[SCENE] Diego and Grossberg in: "Things That Go Bump in the Daytime"
Grossberg: *it's mid afternoon, about the usual time that Marvin Grossberg arrives at the Grossberg Law Offices each day. And true to tradition, he enters the overly grandiose lobby of the firm, intently reading the day's paper as he passes by his secretary's desk*
Grossberg: *without glancing up from the paper* Hrum. Any messages for me today, Abigail?
Abigail: *looks up over the edges of her rectangular horn-rimmed glasses, eyebrows already knitting* Yes, sir. In fact, you have a visitor waiting for you.
Grossberg: Hmm? *advances towards his office, still not glancing up from the front page of the paper* Isn't Stevens, is it? He told me he was dropping by on the fifteenth...
Abigail: No, sir. It isn't Stevens. Today is the ninth. I think it's only fair to warn you that this visitor may not be happy to see you.
Grossberg: Oh, pish posh. *makes a hard right before his office door, to a desk with coffee and snacks on it. He grabs a donut with his free hand-- still not looking up from his paper--and the crumbs fly forth from his mouth as he speaks* Something go awry with his case? Did we lose it? Did he talk to the DeLite fellow?
Abigail: No, sir, he isn't a client and he hasn't spoken to Mr. DeLite, but - *takes a moment to watch the crumbs rain from his ridiculous mustache and dirty the carpet, which she will almost certainly have to vacuum later. She adjusts her glasses again, eyes narrowing* Actually, sir? You should probably go right in. I'll bring by some coffee.
Grossberg: Mm! Thank you, my girl! *and with half a donut still balanced in his mouth he dusts off his hand on his suit jacket, carefully folds up his newspaper and and opens up his office door (getting some icing powder on the handle as he does so as well)*
Abigail: *one side of her mouth crooks up in the closest thing she's had to a smile in hours*
Diego: *Diego Armando is sitting in Grossberg's office - not in a chair, as one might expect, but on top of his desk, one leg crossed over the other, both hands resting on his knee. He does not move as Grossberg enters* Hello, Marvin.
Grossberg: *is three quarters of the way to his desk before he realizes that something is amiss--that in fact, there is a someone--a particular someone sitting on his mahogany workspace* *the donut halfway in his mouth drops to the carpeted floor with a soft thud*
Diego: *stands up, actually taller standing than sitting on the desk, and puts his hands in his pockets as he takes the few steps over to Grossberg. He towers over the rounder man, looking down at him with a face as cold as stone* You shouldn't play with your food.
Grossberg: A-Armando! *gapes up at the taller man for a great many seconds-- then sags, quivering* W...what are you doing here?!
Diego: *grins* I am here for what's mine, Marvin.
Grossberg: *winces, pales and then his legs give way as he collapses on the floor. He brings his arms futilely up in an attempt to shield himself* T-take whatever you want! Just don't hurt me!
Diego: *after a moment his grin falls away, momentarily replaced by a sneer - and then that falls away too, until he's just frowning* For God's sake, man, I'm not here to rob you. I just remembered that I never cleaned out my desk. *reaches down with one hand* Here, get up.
Grossberg: Oh-- oh. *even after that reassurance Grossberg doesn't seem fully at ease--he spends several seconds locating his donut on the floor (it's right in front of him) before he takes Diego's hand and attempts to heave himself back to standing*
Diego: *braces himself harder before grabbing Grossberg's wrist with his free hand, heaving the rotund man up as hard as he can without dislocating Grossberg's shoulder or breaking his own back* Hrnng - have you gained weight?
Grossberg: Gained-- no, no. *a beat* Well, yes, perhaps a few pounds. These last years were quite hard on me. I'm not the man I was. *is still panting quite hard, in part perhaps due to the exertion of standing, in part still suffering from his shock*
Diego: *resists the urge to wipe his hand off on his pant leg, instead putting it back into his pocket* I'd say you're more man now than you've ever been. *sighs through his teeth* Did you put all of my things into storage?
Grossberg: No, no. I did nothing of the sort. *though he's calming down each moment Diego does not make a lunge at him, the anxiety is still quite evident in the manner he's crumbling the remaining portion of the donut in his fingers (and sneaking the occasional mouthful as he speaks)* It's all still in your office, which Abigail has kept in good order. *sighs, a few crumbs scattering onto his lapels* Would you like to go see?
Diego: *it's impossible to tell if he's staring at the display before him* Yeah. I think it's in order. You want to lead the way?
