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31_days2006-08-04 03:42 pm
mythicbeast.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2006-08-04 03:42 pm
[aug.4][FFX-2] A Professional Acquaintance
Title: A Professional Acquaintance [Part 1/?]
Day/Theme: August 4: Tell him who looks for heaven to run along to hell.
Series: Final Fantasy X-2
Character/Pairing: Nooj, Rin
Rating: G
Summary: Rin, Nooj, and the nature of bargains.
There are names for what they have between them. Rin, typically enough, chooses to summarize their relationship in the vaguest and most inadequate phrase he could possibly use: a professional acquaintance.
Nooj thinks he knows a better word for it: extortion.
"How much is it going to to cost us for replacement parts?" Up to this point, Nooj thinks he's done an admirable job of holding his mounting irritation in check, distracting his hands with light deskwork instead of strangling the Travel Agency employee across the table.
Nooj finds himself running out of things for his hands to do, and a rapidly-shortening list of reasons why he shouldn't simply storm up to the Highroad himself and demand an explanation (not to mention a fee reduction) from its mealy-mouthed founder. Instead, the mevyn tightens his lips and sets his pen to paper, intending to scrawl off his signature on a recruit's request for home leave.
The agent-- Bikke, as he's introduced himself-- chooses this moment to clear his throat, and read Rin's offer out one more time.
Despite his efforts to remain relatively calm, Nooj guesses his homicidal inclinations must be showing-- although he remains pokerfaced, the Al Bhed's beginning to squirm in his seat, unhappy about having to be the middleman between his eccentric boss and equally eccentric customer.
Then again, the fact that Nooj's pen has just punched straight through the paper and into the woodwork might be a factor behind the hapless agent's sudden, barely-detectable agitation. Nooj has to remind himself that he isn't generally in the habit of projecting his ill temper on the people who aren't the direct cause of it. Bikke seems to sense the painstakingly executed shift in the mevyn's mood, because his shoulders slump-- a silent, universal gesture of profound relief, if there ever was one.
Nooj, however, isn't about to let Bikke off the hook.
"Kindly inform your employer," he says, tossing the ruined pen into the garbage bin, "That the Youth League has better things to spend their money on than overpriced scrap metal." Nooj's lip curls, but even as he says it, he knows the words are false. If Rin charges exorbitant prices, it's because he has very good reason to, and he's certainly more than capable of providing the best machina service in Spira. From what Nooj has seen of the Al Bhed, he is not a dabbler in the art of engineering or electricity, but he knows enough about the business to offer a price that suits the merchandise.
Still, appearances matter: common sense and common pride tell him that he's a fool if he takes Rin's offer at face value. In truth, it's just a small way of rebelling against the inevitable-- if he wants quality, Rin's his best bet for leagues around-- and if he gets a better deal out of being belligerent, so much the better.
"At the price he's asking, he should have the courtesy to throw in basic maintenance-- for the next ten years, at least." He tacks the challenge on before he can think about what he's saying, and by the time he blinks, it's too late to take it back.
Bikke has retreated even further from Nooj's desk, eyebrows lifted in the uniquely Al Bhed way of communicating polite disbelief. That, of course, is the diplomatic way of putting it. Nooj is of the opinion that the particular expression is better described as the look one gives a man in imminent danger of inviting the heavens to strike him down.
The thought abruptly exhausts him. With a sharp jerk of his chin at the tent flap's direction, Nooj dismisses the Al Bhed.
Bikke looks uncertain whether to be relieved that he no longer has to deal with Nooj's testy mood, or worried about Rin's reaction to the mevyn's scorn. He seems to decide that he'll take what he's been given, and flees the tent at a speed just shy of unacceptable. Moments later, the sound of a hover engine kicking into gear follows, its steady whine fading into the distance.
Knuckling his brow with his flesh hand, Nooj sighs. If Rin's tactics for intimidating would-be negotiatiors haven't changed, he'll know by tomorrow how Rin chooses to respond to his decidedly unfavorable remarks. Until then, there's nothing he can do but wait. Nooj reaches for a fresh pen to complete signing the ruined form, squeezing his initials in above the undamaged portion of the paper.
