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[attr="class","post"]the glare of his computer's become almost sickening at this point. while his fingers work furiously at the keyboard, he checks a document beside him before his attention's back on the screen. the folders around him are littered with post-it notes, both on the cover and inside. it's a busy day.
[break][break]and that's exactly why he can't help an exasperated groan when he hears the knocking at the door. still, at least whoever it was had the decency to make their presence know.
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marcel doesn't turn around, nor stop working. there's a reason their here, and even if he did tried speaking it was more often than not these people wanted to get the first word in, going on about whatever it was they wanted him to do that absolutely must be done as soon as possible.
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the question doesn't faze him, he's heard it too many times by now. he might have returned it if he cared enough, but this is work. personal interactions are in inconvenience. he answers with his own question, calm and mildly disinterested.
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"what's the job?"
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[break]NOTES: ...
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TAG:[attr="class","tag"]marie jules

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[attr="class","post"]marcel enjoys the cryptic on many occassions, but it is safe to say this is not one of them. the newcomer (a woman, he has decided from the timbre of her voice) is testing his patience, and he doesn't take her tone of superiority any kindly either. his irritation is enough to pry him from his work, and marcel spins his chair to face her.
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he watches her with a scarcely-veiled displeasure, which soon morphs into shock once he catches her name. he hadn't recognised her, never thought the time would come when he needed to, but her name was very much known. one of the four beasts themselves: marie fucking jules.
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just his luck.
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his manner is stiff, and his unease shows for a second. but a second is all that she needs. these were the people he wanted to stay clear of, the people whose lips his death sentence would fall from (they'd already condemned his love, after all). these people were dangerous, and marcel wanted nothing to do with them.
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the silence stretches for a beat too long before he finally answers. "just people?" he says, "that's awfully vague."
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[break]NOTES: ...
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TAG:[attr="class","tag"]marie jules

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[attr="class","post"]she's as cold as he expected. he doesn't so much as blink in response to her scatching tone — yeah, alright, he'd brought that upon himself. unrelenting, as expected from a beast, marcel knows when someone's pulling rank on him.
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he doesn't like her. and he doesn't feel at all bad for it.
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his silence is as close to submission as she'll get, but it's enough to make him feel that bit pathetic. marcel opens a draw to flick through its contents before pulling out a folder. he holds it out to her, a symbol of his acquiescence.
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"here you go, then. first catch of the day."
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[break]NOTES: ...
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TAG:[attr="class","tag"]marie jules

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[attr="class","post"]he takes the phone without a response. doesn't look at it, doesn't try turning it on, simply feeling the weight of it in his hand. he keeps his eyes on marie as she makes her way to the door, tensed and ready for any messed up trick she might have had up her sleeve. they were like that, those types.
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but no attack comes. the only threat is buried into her words and marcel holds back a laugh at the idea of a healthy relationship. again, he doesn't respond.
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after the door's shut, he turns back to his desk. his hand clenches around the phone resting in his palm and there's the overwhelming urge to throw it at the wall. it won't change anything, though.
[break][break]he knows the price of failure, but there's a price to success too. the wolves are at his heels yet again — different situation, same threat — and marcel can't help but shake the feeling that this was only inevitable.
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there really was no winning, was there?
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[break]NOTES: ...
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TAG:[attr="class","tag"]marie jules