Like a Moth to a Flame

  • So many newbies lately! Here is a very important PSA about one of our most vital content policies! Read it even if you are an ancient member!
"Timothy, I'm not petty. Why on earth would I dislike you for something like this? He isn't straight, there's no chance of me getting with him. If he was bisexual, sure, maybe the situation would be different," she laughed lightly, fiddling with the cherry clips in her hair, before offering a faint roll of her eyes to assure him she was just joking.

"I'm not bitter, don't fret-- I'm usually the one who panics about stuff that I really shouldn't think about. I like you, you're the only one in the office who I can talk to. The others all think I'm a bore, which I've told you about. You don't think I'm a bore, do you-- or childish. They say I'm childish. All behind my back, of course, but Alexander passes the messages on. He has my back, he says so."​
 
"Well, I like you. To be honest, I would rather have one good friend, not a million okay acquaintances. I mean, that's what my old job was. They were nice to me for the sake of being nice, not because they actually liked me. Ain't that sad?" He replied, while offering smiles to passing coworkers, who made no indication that he was even noticed.

"Hey, look. You're beautiful and talented, so why couldn't you date someone great? I imagine you're here, though, so maybe try online dating? I dunno..."
 
"Online? Oh, god. I've tried, and quickly realised I attract all the weirdos and perverts. Hey, I'm not desperate for a boyfriend. My work comes first. It's my whole life, really. Sad, I suppose, but that's me," she shrugged, pulling her sunglasses over her eyes once the surprisingly strong morning sun hit them. Keeping Timothy close, if only to reinforce to herself that they were friends, she offered him another smile while strolling down the street.

"We'll go to Maz's cafe. Alexander loves it there, so we tend to get discounts because of the publicity. He doesn't need discounts, he's loaded, but I... well, I need to save cash where I can. New York is so expensive, and I barely afford rent. Alexander offers to pay, but-- it's embarrassing, isn't it? I'm an adult, I ought to pay myself."​
 
"There's nothing wrong with a bit of help," he corrected, while casually strolling close to her side. "I get it, you know? I had to ask my dad for a lot of money when I first moved here, but I managed to get enough to put away for emergencies. I'm surprised that we don't get paid more, eh? Can't complain, though. It's something, right?" He offered her with a charming smile, and went as far as to lightly nudge her
 
"Oh, definitely. I'm pretty young still, and I'm grateful I at least have this job. It's great for getting into the business, and... I like to think Alexander's a good friend of mine? It's probably wishful thinking. I bet he insults me behind my back like the rest of the office-- be sure to tell me if he does, won't you?" She urged quickly, her paranoia on full display. When you had gone through high school being the butt of gossip, and the arrive at a job where everyone avoided you, you were bound to develop some paranoid streak-- and it wasn't totally ill-founded. The business was a hotbed of gossip, and the office typified that. People bitched about one another constantly, shot fake smiles before stabbing someone in the back. It was difficult to find a true, good, honest friend-- which was why Sandra was so desperate to keep hold of Timothy and not let him become corrupted by some of the other women there.

"Anyway, Alexander pays much better than other designers, you know? He's worked his way up from the bottom, so he knows what its like to have little-- it's real inspiring. Then again, he's gorgeous. You can get anywhere in life if you look pretty..."​
 
"That's for sure," he sighed, the thought of being able to have such good looks and just bank on those being idealistic, even if his mother would have probably slapped him for saying so. He was taught to work on things that mattered, and to work hard for the things he wanted. To see fashion designers and models stroll throughout New York City without a care in the world, while others immediately scrambled to their feet, was certainly discouraging. Instead, he was just some random person on the block.

"Look, I mean... I've only known Alexander for a bit, but he hasn't said a single thing about you that was negative. To be honest, he painted you as a hard worker. I'd be pretty angry if he said anything badly, I'd have to punch him in the face. I mean, if anyone has a poor personality, it's that one lady at the front desk. She has, like, a resting bitch face."
 
