[ It's easier. Alan's there 5 minutes late--one more sentence, one more quick proofread--but his stride is brisk and confident as he rounds the corner in his brown suit, giving a little half-wave. ]
He was reading when Alan rounded the corner. At the hail, David looks up, lifting his chin in that Particular Masculine Greeting as he gets his first good look at Alan. Of course it's the first good look Alan will have gotten of him too, probably, which means he'll get a taller, blue-eyed, Southern Arthur Lester offering his hand at Alan's approach.
Oh, fuck. It's Arthur again. Distinctly American, but same face and all. Great.
He offers his hand back, also nodding in a Very Manly Way, handshake firm but not too firm. He's not trying to pull anything, but he's genuinely curious about the guy.
"Likewise. You've got Saga Anderson, she's pretty important to me." His lips flicker into a half smile.
"She's also going to get the job done. Congratulations in advance."
There's something that passes through David's psyche as Alan congratulates him, says she's going to get the job done. That feels strangely more like a threat than the reassurance he thinks Wake meant it to be.
"Yeah." He lifts his glass, acquired shortly after his own arrival. It helps that most of the tables have good sight lines, so he didn't have to jockey for a spot that feels comfortable. Inmate paranoia at least made that easier for everyone. There's a moment of indecision before he drinks more than is mannerly.
Alan's watching David far more than casually, observing him in a curious manner. The flick of a gaze to the door, the gulp of the drink. It's telling. Alan is analytical only up to a point--but it's absolutely something he files away for later, leaning back slightly.
"I was involved in a case she worked," he says out of the sheer need for simplicity, grabbing the beer he'd ordered like it's a cup of coffee, nursing it. "She saved me. I owe her a lot."
"She start to puzzle you out yet?" There's an innate fondness there.
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no subject
[WHO'S ON FIRST??]
So- uh, Speakeasy or Lounge?
> action;
Speakeasy.
[ It's easier. Alan's there 5 minutes late--one more sentence, one more quick proofread--but his stride is brisk and confident as he rounds the corner in his brown suit, giving a little half-wave. ]
Hey.
no subject
"Mr Wake. Nice to formally meet you."
no subject
He offers his hand back, also nodding in a Very Manly Way, handshake firm but not too firm. He's not trying to pull anything, but he's genuinely curious about the guy.
"Likewise. You've got Saga Anderson, she's pretty important to me." His lips flicker into a half smile.
"She's also going to get the job done. Congratulations in advance."
no subject
"Yeah." He lifts his glass, acquired shortly after his own arrival. It helps that most of the tables have good sight lines, so he didn't have to jockey for a spot that feels comfortable. Inmate paranoia at least made that easier for everyone. There's a moment of indecision before he drinks more than is mannerly.
"...How'd you meet, the two of you?"
no subject
"I was involved in a case she worked," he says out of the sheer need for simplicity, grabbing the beer he'd ordered like it's a cup of coffee, nursing it. "She saved me. I owe her a lot."
"She start to puzzle you out yet?" There's an innate fondness there.
blows the dust off this
"She's... giving it time. Giving us a bit of time, to get used to each other."