[attr="class","ophelia"]

[attr="class","ophelia b"]

[attr="class","ophelia i"]ah - so this is the deep sea.

she has heard rumors spilling over into shareholder meetings, but she had never dreamed of actually being here in person. they always told her not to get her hands dirty, to stay pristine and sit pretty at the top of the company. chairmen don't need to get involved in the affairs of others, they said. you'd only be a liability to others, they promised.

perhaps, in the end, they had been right.

"are you familiar with this place, mr. black?"

a jolteon sticks close to her side, protective and on edge. she supposes the pin missile fur beneath her fingertips should be comforting but the world around them pulses and she swears she hears the soft chanting of her name somewhere deep within. it beckons her closer, a carrot on a string.

she swallows back fear, placing a soft, professional smile onto her lips. the glue doesn't seem to firm as it should.

"I've heard there's valuable resources in these realms - is that true?"

energy sources of use to her company... is such a thing really attainable?

GABRIEL BLACK

[attr="class","ophelia"]

[attr="class","ophelia b"]

[attr="class","ophelia i"]no, she's not a dynasty. she's nothing more than another face in a long line of family ties and businesses.

there is nothing special about being the face of a dynasty, not when it's barely even yours.

"you know, i would much rather be known as a friend than a company's figurehead."

her hand settles gently in his, rigid posture defrosting against the warmth of his palm.

and as they pass by flower after flower, sunlit prisms painted against their extremities, she mulls over the concept of different.

is it as simple as the opposite of what she projects herself to be in the public eye? is it a hidden facet of herself tucked beneath years of familial duty? or... is it nothing more than the ancient longing to just be a girl with no worries or cares or responsibilities?

she doesn't know.

"something closer to the real self, i suppose?"

it's the only thing she can possibly think of.

"every portrait of me, even as a child, has always been elegant and composed but that can't be all i am, can it?"

luciano fisk
mission

[attr="class","ophelia"]

[attr="class","ophelia b"]

[attr="class","ophelia i"]a small smile flashes from behind the rim of a wine glass before he takes center stage.

and as he speaks, she gingerly sips down each word with white wine.

"i see."

the glass returns to its place on table cloth and she leans forward in her seat, eyes focused entirely on him and the concept he presents.

"while i don't doubt your experience, i must ask... why do you believe jolt united should select your firm over other financial groups?"

color her curious, perhaps. there's a necessary dance to this meeting, one she is still growing accustomed to dancing. weeding out the best from the herd requires additional information, portfolios needed to further the foundation he has already laid.

"could you provide examples of where your expertise has led to greater results?"

Frank Caffey

[attr="class","ophelia"]

[attr="class","ophelia b"]

[attr="class","ophelia i"]"i suppose..."

though, she isn't as big of a fan of wealth as she necessarily should be.

"i don't know if i'd say my wealth breeds luxury, however. i prefer to not indulge myself in my own financial background."

it leaves a poor taste in her mouth.

sure, her entire life in founded in money... but does it need to dictate everything? she's found a precarious balance of money and care to be the best way to handle her business. too much emphasis on one side and the other suffers.

a light shrug overtakes her shoulders as she raises her drink to take another sip. it's growing on her, perhaps.

"whatever is near."

she flashes a small, barely amused smile.

"trashy books, gossip magazines, anything."

a beat passes before she asks a similar question of him.

"do you read as well?"

Remiel Calcifet

[attr="class","ophelia"]

[attr="class","ophelia b"]

[attr="class","ophelia i"]truthfully, she had carefully selected this restaurant solely based on their course selection. each pasta dish sounded too heavenly for her to not pick up the phone and place the reservation.

and in the end, she settles on the classic fettuccini alfredo with lemon garlic shrimp. a safe choice, perhaps.

"it does."

she smiles a little wider, pleased with his decision.

the waitress places their orders a moment after leaving and returns after a few minutes have passed with a basket of warm bread, butter, and oil. the glasses of white wine follow shortly after.

she plucks hers up and extends it to meet his, the clinking of glasses never failing to be a satisfying sound.

"and to yours as well, frank, beauty especially included."

the corners of her smile lose their polite edge. it's a tease she washes down with a sip of crisp white wine.

"now, shall we begin the business portion or would you prefer to wait until after dinner?"

Frank Caffey

[attr="class","ophelia"]

[attr="class","ophelia b"]

[attr="class","ophelia i"]she blinks fresh surprise from her eyes like one would sleep. slow, languid.

"what am i, then, if not a muse?"

there is little he can say that could necessarily catch her off guard. she expects friend or companion to settle into the air from his lips.

his hand settles nicely in hers. warm, familiar. she flashes a fond, genuine smile. it is not practiced, not poised, but lopsided and girlish and her.

"i'm not sure, actually."

she wouldn't even know where to begin.

"maybe something different than a usual portrait?"

the regal and demure... she tires of it. she does not fit in such a category.

luciano fisk
mission

[attr="class","ophelia"]

[attr="class","ophelia b"]

[attr="class","ophelia i"]he helps her with her chair first, pulling it out and waiting for her to settle in before taking a seat in his own. and as she sits, she murmurs a soft, "thank you, frank."

the lighting paints them both in a softer light. warmer than the harsh lines of business she's used to. in this atmosphere, she's almost fooled into thinking this is more of an indulgent meeting than the premise allows.

she studies him for a moment beneath the glow of the chandelier before her eyes drop to the menu. there's multiple choices that stick out to her. all of them, in some form, include pasta.

and when he asks of her preferences, she flashes a smile. the low light makes it more warm than practiced.