"Oh, that's Phoebe. I don't like her either, she's so dim, it's unbelievable she even has the job. She was only hired because Alexander was dating her brother at the time. You know, you shouldn't even worry about her, she's not worth your time. She doesn't even pretend to like people, which is at least honest of her," snorted Sandra to herself, linking her arm up with Timothy's again, while adjusting her yellow coat. She liked to think she was fashionable, and it was almost a necessity given the industry she worked for, but her style wasn't going to be featured on a runway anytime soon. It was all rather childish, consisting of cutesy designs and pastel colours, but she didn't try to please anyone, and if she was insulted, she had the confidence to shrug it off. She dressed for herself, not for anyone else-- but she did realise it was probably one of the reasons she had yet to find a consistent boyfriend.

"You said you had a friend I could date?" She piped up after a moment, glancing to him after crossing the road. "Is he nice? What's he do?"​
 
"He's a cop," he admitted casually, while strolling down the busy New York City street. "He's a bit tough and jaded, but I guess that comes with the job, for most. I dunno. I don't want you to think I'm doing this maliciously, I just know you both would be cute together." He insisted, before leading her into the cafe with a smile. "I dunno... I just, I think I like Alexander quite a bit. I've only known him for awhile, but he's certainly kind and handsome."
 
"I'm not entirely a fan of cops. Don't get me wrong, they do good work, but they're all intimidating, Timothy. My father was a policeman, and he was the most awful man you'd ever meet. He used to yell at me and my sisters for breathing too loud. I don't really think I'd like this friend of yours, but I won't judge too quickly if he's handsome~ Besides, I can't be too picky. Look at me. How many guys are going to go all doughy-eyed over someone like me, when they can pick up a girl covered in makeup and wearing a thigh-length dress?" She continued flatly, seating herself at her an Alexander's usual booth after waving politely at the owner of the little cafe. She wasn't the most sociable person, but she was when it came to people she knew and was comfortable around.
​
 
"My father was a cop, and he was a lovely man. Not all cops are jerks." He replied, while trying his damnedest to keep from seeming as irked as the comment made him. He certainly felt accepted by the new coworkers, the police were his family. They fought, bickered, and hell, Timothy was often made fun of severely. Despite this, he longed to be able to connect and fit in with them, so still felt desperate to see them in a good light.
 
"I know that, silly. Not all designers are pompous, rude, arrogant pricks. Alexander's proof of that. I'm sure there are nice cops. It just happens that I've met a few bad ones is all," laughed Sandra as she decided to place the order for them, doing so in her usually uncomfortable, awkward way. She didn't mean to sound rude and disinterested, but she really wasn't a people person. In her job, she did need to greet models and organise meetings, but that didn't mean she was particularly good at socialising with them.

However, in the following half an hour, her apparent inefficiencies at socialising were countered somewhat. She was comfortable with Timothy, enough to not seem like she was deliberately rude at least, and it did her the world of good to spend half an hour just chatting about the job and general gossip with him. Nobody had really given her that much of a chance to prove that, behind the awkward exterior, she was rather fun.

It was cut short, though. Quietly examining her phone, she almost immediately jumped to her feet at the texts from Alexander, who had arrived back at the office hours before she expected and was presumably irritated that she wasn't there waiting for him. His irritation with her only lasted a moment or two - he forgave her almost instantly when realising she had been out with Timothy, assuming she was settling him in properly.

"Did the man back down from his threats?" Asked Sandra after closing the door to Alexander's office, busying herself with straightening his papers while exchanging a quick glance with Timothy. He was an assistant, now, so she thought it was fair to involve him in the private chats-- and Alexander clearly didn't mind, simply grinning at them both as he sunk to his chair. "I don't... think it's funny, Alexander. The man's completely out of order, threatening you like this-- do you know who sold him the blueprints?"

