Renard Todd aka Let's pretend Megan isn't a fail (smart_fox) wrote in musingslogs, @ 2011-06-22 22:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | lois lane, lucius fox |
Who: Max and Renard
What: Gifts
When: Um...After he talks to Thomas, before all the party stuff
Where: Renard’s Office, Thomas, Inc
Warnings: Max's inner monologue includes bad words.
Renard thought his conversations with Thomas and Max had gone quite well, given the topics he had wanted to discuss with the former and the nature of the call to the latter. He wondered, not for the first time, if Max would take his gesture the wrong way. Thomas had seemed pleased with his work, which had gone a long way in helping Renard come to terms with his new position. As it were, he was working on adapting the designs for a more specialized use. The one thing he was running up against some road blocks was with the monitoring equipment. He couldn’t quite manipulate the frequencies the way he wanted, so he was attempting to brainstorm some ideas when the knock came at his door.
“Come in,” he called, without looking up from the stack of papers he was jotting notes down on. The only person he had been expecting today was Ms. Main so he was careful to keep his desk somewhat neat and tidy while he lost himself in his work. He was dressed simply in khakis and a white button down shirt, with brown loafers on his feet. The baby monitor system was situated right in the center of his desk, acting as a reference for his notes. The vest was carefully folded on one of the two chairs that were situated in front of his desk, over looking the cityscape. “How are you today, Ms. Main?” he asked in greeting, standing up and holding out his hand for her.
Max’s original reason for going to Thomas, Inc., involved money procurement for the Verisimilitude project, but with that one hold, her reasons for visiting had only to do with Renard. She was, admittedly, curious about the inner workings of Thomas’ business. It was part of his world that she seldom went near and was never included in. Renard reaching out to her had her surprised her for that reason alone. Frankly, she didn’t think Thomas talked to anyone at work about anything that happened at home. If he did talk to this man, then he must be more than a colleague. And anyone who was more than a colleague? Was someone Max wanted to know better.
She’d been careful dressing, which was unlike her, but she felt like she was representing Thomas as soon as she walked through the glass doors of Thomas, Inc. The fog hadn’t started yet, and the sun was still shining when she arrived in a tan skirt, heels and a dress shirt. She had smiled at the secretary, asked where Mr. Brandon was, and tried not to laugh when the woman asked her if she had an appointment. No, she’d told her. Her appointment was with Renard Todd. The secretary had looked at her like she was trying to pull a fast one, and Max was grinning when she walked into Renard’s office.
“I think your secretary doesn’t like me very much,” she said, crossing the office and reaching a hand across the desk. Her handshake was calloused, too strong, lacking ettiquette. Her smile was just as careless and open, and even with the designer clothing it was obvious she wasn’t part of this world. “Thanks for inviting me.”
He recognized her immediately and found that she looked rather out of place in her business outfit in comparison to the photos of her that he had used in reference for her vest. “She’s just not used to someone has lovely as you visiting me,” he replied with a warm smile, shaking her hand. His was a bit more delicate than hers, but his hands were just as calloused, speaking to years of manual labor. “It was my pleasure,” he added, taking a seat and gesturing for her to do the same.
“Are you familiar with the saying, ‘It’s better to ask forgiveness then for permission,’ Ms Main?” he asked, a teasing smile on his lips as he folded his hands on the desk. His gaze dropped to the baby monitors and back to her. “I’m not sure how well it’s worked for you in the past, but Mr. Brandon seemed surprised that someone would invest time in doing something for him without asking or being asked,” he continued, amusement clear in his voice. “I wonder how you would react to someone who you’ve never met doing something perhaps a bit unexpected for you and your daughter.”
The man was almost too nice, and Max took the seat he offered with a quirk of her brow. She crossed her legs at the knees, and she leaned forward as he spoke, nothing lazy about her posture. His mention of forgiveness was a strange one, and it caught her attention immediately. “What are you asking forgiveness for?” she asked, a bit of the reporter in the question, even if it was unintentional, the natural curiosity something she wasn’t very good at hiding.
She sat back, then, a thoughtful movement. “I can see why that would surprise Thomas,” she agreed, giving away nothing with the statement beyond the obvious. “I think I’d ask why,” she said, adding with a smile. “And chances are pretty fucking good I wouldn’t trust the answer.” Because that was true, too. She hadn’t been the most trusting person before crossing the portal Seattle, and the Bat and motherhood had only made her more cautious about who she let close. “But Thomas trusts you, so you have it easier than most.”
Renard was a nice man by nature, and he knew it was not something common in this day and age. He had always had a touch for business, one that made him exceptionally good at his job, but along the way he had found that a healthy dose of compassion would get him a long way. Very rarely did he put forth the time and effort for a personalized project like this, but Thomas Brandon inspired something inside him. The man did so much good for everyone that he deserved something in kind. “For taking liberty, ma’am,” he replied respectfully, gesturing to the monitors on his desk.
