Esea. [Marton/Christian. Will]
Jun. 28th, 2005 10:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
palacechristian.
“So what’s it like?” Christian looked over at his father who was leaning on his desk reading the status report on Esea. He looked particularly handsome this morning, Christian thought, the dark suit was in the formal style, no shirt or tie, just the mandarin collar and the ornate buttoning down the front and along the seam at cuffs and ankles. It suited him admirably and with the soft, recently shorn curls and the small beard he’d not yet shaved off, he was a far cry from the sedate and cautious Marton of a few months previous.
“Not good.” Marton was saying, still perusing the document. “The initial situation has been dealt with, now it’s time to start thinking about rebuilding. They got away with remarkably little loss of life, but the devastation is almost total.” Putting the papers aside, he looked up. “We’ll help, of course. Everyone will. And we’ll contribute personally as a family, but I’m thinking we need to kick off a fund-raising effort. Get others started along the same lines. Any ideas?”
Christian considered it. “Something here? At Palace?” Leaning back in his chair, he crossed one leg over the other and sat there thinking, foot tapping in the air. “Fundraiser . . . ?” he thought aloud. “What about . . . what about a Carnival? Been about fifteen, twenty years since we’ve held one?” He looked up to see his father nodding.
“Not a bad idea.” Marton said slowly. “Connery would have a fit; was he who persuaded me to stop them in the first place. Security risk. But for this . . . yeah, why not.”
Christian grinned. “I’ll let you deal with his reactions then.” he said. “Who gets the job? Sean? He’ll hate you.”
Marton’s smile matched his own for mischief, but he shook his head, albeit a little reluctantly. “He’s got enough on his plate. Besides, it’s a national charity kickoff, we’d be better served giving it to someone . . . I know! What about the in-house religious? Brother Lionel?”
Christian frowned. “I think he retired.” Picking up his com from the side table, he checked. “Yeah. It’s a Brother Jon now.” He put the com back.
“Well, no matter. The Brothers are good at that sort of thing.” Now Marton picked up his com and called Lucius.
“Make an appointment for the Christian brother, Brother Jon, please Lucius. No. Doesn’t matter. Yes. Soon as you can fit him in. Right. Thank you.” He hung up.
“There. Sorted.” He smiled, satisfied, then checked the time. “Darn. Time to go.” Marton straightened up just as the door opened and Will peered around the edge, smiling.
“Ready?”
“Yes. You?”
Will came in, giving Christian a somewhat self-conscious glance. He too was dressed in a formal suit and Christian raised an eyebrow in surprise.
“What’s this?”
Still smiling, Marton put an arm around Will’s shoulders and kissed his temple. “Will has graciously agreed to join the firm.” he said. “Our first official engagement is this Temple opening.”
“Hey, great!” Christian got up.
“Speaking of engagements,” Marton went on. “aren’t you supposed to be somewhere with someone right about now?”
“Oh crap! Yes!” Finally thinking to check the time himself, Christian landed a quick peck on both their cheeks and skittered, muttering under his breath as he went through the connecting door into his own office, fingers busy adjusting his tie.
“Kids!” Marton complained, shaking his head sadly. “Got to keep after them all the time.”
Will grinned and turned toward him, wrapping his arms about Marton’s waist. He kissed his lover’s nose. “Quit griping.” he told him. “You need the practice.”
“So what’s it like?” Christian looked over at his father who was leaning on his desk reading the status report on Esea. He looked particularly handsome this morning, Christian thought, the dark suit was in the formal style, no shirt or tie, just the mandarin collar and the ornate buttoning down the front and along the seam at cuffs and ankles. It suited him admirably and with the soft, recently shorn curls and the small beard he’d not yet shaved off, he was a far cry from the sedate and cautious Marton of a few months previous.
“Not good.” Marton was saying, still perusing the document. “The initial situation has been dealt with, now it’s time to start thinking about rebuilding. They got away with remarkably little loss of life, but the devastation is almost total.” Putting the papers aside, he looked up. “We’ll help, of course. Everyone will. And we’ll contribute personally as a family, but I’m thinking we need to kick off a fund-raising effort. Get others started along the same lines. Any ideas?”
Christian considered it. “Something here? At Palace?” Leaning back in his chair, he crossed one leg over the other and sat there thinking, foot tapping in the air. “Fundraiser . . . ?” he thought aloud. “What about . . . what about a Carnival? Been about fifteen, twenty years since we’ve held one?” He looked up to see his father nodding.
“Not a bad idea.” Marton said slowly. “Connery would have a fit; was he who persuaded me to stop them in the first place. Security risk. But for this . . . yeah, why not.”
Christian grinned. “I’ll let you deal with his reactions then.” he said. “Who gets the job? Sean? He’ll hate you.”
Marton’s smile matched his own for mischief, but he shook his head, albeit a little reluctantly. “He’s got enough on his plate. Besides, it’s a national charity kickoff, we’d be better served giving it to someone . . . I know! What about the in-house religious? Brother Lionel?”
Christian frowned. “I think he retired.” Picking up his com from the side table, he checked. “Yeah. It’s a Brother Jon now.” He put the com back.
“Well, no matter. The Brothers are good at that sort of thing.” Now Marton picked up his com and called Lucius.
“Make an appointment for the Christian brother, Brother Jon, please Lucius. No. Doesn’t matter. Yes. Soon as you can fit him in. Right. Thank you.” He hung up.
“There. Sorted.” He smiled, satisfied, then checked the time. “Darn. Time to go.” Marton straightened up just as the door opened and Will peered around the edge, smiling.
“Ready?”
“Yes. You?”
Will came in, giving Christian a somewhat self-conscious glance. He too was dressed in a formal suit and Christian raised an eyebrow in surprise.
“What’s this?”
Still smiling, Marton put an arm around Will’s shoulders and kissed his temple. “Will has graciously agreed to join the firm.” he said. “Our first official engagement is this Temple opening.”
“Hey, great!” Christian got up.
“Speaking of engagements,” Marton went on. “aren’t you supposed to be somewhere with someone right about now?”
“Oh crap! Yes!” Finally thinking to check the time himself, Christian landed a quick peck on both their cheeks and skittered, muttering under his breath as he went through the connecting door into his own office, fingers busy adjusting his tie.
“Kids!” Marton complained, shaking his head sadly. “Got to keep after them all the time.”
Will grinned and turned toward him, wrapping his arms about Marton’s waist. He kissed his lover’s nose. “Quit griping.” he told him. “You need the practice.”