"Hm? Oh, no. I'll figure it out-- or you can. You know you'll figure it out quicker than I could. I visited Mark, and he wasn't in, so I grabbed another coffee and headed back for the office. I'm sure he'll back down. It's unprofessional, and he prides himself on being moralistic and a good man. He'll realise it's all so childish," smiled the designer calmly as he lit up a cigarette, while fiddling with the corner of his sleeve, where a spot of bright red had stained the light blue fabric. Noticing Sandra's curious glances, he casually shrugged and laughed again. "Paint. I leaned against a fence that wasn't quite dry, Sandra. I'll need this dry-cleaned, I suppose. Maybe you can organise that for me, Timothy?"​
 
Timothy's own eyes locked onto the sleeve of the shirt, though his quick thoughts of trying to find how to get a hold of the fabric, his eyes brightened immediately at just how simple it seemed to be. With the offer of a wide grin and an awkward thumbs up, he chugged back the coffee he ordered that was casually holding onto in his free hand. He didn't want to seem too excited, so blocking his face with the coffee was good enough, right?

"Of course I can! We can get it cleaned after we hang out, alright? I know the best dry-cleaners in this district." He replied confidently, though his appearance eventually did fade to genuine confusion. "... but, uh.... who is this 'Mark' guy again? I mean, I guess it isn't my place to know, but I'm curious."
 
"It is your place to know, Timmy. You're my right-hand man. Mark's... he's an old friend of mine. We rose through the ranks in the fashion world together. He designed that very strange neon-suit last fall. I wasn't a fan, but his style's always been a little 'out there'. Now, he's been sold designs and is threatening to release them before they're completed. It'd compromise my new collection, and the high street will release copies before my collection is even out. It'd just be hectic-- but I'm sure he'll soon see sense and realise how petty he's being. I won't get the police involved, it'd cause trouble--"

"I, of course, think he ought to inform the police about some things," muttered Sandra matter-of-factly, tutting beneath her breath as she quietly refilled Alexander's coffee mug for him. "Timothy, you've heard about all these dreadful murders, haven't you? Spanning the last year? There's links. They're all people involved in the fashion business. Models, designers, makeup artists-- all people Alexander knows. I personally think the police should offer him protection. There's a nutter out there who's probably got his face pinned to a board, planning to kill him too. There are links, Alexander!"

"And I think you're being melodramatic. I highly doubt anyone's wasting their time planning my murder," he chuckled, while subtly tucking the sleeve with the red drop away, out of further view. He didn't react any differently, but he had noticed the excited response of Timothy-- and he was perplexed by it. All it meant was doing a little private research onto Timothy, just in case he was hiding things from him. If he was going to strike up a romance, he wanted to make sure just who he was getting romantic with. It was hypocritical, of course. He was a murderer and was hiding that, but his case was different, wasn't it? "Tell her, Timothy. These murders... they're awful, but I'm not in danger, am I? I don't know why I'm asking you. You're not a policeman. I just... trust you. You're smart. Do you think I should go to the police?"​
 
"N-No, I think you're fine. I mean, look at you! Even if a murdered tried to mess with you, you could probably m, like, toss a tie clip into their eye and kill them instantly somehow. I think you should be wary, sure, but so should anyone living in New York City." He insisted with a much more 'lax smile. While a part of him knew Alexander was high on the list, the other genuinely did find the man both interesting and attractive. "Let's not talk about it, huh?"
 
"Oh sure, brush it under the carpet. You'll regret saying that when Alexander is shot between the eyes in his apartment. I won't forgive myself if something happens to you and I haven't protected you properly, but it's your call. You don't want to take the threat seriously: don't. I just think you're at risk," sighed the woman as she quietly set the folders down on his desk finally, having held them protectively to her chest until realising her impassioned pleas were falling on deaf ears. "Here's the sales from last month to file through. I'll go and organise a meeting with Mark-- I assume you'll want to speak to him at some point. Timothy, come organise the dry cleaners--"

"I'm not done with Timothy yet. I have something serious to discuss with him, Sandra, so if you'll close the door behind you, that'll be smashing," smiled Alexander, though deliberately kept a serious look in his eyes until the woman left. "She'll be wondering what I want with you, thinking I'm going to lecture you. Relax. I just want to ask about tonight. You still want to go out, don't you~?"​
 
"Well, obviously. If I didn't, I wouldn't have been so excited to do so." He replied as his smile only grew. "Are you sure you want me to go in this suit for dinner? I'm, um... I'm really not used to going out to fancy restaurants, you know? Buying a grande frapp at Starbucks is bourgeois enough. You probably don't want me to get coffee from there, huh? Too cheap... But you gotta admit, that s'mores one they have in the summer is amazing." He insisted with a dramatic moan, all the while taking a careful seat from across the designer's desk.

