LATE AT NIGHT...[break]

[attr="class","setting"]

[break]
"nina."
[break][break]
the name feels like clay in his mouth; odd, and lumpy. it was a beautiful name, but an act of personalization. a subtle step-away from a business transaction.
[break][break]
and that alone made it dangerous.
[break][break]
"how did it go?"

[break][break]
he's silent in the face of her teasing. gabriel gave her concessions in decorum, and professionalism, that he wouldn't many others. she produced results. good ones.

LATE AT NIGHT...[break]

[attr="class","setting"]

[break]
he continues kneading, even when she approaches to show him the photos. this was merely part of the process, but at this point, unneeded. he knew her work to be exceedingly thorough, and to expectations.
[break][break]
"you did well. the commission will be routed into your account, as usual."
[break][break]
it was a compliment even his children rarely heard. but, they rarely impressed him. normally, their transaction would end here. but...
[break][break]
"have you ever made pizza by hand, nina?"
[break]

LATE AT NIGHT...[break]

[attr="class","setting"]

[break]
"if you wish too."
[break][break]
one of those very large hands motions towards a number of hanging aprons. each one showed signs of use, though, nothing too ragged.
[break][break]
"i find working with my hands eases my mind. it just so happens, i also enjoy cooking."


[break]

LATE AT NIGHT...[break]

[attr="class","setting"]

[break]
"not always."
[break][break]
he takes a break from working the soft material to move towards the fridge. he retrieves a metallic bowl, covered by a thin plastic wrap on top. in seconds, he reveals, and lays out, another unworked glob of dough. between them both, gabriel places a bowl of flour.
[break][break]
"my father was a busy man. he'd spend days, weeks, even months at a time travelling, or working overtime on some project or another. but, when he was home and couldn't sleep, or was stressed, he would come in here."
[break][break]
he pinches flour between his fingers, tossing it on the table, and dough respectively.
[break][break]
"eventually, i caught on and offered to help him. soon enough, it became the only real time i could spend with my father."
[break][break]
he didn't understand the pressure the old man was under back then. now, carrying that mantle himself, it was all too clear.
[break][break]
gabriel looks up from beneath scarred flesh, as one of the hired help comes through the door, taking the photos from their spot. in their wake, two large, lumbering predators make their way past. the pyroar's approach the table, wet noses taking in the myriad of scents, before finding a cool place to lie on the tiles.[break][break]
lazy shits.





[break]

LATE AT NIGHT...[break]

[attr="class","setting"]

[break]
"no."
[break][break]
it's said so simply, and in a matter-of-fact way, that most would be put-off by it. but, the behemoth isn't finished speaking, either.
[break][break]
"my parents owned a small property on the outskirts of slateport. when my father's business spiked, and money came in, we moved to sinnoh and set up a home in the port-city there."
[break][break]
his breathe became ever-so hitched, as he began to roll-out and flatten his dough. large hands, and an empowered upper body made it far, far easier than it normally would be.
[break][break]
"my family and i moved back here recently in light of the instability. there is money to be made even at times like this."
[break][break]
most would think him heartless, or cold. there was some truth to it, without a sliver of a doubt. family came first.
[break][break]
always.
[break]

LATE AT NIGHT...[break]

[attr="class","setting"]

[break]
gabriel nods, moving to the cold box nearby. more supplies than he knew what to do with, littered the interior. his voice echoes from within, a surprisingly personal question.
[break][break]
"tell me about yourself, nina."

[break][break]
or, at the very least, tell me the lies you've practiced.[break]