Private Act As If You Do When You Don't

[Noema Kintar]

"Certainly I will consider it," Noema said. "Should I go and get that started?"

A few minutes later, she was standing in front of the autochef, regarding with some skepticism as spicy steam poured from the ventilation unit. Her eyes watered and she stepped back. Had she done it wrong? Was it supposed to smell like that? It was supposed to be spicy, she knew, but this seemed like -- a lot. The machine made a ding and Noema touched the door handle and then yelped and drew back, sucking her finger instinctively. "Son of a b-- "

She dug her fingers into the oven mitts and pulled the door open, then took the two trays out of the autochef. She examined each of them and then carried them over to the small table and set them down, then took the mitts off and put them on the counter. Noema touched the intercom control. "Food is ready."

She settled into one of the seats and studied her finger. It was a vivid, angry pink, but she suspected that it would not blister. That was something, at least. When George entered, she waited for him to sit down. "We really ought to at least to deliver the money, right?" Noema said without preamble. "Might upset your mother and the Prime Minister." Noema picked up a fork and began to prod at the food.

"Did you say you take your steak well done?" Noema asked dubiously. "That's sociopath behavior."

George Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

Noema Kintar

He heard the cursing but knew better than to interfere.

They didn't know each other for long. She might have welcomed it. But something told George that she needed this. It couldn't be easy to be on ground zero of an invasion and having everything ripped from you. It wasn't her fault, but try and tell that to Noema. It would be the same if they ever lost Aegis and the whole Republic to one of those giants.

It wouldn't be their fault.

But he'd probably have to keep Natasi Fortan from falling on a sword over it anyway. Sometimes responsibility and the sense of it could cut in a way nothing else would.

"Oh, of course, we shall." At the very least the Hidden Path would be able to make good use of that. It would make the loss of a whole new asset probably feel a bit less impactful. Reima would most likely be annoyed, his mother too, they really desired to craft a strong relationship between the Path and them.

He understood that too.

But George also was a firm believer of not putting too many eggs into one basket. Best if they kept a few things on their side of the fence.

"Did you say you take your steak well done?" Noema asked dubiously. "That's sociopath behavior."

"Oh, that is not a very nice thing to say." George responded but clearly teasing and unbothered. "And when I have been so forthright with you. Offering you a job... a well-paying one, I might add."

Smirking there a little.

"Perhaps I like you even more now."

He so disliked it when people called him Lord and bowed and scrapped before him.

 

[Noema Kintar]

"Okay, first of all, you never mentioned the pay," Noema said. She reached for the carafe of water between them and poured herself a glass, then reached over and filled George's glass, too, before setting down the carafe. "Don't bury the lede. What are we talking about, here? And the benefits? And let's talk expense account. I can already tell hanging out with you royal types is expensive. Am I supposed to splash out for my own designer gowns? Ridiculous."

She lifted her glass, pausing a moment as there was a dull thud and the air filtration system kicked in. Apparently the spice in the steam from cooking counted as particulate matter. Noema felt herself tense and took a deep breath through her nose before taking a drink from the water.

"Anyway. Well done meat is just so... " Noema let her voice trail off and she shook her head. "Well I guess it's your mouth. I take mine medium rare, like a civilized person. In case you ever have to operate the autochef. Do you teach you how to do that in the palace?"

George Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

Noema Kintar

"Well, I assumed it was obvious, that you wouldn't be working free of charge while under the employ of the Prince." George teased her lightly as he nodded his thanks, accepting the glass of water. Taking a sip and humming softly. It wasn't... great. Filtered water always had an odd after-taste, but even still, it was welcome.

"I have a suspicion mother will force me to pay you out of pocket, once she finds out I stole you right from under the Path, but..."

George shrugged.

"That's what I have my investments for. Money is not a concern. Benefits... dental, designer gowns... all of it paid for." He smiled at her. "But practically no vacation days, I apologize, it is a whole lifestyle rather than a nine to five."

Which was not that odd.

It was the same working for the SIA and would have been the same as working for the Path.

"The autochef... no, I don't suppose I know how that works. I have people to cook my food for me." Bemused there. "And I don't believe I would be very good at it anyway."

 

[Noema Kintar]

Noema regarded him skeptically as he spoke about his personal chef so casually. Don't be ridiculous, peasant, there are people for that. Operate an autochef. How quaint. How rustic. Mahaha. She sipped her own water. "Some women find helplessness an attractive quality in a man," she observed over the rim of her glass before taking another sip before finally setting the water down.

She picked up her cutlery and began to cut into her own meat.

"I'm familiar with that kind of role. And -- no." She took a bite of her steak. "I don't do 'no vacation days'. But if I have to go wherever the rich and royal go on vacation, I suppose that's negotiable. If I get my own room and time to snorkel. Or ski. Or -- I don't know what you people do with your leisure time -- watch horses run around circles or hunt tiny soft animals for shoes."

Noema took another bite -- vegetables, this time -- and allowed herself to chew and swallow, then took another sip of the water.

"I'll consider it," she said genuinely, studying the Prince with her inscrutable hazel eyes.

George Vitalis​