Irina Derevko (derevko) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2014-01-09 00:35:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, bryce larkin, irina derevko |
Who: Bryce Larkin and Irina Derevko
What: Sizing each other up
When: 1/4
Where: a hotel bar near Bryce's workplace
Rating: PG
Status: Complete
It was mid-afternoon, and the bar of the Adler Hotel was doing a brisk business. It generally filled to almost capacity at lunchtime, either with businessmen and their clients, guests from the hotel, or passersby intent on sampling the extensive bar. The latter was Irina’s preference for now, icy fingers trying to grip the shot glass a bit more calmly than she wanted to. She would never show temper to a room of strangers - that would never do - but her jaw was tight and her eyes were as cold as the vodka. That муда́к Anton was going to regret crossing her. It was as simple as that. There were plenty of people who owed her, and plenty of people who remembered her father well. She could still trade on that.
Bryce Larkin would have argued if anyone accused him of slipping off to the bar to escape the representative of the CEO of SFD Technologies. Though that would have mainly been to keep his reputation for being endlessly patient and charming intact. The fact was that the older man who had appeared at his office the day before was driving him a little nuts. Officially he was there to see how the new branch was getting on, unofficially the man was there to question Bryce and let him know he was still being watched even in California. Bryce himself was in the strange position of being too dangerous to let go but was also, according to the ‘big boys’, too untrustworthy to keep. He almost found it amusing, especially as he had been so loyal that he had sacrificed his connections to the two people he loved more than anything to hang onto his job and had to be talked out of sacrificing himself to keep the name of the company out of the news.
Of course even his loyalty only went so far. Being constantly told to ‘watch yourself’ was beginning to grow very old and so with little remorse he lost the representative in the lobby and took himself to the bar for a little liquid fortification. Luckily he found himself a spot at the bar that allowed him to keep his back to the door, it wasn’t a perfect hiding spot but it would buy him enough time to drink the whiskey neat he ordered.
As soon as she heard the poor unfortunate sit on the stool next to her, Irina turned with eyes approaching murderous. However, the proverbial baby blues that greeted her in reply were surprising, and welcome. She remembered this man from the Valarnet, and even if nothing happened beyond a twenty-minute distraction, it was a necessary twenty-minute distraction. When she was calmer, she’d find a way to get that disk from Anton and make him pay for his going back on the deal.
She’d always been told that she could stop on a dime. “Mister Larkin, is it? What a coincidence. I don’t know if you remember me from the computer network; my name is Irina Derevko.” There was no harm in giving her right name; she’d never been exposed in either of her fields, at least not to scrutiny that might result in her name becoming, as they said, mud.
Of course the woman at the bar knew him. At this point he wouldn’t have been surprised if he picked a random person from a crowd and they would be able to tell him his own name and former occupation. Not that he was the paranoid type, in fact he outwardly at least seemed to be taking it all in stride, but, well it was a difficult thing to maintain when everyone seemed to be after him or against him. Damn his slip-up in Seattle, he missed his anonymity, especially with others who implied that they had too worked in the same ‘line’ as he had. He definitely remembered Irina, had brought her up to Chuck, told him to be careful, he hadn’t expected to see her in person which was clearly a lack of foresight on his part.
He turned one of his more dazzling smiles on her, showing no signs of just what was going on behind those baby blues. “Irina, I certainly do remember you.” how could he not, after all, he had lost about a night’s worth of sleep after speaking to her the first time and she revealed that she knew of him. He had denied knowing what she was talking about of course but he had at the time and again now doubted that she believed him. “What a pleasure to meet you face to face. You’re well, I trust?”
He covered incredibly well, but there had been less than half a second of surprise - to see her there, or to see her at all? Irina just smiled. “Well enough. Thinking of filing a lawsuit, but otherwise well enough.” There had to be some good explanation for the remnants of pique in her eyes and hands. “I missed out on an extremely lucrative business deal because the holder of what I need is stuck in the 1960s. Told me straight to my face that he didn’t hire Russkie bitches.” That story was actually true; it just hadn’t happened recently. She hadn’t wept any tears when she’d heard word that he’d crossed an old vor, Russian thief royalty, and wound up in pieces.
