Post by kitriana on Aug 14, 2008 0:59:00 GMT -5
Patricia placed her forefinger and thumb on her temples and pressed lightly, a habit leftover from her younger days whenever she was irritated. Her lawyer sat to her left at the dinner table, and across from her was the prospective buyer of her wares. The lawyer - Tilman Hollings - was the source of her irritation. He'd had not a single bite to eat of the rare steak he'd ordered, nor a single sip of the rather delicious merlot, and the man she was discussing business with had noticed. She smiled tightly, her lips pressed together, and rose to her feet. "Excuse me for a moment, Mister Delaney," she said politely, giving him a slight inclination of her head, before turning, glaring daggers at Tilman as she beckoned for him to follow her.
"What in the world do you think you're doing?" she growled softly, her eyes narrowing into slits. "You're supposed to sit with me, eat the dinner, and tell me if you think it's a good business transaction. Not that I need your help. You're still around because of Malcolm."
The slightly shorter man, looking to be about thirty, with short golden-brown hair, slumped his shoulders and sighed. "But, Pat, it doesn't do anything! It's not like it's particularly sustaining, even raw."
"It doesn't matter, Tilman. Eat it and look happy. You know you'll get fed properly when we get back."
Without waiting for a response, Patricia turned, walked back to her seat, and settled back down, draping her napkin across her lap, smoothing the fine white linen over her deep blue trousers, and making sure that it also protected the lowest part of her cream-colored silk blouse. She smiled another polite smile at Jonas Delaney. "Pardon me for the interruption. My associate has been ill of late, so he doesn't have much of an appetite."
"That's fine, Miss Lawrence. Now, you were telling me about the lenses?" prompted the middle-aged, salt-and-pepper-haired CEO. "Do you use recycled glass, or do you make the glass fresh?"
Tilman took his seat again, glancing toward the woman with an unreadable stare - which she pointedly ignored - and gestured for her to continue. She bit back an aggravated sigh and focused her attention back on Jonas.
"We do both. The lenses for smaller telescopes are made from recycled glass, since they aren't as delicate and don't need as much fine-tuning, so to speak. Lenses meant for larger telescopes, however, we make from scratch, using a mixture of fine sands from all over the world. Crystal and diamond dust are mixed in during the process. We also make lunar and solar filters for telescopes, and will take custom orders for any size you require," she said. "And telescopes aren't the only things we make lenses for. We make them for binoculars, as well, among other things."
"It sounds like you're a very good company to look to for purchase. Well, Miss Lawrence, it has been a lovely dinner. I will have to discuss the specifics with your lawyer and mine at a later date, but I think it might be safe to say that it will be a pleasure doing business with you."
"And yourself, Mister Delaney," she said, smiling as he rose to his feet. "Pardon if we don't rise to see you to the door. I have some more business to discuss with Mister Hollings before we can call it a night."
"That's fine," replied the man, giving her a slight nod. "I'll just see your secretary in the morning to schedule an appointment with Mister Hollings. I look forward to our next meeting."
Patricia said nothing, merely smiling and nodding in response, thinking to herself that their next meeting would never come. It was dangerous to let too many people see her. He would eventually forget her appearance. That was what her proxies were for. Dinners like this required her presence, of course, but the daily routine of the company only needed her touch every now and then. Proxies were perfect for that.
She turned to Tilman, her eyes narrowing again. "I swear, if you ever embarrass me like this again, I'll have your throat and every liter of blood pumping in your veins. Impertinent whelp. You've been told time and again that you should eat at these dinners. I don't care if it does make your stomach hurt. Get used to it. Now, I am going to the powder room. When I return, I want you to be eating like a good little lawyer is supposed to do." She tossed her napkin on the table beside her plate, pushing her chair back as she stood and made her way to the women's restroom, fuming with every step, while the poor lawyer Malcolm had turned for her use quivered at the table she'd left behind her.
"What in the world do you think you're doing?" she growled softly, her eyes narrowing into slits. "You're supposed to sit with me, eat the dinner, and tell me if you think it's a good business transaction. Not that I need your help. You're still around because of Malcolm."
The slightly shorter man, looking to be about thirty, with short golden-brown hair, slumped his shoulders and sighed. "But, Pat, it doesn't do anything! It's not like it's particularly sustaining, even raw."
"It doesn't matter, Tilman. Eat it and look happy. You know you'll get fed properly when we get back."
Without waiting for a response, Patricia turned, walked back to her seat, and settled back down, draping her napkin across her lap, smoothing the fine white linen over her deep blue trousers, and making sure that it also protected the lowest part of her cream-colored silk blouse. She smiled another polite smile at Jonas Delaney. "Pardon me for the interruption. My associate has been ill of late, so he doesn't have much of an appetite."
"That's fine, Miss Lawrence. Now, you were telling me about the lenses?" prompted the middle-aged, salt-and-pepper-haired CEO. "Do you use recycled glass, or do you make the glass fresh?"
Tilman took his seat again, glancing toward the woman with an unreadable stare - which she pointedly ignored - and gestured for her to continue. She bit back an aggravated sigh and focused her attention back on Jonas.
"We do both. The lenses for smaller telescopes are made from recycled glass, since they aren't as delicate and don't need as much fine-tuning, so to speak. Lenses meant for larger telescopes, however, we make from scratch, using a mixture of fine sands from all over the world. Crystal and diamond dust are mixed in during the process. We also make lunar and solar filters for telescopes, and will take custom orders for any size you require," she said. "And telescopes aren't the only things we make lenses for. We make them for binoculars, as well, among other things."
"It sounds like you're a very good company to look to for purchase. Well, Miss Lawrence, it has been a lovely dinner. I will have to discuss the specifics with your lawyer and mine at a later date, but I think it might be safe to say that it will be a pleasure doing business with you."
"And yourself, Mister Delaney," she said, smiling as he rose to his feet. "Pardon if we don't rise to see you to the door. I have some more business to discuss with Mister Hollings before we can call it a night."
"That's fine," replied the man, giving her a slight nod. "I'll just see your secretary in the morning to schedule an appointment with Mister Hollings. I look forward to our next meeting."
Patricia said nothing, merely smiling and nodding in response, thinking to herself that their next meeting would never come. It was dangerous to let too many people see her. He would eventually forget her appearance. That was what her proxies were for. Dinners like this required her presence, of course, but the daily routine of the company only needed her touch every now and then. Proxies were perfect for that.
She turned to Tilman, her eyes narrowing again. "I swear, if you ever embarrass me like this again, I'll have your throat and every liter of blood pumping in your veins. Impertinent whelp. You've been told time and again that you should eat at these dinners. I don't care if it does make your stomach hurt. Get used to it. Now, I am going to the powder room. When I return, I want you to be eating like a good little lawyer is supposed to do." She tossed her napkin on the table beside her plate, pushing her chair back as she stood and made her way to the women's restroom, fuming with every step, while the poor lawyer Malcolm had turned for her use quivered at the table she'd left behind her.