"Sorry, about the rambling. I'm just excited, you know? Haven't been on a proper date, like... ever. To go on one with someone as prestigious as you is just so surreal. I promise not to embarrass you, okay? I mean, I imagine there'll be people taking pictures..."
 
"Hey, you can go wherever you want. Who am I to tell you where to get your coffee? Timmy, I told you I think you're cute. Where you get your coffee doesn't impact my opinion of you whatsoever," he reassured with a playful grin, busying himself by pulling open a few files, even if he did so lethargically and with no real interest. He just thought he ought to try and act like he was focusing, urge himself on to do some work, even if he much preferred talking to Timothy as a form of procrastination. It was much more fun than reading some boring statistics, anyway.

"Pictures? Oh, I assume there'll be quite a few opportunists, but it's what I expect whenever I head on out, especially if I have a new man on my arm. Ignore them. Shoot them a smile, give them their picture, and then move on. I try not to be rude. They're doing a job, I appreciate the publicity. They can get intrusive, but I take it with a pinch of salt, really-- tonight should be fun. You wear that suit, I'll wear something nice, and we'll enjoy a meal together. Maybe I'll get invited back to your place afterwards, hm~? Assuming it all goes well, at least. You've spent a night at my place, least you could do is offer me a night at yours~"​
 
"That's fine by me, sure! I'll need to clean it up though, first, okay? It's embarrassing. Plus, maybe you should get proper sleepwear, huh? I mean, I'm assuming you're going to stay the night. It's like the slumber parties I had when I was younger, only more adult. Instead of popcorn and cartoons, it could be some wine and bad movies?" He suggested weakly, all the while regretting just how childish the whole thing seemed. A sleep-over? Both men were in their 20's, and Timothy had been through training and schooling, yet here he was, suggesting a fucking sleep-over?
 
"I was hoping there'd be some sex, to be honest. Or at least some making out, a few touches here and there. Is that too adult? Would you prefer we just crash out watching cartoons? Some good ol' Scooby Doo? I'd be down for that, by the way. I'm perfectly fine with that. It's nice to goof off from being an adult now and then, with all the fucking responsibilities and stress and... ugh. A nice little sleepover sounds great. I'm certainly not expecting to go and have sex with you, let's get that straight. It was-- I was just thinking-- I'm digging myself into a hole, aren't I? Let's forget about that. I have an awful habit of putting my foot into things," he laughed openly, while his cheeks did display just a little red to them of embarrassment. It was the first time he had looked flustered and embarrassed, which at least showed he was human and not some robot who didn't have his own flaws.

"Tonight will be fun, regardless of what happens," he confirmed, deciding to sum it up with a general statement and bring less attention to his earlier... assumptions. "Anyway, how's it been with Sandra? She likes you. That's good, y'know? I worry about her. She's a little sister to me, really. I... want her to make friends. She's a great assistant, but she's also my dearest friend, and I'm glad you're getting on with her-- you are getting on, aren't you? She can be overbearing, I'll admit that. And her childlike obsessions are a little odd, but I think it gives her character, frankly. It's interesting. Cute, even."​
 
Initially, silence followed as Timothy stared at the other in shock. He wasn't some shy little kid, and he had many experiences with some hardcore and raunchy sex, but he was always pretty hesitant to be so open about them in front of strangers, or open spaces. They were in an enclosed, nearly completely soundproof office, but at any moment, Sandra could just peak in.

"Oh, Sandra? I mean, she's pretty nice..." he finally replied, once even he realized just how long the pause was. Wiping his cheeks in an attempt to hide his burning blush, he tried to shrug off the whole thing as he offered a smile. "It feels like one of those 'girl's night out' movies. I feel like the stereotypical gay friend who has to tell her what guys not to go for and stuff."
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Top Bottom
Back