Still, she laughed, trying actively to not appear malevolent. “It’s his loss, I suppose. I would have thought this business would grow less sexist over time. What about you, Mr. Larkin? Just stealing a moment before getting back to work?” He’d spun some story about managing a computer company, but she was more sure than ever that he was in her field. Well. Her legitimate field. Industrial spying was perfectly legal if done properly. Still. One did have a tendency to remember blue eyes like that.
“Hopefully you are finding that he is not the norm, though with the gender pay gap still what it is in this industry I suppose I should not be surprised that there are still a few uneducated relics hanging about. Would it help if I apologized on behalf of the whole of my gender? I am not sure if I ought to also try to apologize for my countrymen, that could take all day.” That last part may have been a joke, that was easy enough to hear in his tone, but he was genuinely sympathetic. No one deserved to be spoken to in such a way, not even his prick of a secretary.
“Stealing a moment? Hardly what I would call it, I am merely buying the moment a drink. Any resemblance it may have to hiding from any work I may need to do or hiding from certain coworkers is purely coincidental.” Bryce had lad always led with his charm, mostly his easy and playful sense of humor coupled with his looks. It was a technique that had served him well in the past, it did wonders with the unprepared and clued him in to those who were truly experienced with the ‘game’. For the most part it was still very much a game to him, even if his life seemingly belonged to SFD Tech now. He liked to keep his skilled honed, he never knew when they would come in handy. “Could I get you something as well, Ms. Derevko?”
Irina did find him charming; she was just (usually) capable of keeping her feet on the ground when it came to men. Even men with eyes like Bryce Larkin’s. “Thank you, but I’ve got mine.” She held up the shot glass, indeed, figuring she ought to drain it before the vodka warmed. She set it down on the bar briefly, the glass just barely thwacking against the cheap bartop before its contents were emptied down Irina’s throat. She was Russian. Straight vodka was how they kept warm in winter.
That done, she smiled at him. “I have no doubt that men of your age are a bit more enlightened, and I do mean that.” Irina said. “It isn’t just flattery. Younger men are trained better - you see all you have as assets, and use them accordingly. I’ve no doubt that if you had a candidate for a position under you, you might pick the lady, if she was the best qualified. That’s all anyone can ask, really.” Innuendo? Maybe. Fishing for information? Maybe. She’d have sworn that she knew his name - that he’d been bandied about as a possible mole in more than a few organizations she’d dealt with - but he was very good at hiding his antecedents. She didn’t have the contacts in California yet to dig him up, either.
Bryce watched her down the vodka doing his best not to say any of the many Russian jokes that popped into his head. He couldn’t speak to others of his generation but Bryce himself would admit to being well trained, he wouldn’t have gotten so far in his line of work, or rather as far as he had managed, without such training and general respect for anyone he encountered. He liked to think of himself as a decent person anyway, maybe not honest but incredibly loyal when it counted.
“I do my best to pay attention to talent, no matter the race, gender, age or creed. I would hardly be a good manager if I did not have the right people under me, after all.” He was being about as subtle with his words as she was but he really didn’t mind. He hadn’t had a chance to really enjoy himself or the normal games since his cover had been blown, and just when he thought things would be better Sarah had walked back into his life and set it spinning once more. It was good to put her and the fellow from his bosses, who likely was looking for him now, out of his mind for a while. And if it included the chance to talk with an incredibly attractive and charming woman, all the better.
“I admit, I’ve never held a job of that nature. I genuinely think it must be difficult.” Irina turned to face him now that her shot was gone, trying to display an open body posture. Body language did work on most men. She didn’t think she ought to act the featherbrain, though. Not with this one. “I did some highly irregular work when I was young, I admit. In Russia, there was plenty of that to go around. But now I just work a corporate job, and yet I’ve never been in the position of having to fit people into a team. I either work alone, or I trust others to work alone.” She couldn’t help but smile a little. “I find the team ethos overrated. Maybe because I’m not American. But working in teams for everything often means, at least in my opinion, that there’s too many cooks in the proverbial kitchen.” She preferred one-on-one interactions, both in work and in her social life. “Or maybe I’m just a control freak.”
