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xp_logs2009-06-29 06:20 am
x-cypher.livejournal.com) wrote in xp_logs2009-06-29 06:20 am
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AK/DM: Mingling
Doug mingles with some of the guests at the Malik Dubai, and runs into an unexpectedly familiar (and annoying) face.
It was interesting, the triple sort of perspective Doug had as he observed the small crowd mingling at the automated open bar and buffet at the Malik Dubai hotel. One part of his mind observed through the lens of Doug Ramsey, tech geek. Normally at an opening this swanky, uniformed waiters would be subtly moving throughout the crowd. But this new heavily automated hotel was being billed as the ultimate in convenience, so the reception was designed to almost show how unnecessary those sorts of people could be. He had the perverse impulse to walk up to the drink service machine and order "Tea, Earl Grey, hot."
Another part of him observed the mingling public with the instant recall Pete and Remy had been working to instill in Cypher, spy-in-training. There were a number of prominent foreign dignitaries at the event, and he kept an eye on them and their entourages out of what was now habit.
The last piece was Doug Ramsey, White Knight of the Hellfire Club. Captains of industry were likely wheeling and dealing over martinis, and Emma would probably be disappointed in him if he didn't come back with some embarrassing tidbit about someone.
It was a wonder he could do any thinking with those three different perspectives in his head, but the cataloguing and compartmentalization was becoming almost second nature at this point. So he sipped at his champagne and settled back to watch the happenings around him.
Not every guest at the Malik Dubai was the high-rolling black-tie type, however. One young man was loading up a plate with as many hors d'ouevres that he could fit, and trying to balance a wine glass full of cola in his other hand at the same time.
The entire arrangement almost wound up being flung across the buffet room floor as he backed into Doug. The young man turned, carefully bobbling his plate, the loud red print of his "ZERG RUSH KEKEKE 2009" shirt clashing horribly with the other attendees as he swore in English - another rarity setting him apart.
"Way to be a roadblock, asshole, why don't you just...?"
Two pairs of eyes met and immediately narrowed in hostile recognition as Quentin Quire stepped back, holding his plate close to his chest. "Ramsey. What the fuck are you doing here?"
"Quire." Doug's lips curled back in a mirthless grin. A dozen easy rejoinders popped into his head. There was the obvious 'what the fuck are -you- doing here?', the more aggressive 'so, tried to date rape anyone recently?', or the more subtle 'I was invited' with a superior glare. But as much as Quentin Quire rubbed him the complete wrong way, it was probably impolite to assume off the cuff that work with the Professor on ethics hadn't done anything to the irritating telepath. So he settled for none of the above and merely said "Socializing." curtly with a wry salute with his glass.
"Oh." Quentin's body language was immediately defensive, trying to bite back a visceral fear response. "That mutant think tank you work for now, I suppose. Don't act so surprised, it's easy to find if someone Bings your name. Someone buy you a degree to go with it?"
A smirk made its way onto the telepath's face, his posture becoming more cocky and arrogant.
Doug wasn't surprised at all. It wasn't as though his public identity was difficult to find, and somehow, he didn't find it hard to believe that Quentin still held enough of a grudge over things to try and find him. "I didn't know you cared so much, Quentin," he replied sarcastically. He conspicuously did not ask the other man what he'd been up to since their last confrontation, the implication being that he did not care half as much as the other man.
Quire put on an offended face, obviously exaggerating the expression to hide anger and contempt. "But gosh! I thought we were all supposed to be a big happy mutant family, like your Professor Xavier says. Why all the hating?"
He tried to push Doug aside with a shoulder as he walked by, but only resulted in spilling most of his cola on the floor. "Get the fuck out of my way, Ramsey. I've got money to actually earn."
"Earn?" Doug asked sharply as Quentin bounced off of him. "I certainly hope that you're earning it, and not resorting to...old habits." It was perhaps an unfair assumption, but the other man had gotten under his skin a bit with his digs. Doug shifted aside to let Quentin pass, but couldn't resist a parting jab of his own. "I'll tell Marie-Ange you said hello," he murmured.
"Hey, fuck you and your attitude, Ramsey," Quentin blurted, drawing the attention of a few of the other guests. "You and I both know that Big Daddy Xavier would come down on me the moment I stepped out of line. But I don't have to use every advantage I've got. Online poker, if you must know. I won a feeder tournament for the Marik Dubai Invitational in two days. Completely legit."
He spread his arms as he walked by Doug, turning to smirk once more. "If you don't believe me, I'm sure your 'leet haxxor skillz' can check up on me. And if you want to test me, I've got no problem schooling your trust fund ass."
"I prefer the real thing," Doug replied with an answering smirk. "Any time you want to sit down to the big kids' table, just let me know." He turned dismissively. "Nice seeing you, Quentin," he said insincerely in dismissal.