"i also happen to be a fan of alto marean cuisine, specifically any pasta dishes."

for wine...

"pink or white wine is a personal favorite as well."

she appreciates the sweeter notes. red is too bitter for her palate.

"do you have a preference for wine?"

she leans as she asks the question, a little closer to give him her full attention.

Frank Caffey

[attr="class","ophelia"]

[attr="class","ophelia b"]

[attr="class","ophelia i"]in a way, she supposes this isn't the worst way to spend time.

their glasses clink together and she allows hers to return to its paper coaster after she's done with her sip.

"they do have needs but it can be hard to meet every client personally."

some require a different touch than she can provide.

"i find business meetings are best conducted over dinner. both parties leave happier when food fills them prior to their wishes being met."

besides, she deals in loans and financial backing more than anything else. her meetings go swimmingly simply because no one wants to lose their money. she makes sure they never do.

and when remiel asks a question of her free time, she blinks.

how does she relax?

"reading, i suppose?"

there's uncertainty there, as if she doesn't quite know the full answer. perhaps it'd be better to say she rarely gets to relax with a company beneath her wings.

"i've found relaxing is a luxury i seldom see."

Remiel Calcifet

[attr="class","ophelia"]

[attr="class","ophelia b"]

[attr="class","ophelia i"]"please," she pauses, hand extending to shake his. "ophelia is fine."

the ms coin moniker still feels off-putting in a way she can't quite place. she blames it on imposter syndrome and yet, she knows it's not as simple as it sounds.

"thank you for asking. i appreciate your interest."

she had, perhaps, thought it a joke at first. the longer the thought of such a meeting lingered, though... the more enticing it sounded. she doesn't need a financial advisor by her side but the concept is sound enough to warrant this.

the urge for cheeks to flush a slight shade of pink beneath idle praise comes and goes. it persists in heat yet fails to produce a color. she's long since tried to keep a vice grip on the girlish tendencies that plague her. they have no place here.

"i have heard the food here is the best mauville has to offer."

at least, the reviews mention as such. she's as unfamiliar with mauville as she is with this man.

her eyes dart to the hostess, to the shy smile she wears. and they soften a fraction, more personal than professional. a habit she can't quite shake... the bleeding heart unbecoming of a woman in her position.

"does our table happen to be ready?"

the hostess nods slowly. a moment later and she's gathering their menus, shy eyes expectant of them to follow her.

Frank Caffey

[attr="class","ophelia"]

[attr="class","ophelia b"]

[attr="class","ophelia i"]"solitary?"

a light, almost amused chuckle escapes.

"in this day and age, one might call that a blessing."

she knows, perhaps a little too well, their positions grant them no such happiness. expectations are high and while hers are heavy, his must be crushing.

her head tilts with information and she leans into it without much hesitation. it's a privilege to be given bits and pieces of the man before her. she wouldn't want to squander it.

"do you typically entertain diplomats while in hoenn's borders?"

while she knows little of galar outside of the realm of currency and trade, she likes to imagine the reach is quite extensive.

and where he waits to touch his drink, she takes the first sip for them both. it burns in a way that's familiar, often paired with more business than pleasure.

"i cannot say that i do, mr. calcifet. it has not been in the cards for me as of yet, i'm afraid."

Remiel Calcifet

[attr="class","ophelia"]

[attr="class","ophelia b"]

[attr="class","ophelia i"]their meeting place is high class, existing in a realm almost above mauville.

and it's stuffy in the way most business is, white collared and riddled with pleasantries.

regardless of three or four years in the position under her belt, she still feels out of place. it's a practiced manner, sure, but there's a robotic sense to it all that bores the mind.

perhaps tonight will be a change of pace. wouldn't that be nice?

she lingers by hostess stand, her back to the door. behind a curtain of purple hides a small tattoo at the nape of the neck. it winks at Frank Caffey when he arrives shortly after.

and when she turns, her smile is as warm as it is cold. a walking contradiction perfect for this meeting.

"mr. caffey?"

at least, she believes so. he looks every inch of the man she saw on a google search in the car on the way here.

Frank Caffey

[attr="class","ophelia"]

[attr="class","ophelia b"]

[attr="class","ophelia i"]she's used to this sort of thing. not necessarily the bar atmosphere but... the man ordering a drink on her behalf.

it's both a custom and a curse in this world, isn't it?

she's not particular to an old fashioned but it's alcohol and it's been a long night of networking her way into hoenn's social circle.

"is it?"

her tone is pleasant, polite, reigned in. she's still in socialite mode, perhaps.

"i'm excited to try their best."

she knows it'll be good. the establishment looks popular, crowded even.

and when she settles into her seat, she's flashes a smile. the edges are loosening, as if she can't be bothered to keep the practiced efforts in place for much longer.

"do you usually come here?"

Remiel Calcifet