'i have a pretty good idea.' t 2 k [it rly isnt a good idea]
he remembers parties like these with the sharp, vivid clarity of a yester-memory. used to love them, even, the same way any kid loves big, lavish celebrations and indulgent food spreads — his parents never let him stray too far from their sights (out of fear, he knows now; easier to keep an eye on one nestling than the however many carnivores circling the perimeters), but it only meant he got to watch them up close, see the easy way they worked their surroundings, always in tandem, a well-oiled machine.
the perfect model.
“a pretty good idea.” he slides up next to toshiro, arm to shoulder, a half-full flute in one hand and topped champagne in the other; the one he hands over. he lifts his own glass to his lips, surveying the venue over the rim.
“let’s picture a scale here.” his throat moves as he swallows the rest of his drink and sets the glass aside. should probably have both hands for this. “on one end, there’s you suggestin’ a fashionably early retreat, and my important role involves makin’ anyone who’s anyone here think we’re leavin’ on account of the fancier, more exclusive party they unfortunately weren’t invited to.”
he knows how those with money act… and how those with serious money act. it’d take maybe fifteen minutes, tops.
“the other end involves light to medium use of man and/or firepower — just for example, to calibrate the ends. now, mindin’ the scale, where’s this pretty good idea of yours sittin’ at? just curious, is all.” a beat. “rough estimate’s fine.”
