Ages ago, at a much different time and a much different place, Mars and some of his friends had joked about how people who wore scrubs or lab coats out in the street were people who wanted everyone to know – or to at least think – they were doctors. Bragging rights, am I right?
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This is exactly what he thought of when first seeing Rory McLain.
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And it is thanks to this thought that a slight but amused smirk dances at his lips, inevitably finding himself wondering if this man is one of those people or if he actually found himself too busy to be bothered with changing into something more presentable for their meeting. Maybe it was his own way of putting on appearances. Maybe he thinks that the money will come easier if he makes the people in charge of approving donations think that he’s such a hardworking doctor.
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Needless to say, Mars is not one to easily trust people, and for better or for worse, he always second-guesses their intentions.
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”Ah… Right. The Lilycove General Hospital. How have things been going there? I imagine it must be really busy, with Lilycove being such a restless city. Would you care for some coffee?” The words flow naturally into an offer. Busy or not, Rory looks like he could probably use an espresso.

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+ Rory Faust

”That’s very commendable of you, I’m sure you must be doing great work.” It’s empty praise, the kind that is expected in situations like these. Some of the only words that are acceptable when speaking to a man who claims to spend every single day of his life trying to save people’s lives.
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And, if that’s the case, then isn’t it rather ironic that he’s here seeking the help of a man who ruins so many lives?
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Then again, there is no way for Rory to know that.
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‘Palliative.’ The word rings in Mars’ mind the moment it's pronounced, since young and healthy as he is, his knowledge of medical terminology has no reason to be extensive. He does know Latin though, and that comes surprisingly handy in situations like these:
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‘Palliative’, probably coming from the Latin ‘palliare’, meaning ‘to cloak’. Things that mask the effects of illnesses but don’t cure them, then? Quality of life for those doomed to a life of sickness and pain?
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”Ah, I imagine there must sadly be great need for something like that.” Surprisingly enough, the sympathy in his voice is not an act. The topic hits too close to home, and at these moments, even Mars can’t bring himself to act when it comes to that. ”Then I suppose you’re here because you’re looking for someone to financially support this endeavor.” As if this wasn’t obvious from the moment the appointment was made weeks ago.
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+ Rory Faust

Mars does try to imagine it. And, honestly, the image sparks nothing in him.
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Perhaps it’s because he has become too comfortable with death over the years. Perhaps he has seen too many people who are aware that they are at death's doorstep. Perhaps, one too many times, he has been the one who has pushed them forward and closed the door on them.
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Still, he sighs, nodding solemnly. ”I understand. It would be good to help those people, even if it’s just so they’re able to find some peace and comfort in their lives.” It’s a good act, because while Mars may not care about the cruel fate of a stranger, he does care when thinking of the woman who spent her life knowing she would die young – the woman who risked her own life and died so he could live and be here now. Had she had peace and comfort in her life? Had she been happy even if she knew her days were numbered? He wishes he knew. He wishes he had memories of his mother beyond pictures and what stories people told him when he was younger.
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”So, your plan is to help people like these by creating a new palliative care unit, yes? ...Does it not worry you that having a higher mortality rate thanks to this will damage the hospital’s reputation in the long run? You said it yourself.” Things like those must be asked and considered. Objectively, donations and charities are PR moves for the bank, and there would be no benefit in being associated with a hospital the general public dislikes. It would be counterproductive, in fact.

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+ Rory Faust

’If we're not willing to help people...then what's the point?’
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Mars can think of more than a few answers, and no matter what the man before him may say or what arguments he may use to try to convince him, he knows well what his response should be if thinking solely of the bank’s best interest.
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The problem is that he’s not thinking solely of the bank’s best interest.
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”See the bigger picture, Martín.”
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His grandmother’s voice rings in his mind, coated in venom, and as Rory Faust looks out the window, Mars in turn watches him, allowing himself to just so slightly lean back against his chair.
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What can he gain from all this?
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It could be spun in a favourable manner; a manner that makes him seem like a charitable person who cares about others. There could be articles written about what a good man he is for thinking of those that others most often forget, and with the right words said at the right interviews, there could be recognition and his public image could benefit greatly.
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Why would he want this?
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Does he have a plan, or is it just an assurance in case he ever were to need it?
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Mars allows himself a faint smile, one purposefully gentle, and with what seems like a tired sigh, he leans forward. ”You’re right, of course… there’s nothing more important.” His gaze finds Rory’s, and in it there’s a spark of something akin to determination. ”The details will need to be fleshed out, but I will help you, Dr. McLain. Personally.”
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Not the bank, but Mars.
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Perhaps, that spark was the shine of ambition.


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+ Rory Faust

Is this the part where Mars bullshits his way through a response that Rory ends up agreeing with and finding incredibly moving?
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He could. He’s good at doing that sort of thing, after all – bullshitting. It’s a skill, one that is perhaps equal parts innate charisma and practice; a silver tongue ever being the greatest ally of anyone who dares call himself a businessman.
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At least according to Mars, that is.
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”It’s not out of pity or because I want to make myself feel like I’m a good person, if that’s what you’re wondering.” There’s a quiet chuckle, the gentleness of his smile remaining just as his gaze moves beyond Rory – towards the exquisite painting hanging on the wall to his right.
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”It’s because life can be too cruel... We’ve all had difficult times, and we’ve all had struggles; some more than others, sure, but that doesn’t diminish the pain people suffer. In my case, even at my lowest I have made myself find things that bring my happiness. So, as I see it, if I can help others find some joy and comfort in their lives while at the darkest of times, then why wouldn’t I?” This is where he once again meets Rory’s gaze, smiling.
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While Mars truly couldn’t care less about strangers, there’s a degree of honesty to his words, and that can easily make it seem as if this is a heartfelt sentiment.
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Isn’t it, though?
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After all, in the long run, Mars is doing this for his own happiness.
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All that wealth he has amassed beyond his stupidly high CEO salary and the bloodstained fortune he will one day inherit; all those investments he makes, all that involvement in stock trade, all those business opportunities he takes part in… it’s all for moments like these. Because, in it’s own way, this is an investment too, and it has nothing to do with Mars’ peace of mind.
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Just one small speck in a much larger picture.

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+ Rory Faust

’You will be helping so many.’
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That’s also what the articles will say, what the interviewers will point out before asking him about his contributions to Hoennian society…
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Mars can see it clearly, plain as day. He can look at the metaphorical chessboard and predict moves that are yet to come, the outcomes not being the result of guesswork as much as they are that of careful preparation. How many moves ahead is enough to guarantee his success, though? When will he finally do everything that is in his power? Will that be enough?
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Those are always the questions that seem to come at moments like these, which perhaps is hilarious when considering that Mars has never really enjoyed actual chess, and yet sometimes that’s all his life seems to be.
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Is Rory Faust nothing but a pawn to him, then?
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Perhaps, but it’s not as if Mars would ever be foolish enough to reveal this, especially not while Rory is being incredibly useful to him.
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”I should be the one thanking you for coming here and bringing all this to my attention.” In his own way, he means it, even if perhaps not for the reasons that are expected of him.
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It’s only then when he stands, and looking at the doctor, a hand is offered to him as if to seal this deal between them.
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”I’m sure we’ll do great work together.”
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