A muttered "fuckoff" was all the response Doug got as Quentin rushed out of the room.
It was interesting, the triple sort of perspective Doug had as he observed the small crowd mingling at the automated open bar and buffet at the Malik Dubai hotel. One part of his mind observed through the lens of Doug Ramsey, tech geek. Normally at an opening this swanky, uniformed waiters would be subtly moving throughout the crowd. But this new heavily automated hotel was being billed as the ultimate in convenience, so the reception was designed to almost show how unnecessary those sorts of people could be. He had the perverse impulse to walk up to the drink service machine and order "Tea, Earl Grey, hot."
Another part of him observed the mingling public with the instant recall Pete and Remy had been working to instill in Cypher, spy-in-training. There were a number of prominent foreign dignitaries at the event, and he kept an eye on them and their entourages out of what was now habit.
The last piece was Doug Ramsey, White Knight of the Hellfire Club. Captains of industry were likely wheeling and dealing over martinis, and Emma would probably be disappointed in him if he didn't come back with some embarrassing tidbit about someone.
It was a wonder he could do any thinking with those three different perspectives in his head, but the cataloguing and compartmentalization was becoming almost second nature at this point. So he sipped at his champagne and settled back to watch the happenings around him.
Not every guest at the Malik Dubai was the high-rolling black-tie type, however. One young man was loading up a plate with as many hors d'ouevres that he could fit, and trying to balance a wine glass full of cola in his other hand at the same time.
The entire arrangement almost wound up being flung across the buffet room floor as he backed into Doug. The young man turned, carefully bobbling his plate, the loud red print of his "ZERG RUSH KEKEKE 2009" shirt clashing horribly with the other attendees as he swore in English - another rarity setting him apart.
"Way to be a roadblock, asshole, why don't you just...?"
Two pairs of eyes met and immediately narrowed in hostile recognition as Quentin Quire stepped back, holding his plate close to his chest. "Ramsey. What the fuck are you doing here?"
"Quire." Doug's lips curled back in a mirthless grin. A dozen easy rejoinders popped into his head. There was the obvious 'what the fuck are -you- doing here?', the more aggressive 'so, tried to date rape anyone recently?', or the more subtle 'I was invited' with a superior glare. But as much as Quentin Quire rubbed him the complete wrong way, it was probably impolite to assume off the cuff that work with the Professor on ethics hadn't done anything to the irritating telepath. So he settled for none of the above and merely said "Socializing." curtly with a wry salute with his glass.
"Oh." Quentin's body language was immediately defensive, trying to bite back a visceral fear response. "That mutant think tank you work for now, I suppose. Don't act so surprised, it's easy to find if someone Bings your name. Someone buy you a degree to go with it?"
A smirk made its way onto the telepath's face, his posture becoming more cocky and arrogant.
Doug wasn't surprised at all. It wasn't as though his public identity was difficult to find, and somehow, he didn't find it hard to believe that Quentin still held enough of a grudge over things to try and find him. "I didn't know you cared so much, Quentin," he replied sarcastically. He conspicuously did not ask the other man what he'd been up to since their last confrontation, the implication being that he did not care half as much as the other man.
Quire put on an offended face, obviously exaggerating the expression to hide anger and contempt. "But gosh! I thought we were all supposed to be a big happy mutant family, like your Professor Xavier says. Why all the hating?"
He tried to push Doug aside with a shoulder as he walked by, but only resulted in spilling most of his cola on the floor. "Get the fuck out of my way, Ramsey. I've got money to actually earn."
"Earn?" Doug asked sharply as Quentin bounced off of him. "I certainly hope that you're earning it, and not resorting to...old habits." It was perhaps an unfair assumption, but the other man had gotten under his skin a bit with his digs. Doug shifted aside to let Quentin pass, but couldn't resist a parting jab of his own. "I'll tell Marie-Ange you said hello," he murmured.
"Hey, fuck you and your attitude, Ramsey," Quentin blurted, drawing the attention of a few of the other guests. "You and I both know that Big Daddy Xavier would come down on me the moment I stepped out of line. But I don't have to use every advantage I've got. Online poker, if you must know. I won a feeder tournament for the Marik Dubai Invitational in two days. Completely legit."
He spread his arms as he walked by Doug, turning to smirk once more. "If you don't believe me, I'm sure your 'leet haxxor skillz' can check up on me. And if you want to test me, I've got no problem schooling your trust fund ass."
"I prefer the real thing," Doug replied with an answering smirk. "Any time you want to sit down to the big kids' table, just let me know." He turned dismissively. "Nice seeing you, Quentin," he said insincerely in dismissal.
A muttered "fuckoff" was all the response Doug got as Quentin rushed out of the room.