a more—agreeable setting, hm?”
His gaze swept around, leisurely surveying their surroundings.
“Mm, though, backtracking a little—and I think you may agree to this too—it can sometimes be just as fun to let it play out, rather than calling people out on their bullshit then and there. Like watching the beauty of a car crash in slow motion. Especially if you have some,” she peered down at her vivid pink nails then, buffing them with a lazy swipe of her thumb, “connections. The explosive results of same said cheapskates and fakes and imbeciles when their funders find out they’re lying, or otherwise can’t yield satisfactory results, after procuring their money.” That same smirk returned, flashed sidelong, thick lashes fanning over green eyes. “Investors are all smiles and laughs until their money is ill-used. Then all they see is red. And I, for one, can’t wait until they do.”
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