“I’ll admit, I’m more used to working alone.” he paused to take a drink, eyes lingering on her for a moment over the rim of his cup. He could have attempted to flatter her by saying she must have meant younger instead of just young, but he knew it was patronizing. He hadn’t even hit thirty yet even though it was looming closer and closer all the time, he never appreciated being called young. Usually when someone called him that they were being dismissive, like his relative youth meant he was inexperienced and unprepared. It brought him no end of secret pleasure that those that usually called him such were the people who ran the corporations he spied and stole from. “Management is a relatively recent career move on my part. I like to think that I can trust my team to work on their own, even come up with new and exciting ideas from time to time, though sometimes I do find myself needing to get more hands on.”
She rather appreciated that he didn’t patronize her, actually. And of course he was used to working alone. An industrial spy didn’t exactly have a Scooby Doo gang waiting in a surveillance van outside. Irina ordered one more shot, figuring she’d have one for the road before going to figure out a way to deal with Anton. “Let me guess,” she said, “you have underlings who think you’re too young for the role, never mind that they’re younger? I seem to recall you mentioning an impudent secretary?” It was an old fashioned word, maybe, but she’d always liked the sound of it. Impudent meant rudeness, basically, but it also meant immodesty. English had so many different nuances.
Her shot arrived, and she risked a bit of personal input. “Then again, there’s a lot to be said for someone with wit. The trick is knowing where to draw the line between sass and impertinence.” She liked a bit of sass. She got the feeling he was pretending to be very boring.
There was something about a person with an extensive vocabulary that Bryce found nearly irresistible. And it had gotten him into trouble on more than one occasion, luckily he had been a little more guarded these days otherwise he could have very well given up more than he intended. As charming as she was he needed to bore her, to think that he wasn’t the Bryce Larkin that a few people in their industry had been going on about. He simply had to pretend to be as harmless as his bosses wanted him to be, maybe not so easy when he had a face that people tended to remember and be attracted to, but it was a valiant effort on his part at misdirection.
“Underlings and superiors alike,” he admitted. “But I also like to think my record speaks for itself, I would not be in charge if someone thought I lacked the ability. And as for my secretary, well,” he smirked with a shrug. “He can and will be trained or he will be let go. If he is let go then I will simply have to find someone else to make miserable with my sad attempts at witty banter and purposefully obtuse coffee orders. Perhaps the next one will not be so quick to call me an old man.”
“I would hate to hear his opinion of me, if he thinks you are old.” Irina laughed. “A Russian woman over forty? I’m sure he would hand me a babushka, the head scarf?” She mimed having one tied over her head. “You do have an advantage, though, in looking like you do. Someone who is charming and attractive” - no harm in saying that; surely the man had looked in a mirror lately - “is often seen as no threat, that they only got their position due to looks or charm or a willingness to be controlled. I don’t believe that’s true of you. And I’m rather good at reading people.” She said it simply, with no pregnant pause or look in his eyes. This wasn’t a spy film; it was just a conversation. Though so far, it was an enjoyable one. She did appreciate people capable of matching wits, and she damned near bought his inoffensive pose - almost conceded that she’d made a mistake - but that smirk was too self-satisfied to be entirely legitimate. He was very, very good.
Out loud she asked, “How does one make purposefully obtuse coffee orders, by the way?” The idea was amusing.
How much fun they could have had if he hadn’t been so serious about protecting himself and his employers. It had almost come as a relief to him when he had been discovered for what he was, he could have normal interactions with anyone he chose to, but after a while he had started to miss the intrigue and excitement. Sometimes he even missed all the grunt work he had to do on his own, especially these days when the division practically ran itself. “I believe he is at least smart enough to not say it aloud but I’m sure he would probably think about it. Though if he ever offers you one I would take it. He knits and apparently is pretty good at it. Could come in handy when the weather turns unpleasant.”