“Mr. Brandon does a lot of good for this city, Ms. Main. I’d venture that it leaves very little time for his personal life, and I know how life changing having a daughter can be. When my daughter was born, I brought her to work with me every day. I was at a disadvantage, being a single father. Thankfully, Mr. Brandon doesn’t have that exact disadvantage, but he does have others. I hoped to help him, and you, with that change.” Renard handed her one of the monitors. “These will have a constant audio feed from the main line into the two receivers. They are virtually unhackable; I’ve tested them against every hacking program I know. I’m working on creating a less cumbersome receiver for yourself and Mr. Brandon, but until then, these will have to do,” he explained warmly.
His statement about Thomas and the good he did for the city didn’t go unnoticed, and Max wondered if the man was talking about the business, the contracts and the charities; she had a feeling he wasn’t.
“Max, please,” she corrected. “I’m not exactly the ma’am or Ms. Main type,” she added with a smile, taking the monitor in her hand and turning it over in her palm. She tended not to worry as much as Thomas, she knew. She trusted Alina, and she trusted the security Thomas had in Aubade. It was one of the reasons the incident with Fawkes had been so fucking jarring. She hadn’t considered any sort of monitoring device for the baby, despite the fact that both she and Thomas were gone ten hours out of the day. She looked up at him, and she gave him a look that was warmer than any prior. “I bet Thomas loved this,” she said. “I think it’s pretty great, too. Thanks.”
Renard was very careful with the secrets he kept and although he was fairly certain she knew exactly what he was talking about, he could just as easily been talking about something else. “Max, then,” he replied with a nod of his head, still smiling. She wasn’t yelling at him, which was a plus. He hadn’t quite expected yelling, but the warm look she gave him was a pleasant surprise. “He was intrigued more so than anything,” he added with a slight smile.
“It was my pleasure, but that was Amanda’s, actually. I made something a bit more practical for you,” Renard said warmly, nodding his head toward the vest occupying the opposite chair. “With Mr. Brandon being such a high profile individual and yourself as a rather outspoken journalist, I thought you might benefit from a little added protection.” The vest itself was lighter than one might expect, but the metal work of the zipper and chest plate were easily noticeable to anyone who picked it up. “The sizing should be accurate, and I assumed black would be what you’d like, but that is easily changeable.”
Max had seen a lot of vests in her life, and there was little doubt that she knew exactly what she was doing when she picked it up. She sought out the weak spots, weighted it against her forearm, checked angles and how it would handle a direct hit. All things a reporter wouldn’t know to worry with. The only thing she didn’t pay attention to was the color. She had vests from home, but the lightest one she’d lost during the run in with the Mask Killer, and the strongest had been lost when Thomas was in the pit. Her backup had been given to Arakkis, and she was definitely in the market for a replacement. Without military contacts on this side, however, she hadn’t found anything she liked well enough. This, this was nice.
She looked up at him, and her grin widened. “Now, how’d you know the way to my heart was with armor?” she asked, all joking warmth around her eyes and at the corner of her mouth. Yeah, definitely not just a reporter.
He watched her carefully as she looked over the vest, noting how she tested the weight and looked for weaknesses. She was far too familiar with this kind of equipment for a simple reporter, and given her relationship with Thomas, Renard guessed that they were in the same line of work. That little connect the dots had him thinking. “Ms. Main, Max,” he corrected himself, though he spoke rather excitedly, “Would you mind coming with me? I’d like to show you a few things, if you have time to spare?”
Renard wanted to take her to the R&D floor and show her some of the projects in development for Thomas’ personal use. He had a feeling she would be interested in them, and it would be a nice segue into offering to provide her with more equipment, perhaps more personalized.
Max looked up from the vest when his tone changed to one that was more excited, and her gaze sharpened intelligently. “Sure,” she said, “lead the way.” She put the vest on the desk beside the monitor, which she ran her fingertips over without thinking. She was out a lot lately, too many killings in Seattle, and it would be nice to be able to check on things from the truck. She looked up at him, and she nodded toward the door. “Lead the way,” she said, knowing she wasn’t going to get a tour of the boardroom. Whatever he was going to show her, it had to do with that vest, and that made her very, very interested. She had no idea how long Thomas had known this man, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he was responsible for any of his gear. She kept her questions to herself, and she moved toward the door.
Renard was always looking for ways he could give back to Thomas and Thomas, Inc. He already had a number of things he was working on for Thomas, the least of which being the projects he was presenting to Max today. If he could even do just one more thing, it would be to ensure that his family was safe. Max didn't strike him as a stay at home mother, and she certainly didn't strike him as your typical reporter. Some of the projects he worked on for Thomas could be adapted for her as well. He stood and walked around his desk, holding out his arm for her before leading her off to the 7th floor.