At least, he tells himself, he can make sure someone's going to go and have a good time, even if he isn't.
Day/Theme: August 4: Tell him who looks for heaven to run along to hell.
Series: Final Fantasy X-2
Character/Pairing: Nooj, Rin
Rating: G
Summary: Rin, Nooj, and the nature of bargains.
There are names for what they have between them. Rin, typically enough, chooses to summarize their relationship in the vaguest and most inadequate phrase he could possibly use: a professional acquaintance.
Nooj thinks he knows a better word for it: extortion.
"How much is it going to to cost us for replacement parts?" Up to this point, Nooj thinks he's done an admirable job of holding his mounting irritation in check, distracting his hands with light deskwork instead of strangling the Travel Agency employee across the table.
Nooj finds himself running out of things for his hands to do, and a rapidly-shortening list of reasons why he shouldn't simply storm up to the Highroad himself and demand an explanation (not to mention a fee reduction) from its mealy-mouthed founder. Instead, the mevyn tightens his lips and sets his pen to paper, intending to scrawl off his signature on a recruit's request for home leave.
The agent-- Bikke, as he's introduced himself-- chooses this moment to clear his throat, and read Rin's offer out one more time.
Despite his efforts to remain relatively calm, Nooj guesses his homicidal inclinations must be showing-- although he remains pokerfaced, the Al Bhed's beginning to squirm in his seat, unhappy about having to be the middleman between his eccentric boss and equally eccentric customer.
Then again, the fact that Nooj's pen has just punched straight through the paper and into the woodwork might be a factor behind the hapless agent's sudden, barely-detectable agitation. Nooj has to remind himself that he isn't generally in the habit of projecting his ill temper on the people who aren't the direct cause of it. Bikke seems to sense the painstakingly executed shift in the mevyn's mood, because his shoulders slump-- a silent, universal gesture of profound relief, if there ever was one.
Nooj, however, isn't about to let Bikke off the hook.
"Kindly inform your employer," he says, tossing the ruined pen into the garbage bin, "That the Youth League has better things to spend their money on than overpriced scrap metal." Nooj's lip curls, but even as he says it, he knows the words are false. If Rin charges exorbitant prices, it's because he has very good reason to, and he's certainly more than capable of providing the best machina service in Spira. From what Nooj has seen of the Al Bhed, he is not a dabbler in the art of engineering or electricity, but he knows enough about the business to offer a price that suits the merchandise.
Still, appearances matter: common sense and common pride tell him that he's a fool if he takes Rin's offer at face value. In truth, it's just a small way of rebelling against the inevitable-- if he wants quality, Rin's his best bet for leagues around-- and if he gets a better deal out of being belligerent, so much the better.
"At the price he's asking, he should have the courtesy to throw in basic maintenance-- for the next ten years, at least." He tacks the challenge on before he can think about what he's saying, and by the time he blinks, it's too late to take it back.
Bikke has retreated even further from Nooj's desk, eyebrows lifted in the uniquely Al Bhed way of communicating polite disbelief. That, of course, is the diplomatic way of putting it. Nooj is of the opinion that the particular expression is better described as the look one gives a man in imminent danger of inviting the heavens to strike him down.
The thought abruptly exhausts him. With a sharp jerk of his chin at the tent flap's direction, Nooj dismisses the Al Bhed.
Bikke looks uncertain whether to be relieved that he no longer has to deal with Nooj's testy mood, or worried about Rin's reaction to the mevyn's scorn. He seems to decide that he'll take what he's been given, and flees the tent at a speed just shy of unacceptable. Moments later, the sound of a hover engine kicking into gear follows, its steady whine fading into the distance.
Knuckling his brow with his flesh hand, Nooj sighs. If Rin's tactics for intimidating would-be negotiatiors haven't changed, he'll know by tomorrow how Rin chooses to respond to his decidedly unfavorable remarks. Until then, there's nothing he can do but wait. Nooj reaches for a fresh pen to complete signing the ruined form, squeezing his initials in above the undamaged portion of the paper.
At least, he tells himself, he can make sure someone's going to go and have a good time, even if he isn't.