Bryce had to control that urge to give her the sort of smile and look that would instantly give him away when she said she was good at reading people. He wasn’t so bad at it either, she had to be close, he could feel the hook dangling under his nose but he wasn’t going to bite. Instead of commenting he gave her a moderately bashful look, suggesting he was quite taken with her compliments, “Thank you, I think.”
He paused a moment to remember the last order he had sent the younger man after, “A grande, extra hot soy but no sleeve and I don’t want to burn my hands, extra foam but I want it at the bottom of the cup. Split shot with a half squirt of sugar-free vanilla and then a half squirt of regular vanilla but I don’t want them together. Half a packet of splenda and half a packet of equal, again separated, one at the bottom and one at the top. I want it in a venti cup and the rest of it needs to be filled with whipped cream and then drizzled with chocolate and caramel, I won’t drink it if the chocolate and caramel touch at all. I also need that in about fifteen minutes or you’re fired and you’re not allowed to charge it to the company.” He had to polish off the last of his whiskey after saying all that, smirking at her after. “Some of his hatred is understandable.”
Irina laughed, shaking her head. “You are diabolical, Bryce. Excuse me; Mr. Larkin. Would you prefer your surname? I didn’t mean to be impolite.” She held up her shot. “За вас!” She touched it on the bar top again before draining it. The clock struck the hour, and she noticed the working stiffs begin to rise, or rummage for wallets and start discussing how to split their bills. “The clock tells me that I should probably be going shortly. But I do promise that should I ever meet your secretary, I will slap him if he hasn’t learned his place.”
“Bryce is fine.” he told her with an easy smile. It suited his young, attractive face far better than his surname. Aside from that it tended to put people at ease with him, a tool which had been invaluable when he was still on the job. A job that he had given everything for and was still feeling the loss of every morning when he went into the office and saw his real name on the door. But its ending had been inevitable, just as the ending of this delightful little break in his day. He could only hope he had succeeded in proving himself mostly harmless and ordinary in her eyes and that she wasn’t leaving to use whatever information he might have accidently slipped her to help dig up the truth about him. Being exposed again would have been too great an embarrassment for him to get over any time soon. “And I suggest you keep your hand at the ready should you have the misfortune of meeting him, I do not hold high hopes.”
He rose when she mentioned leaving, it being the polite thing even if it did all seem a little out-dated. Too many evening functions at the country club when he was growing up for that sort of thing to have been beaten out of him entirely. He extended a hand, “But in any case it was a pleasure to speak to you again, Irina. I am already looking forward to the next time we cross paths.”
“It’s always very interesting talking to you, Bryce.” Irina meant that in more than one way. He was fascinating to watch and listen to, as well as curious, and she did, obviously, appreciate the view. Still, she wanted to shock him. People reacted immediately when they were shocked. Also, she liked getting the last word. So she told him, “We really should have meaningless sex sometime,” before setting her money on the bar and heading for the coat check.
She had certainly accomplished her goal because after the words left her mouth Bryce stood absolutely still for a moment, eyebrows raised in shock. He never lacked for attention or even come-ons when he went out, especially these days when he was able to dress up his suits with a well cut jacket and tasteful scarf, but such things ever came from someone like Irina. Women in general were more subtle, older women subtler still until they tried to slip a hand onto his backside, but older women as attractive and that at least appeared to be as sophisticated as Irina, well they never mentioned casual sex so casually.
Of course after a second or two of stunned silence he realized what she had done. It was very clever, clever enough that he wanted to praise her efforts with a knowing smile or a comment of admiration. But that would have further implied that Bryce Larkin wasn’t just the pretty face he pretended to be so he could do nothing but stay the course. The edges of his lips twitched, showing that he wanted to smile but didn’t allow himself, and he slowly shook his head as he paid for his own drink. Yes, he most certainly had to see Irina again.