Grossberg: Hrm. ...Yes, yes, of course. *and in something of a scamper--as much as a man his age and weight can scamper--he leads the way out of his office. Outside, in the main area, he shoots a look towards the direction of Abigail's desk, but the secretary doesn't so much as glance up from her paperwork*
Grossberg: *the room they head to is only a few feet away--one of its walls is adjacent to Grossberg's own office, it seems. The door is closed, but opens easily enough when the old attorney tries it. Inside, the office is spotless, not even dusty, though the general feeling in the air is that the space has not been used in a long while*
Diego: *in spite of that, something has changed - something so deeply ingrained in the identity of the room that, when he steps in, Diego Armando is temporarily bewildered. Then he inhales through his nose, smelling deeply of the cleaner that Abigail has been using* Smells like... lemons.
Grossberg: *seems rather pleased by the implication, and beams for the first time since seeing Diego today* Indeed, my boy! A pleasant scent, isn't it? Ah... the days of my youth...
Diego: *looks down at the back of Grossberg's head*
Grossberg: *tenses slightly, sensing the look without even having turned around to see it. Two beats of awkward silence pass* E-err... So. Yes, your things... as you can see, they're all still quite in place.
Diego: *strides past him, tracing a finger along the edge of his desk. He looks around the office for a moment, eyes tracing a wide circle, before looking at the desk again. Then he grins* Yeah. I'd say so.
Grossberg: You'll want to be clearing the room out, then. *glances towards the door* I'll have Abigail fetch some empty boxes.
Diego: Yeah. *not really paying attention anymore, he leans his weight onto the desk, which creaks under a long-absent strain*
Grossberg: A-ah! *his head whips back remarkably fast* That... that noise! *his features change from surprised... to confused... to vaguely accusing*
Diego: Hm? *takes his weight off, then presses down again, earning a long, slow, and rather loud creak* This?
Grossberg: Yes! That noise! That contemptible--that hideous creaking noise that has not left my mind in the entirety of the last decade! *marches on over in a huff* I've had three repairmen in here and none of them could determine the source, much less identify how it occurs. And even when I knew you would never be returning to the office I did NOT want another person in here--I did not want to take the chance!
Diego: *steps away from the desk, momentarily taken aback - this fussy old man suddenly sounds like his fussy old boss* Chance of what?
Grossberg: *fumes-- you can almost see the steam escaping his ears as he rises to his full, rotund height in front of Diego* HEARING THAT SOUND AGAIN!
Diego: *looks down at him for a beat*
Grossberg: *looks Diego dead in the visor... from below*
Diego: *looks at the desk again, suddenly curious because he's never noticed this sound before in his life* Hm. I wonder what would have been causing it while I was in here.
Grossberg: *blinks* You... you mean to say you don't know?! Good gods, Armando--surely you were the one who had been causing it this whole time? If I had known you enjoyed such mischief, why... I would have fired you upon the spot!
Diego: *turns his head - slowly - to look at the older man* Really.
Grossberg: ........
Grossberg: *sags, glancing away almost ashamedly* Well. No. No, you were too fine an attorney for that. But I would have asked you to stop.
Diego: Thank you, Marvin. *the thanks is genuine, if begrudging - he hasn't heard somebody say that about his skills as an attorney for years. Still, he turns his attention back to the desk, kneeling next to it and looking at the wood* Still, I wonder what-
~~~
*creeeeeeeak*
Grossberg: *glances up inquisitively from where he is sitting, a heaping spoonful of caviar midway to his mouth. The rest of the tin of caviar rests in front of him on his desk*
*creak.... creak..... creak*
Grossberg: ... *sets down his spoon and pushes to his feet, tilting his ear*
*creak... creak.... creak creak creak creak*
Grossberg: *checks about his office carefully, all along the bookshelves, and the wall where his beloved painting is hanging-- it seems like he's done this before, as he seems to grow increasingly agitated as the noise continues*
*creak creak creak creakcreakcreakcreak*
Grossberg: *had been placing his ear against the wall--when the sound increases in tempo yet again he stomps his foot in exasperation* Oooohhhh! *marches out the door and heads all of five steps down the hallway, to the office adjacent to his* Armando? Armando! *raps his knuckles loudly upon the attorney's door*
Diego: *there is the sound of a chair scraping against the floor, a moment of silence, and then:* Come in.
Grossberg: *with quite an irritated sigh, he turns the handle of the door and steps into the room* Armando! Armando, I wasn't sure at first, but over the course of the last few weeks, I have finally determined-- ... *he trails off, blinking*
Diego: *looks up from behind his desk, wearing a pair of reading glasses, with a case file in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other* Determined what, Marvin?
Mia: *is sitting on the other side of the desk, on the seat typically used by clients. She looks up from writing something on a notepad and turns to look at the old lawyer as well* Yes, Mr. Grossberg?
Grossberg: *squints his eyes and turns his head, as if trying to locate some sound* ......... *he walks towards the desk, towards the wall that adjoins his office*
Diego: *doesn't rise, instead following Grossberg with his eyes* We were just discussing some ancillary details of State vs. Fawles. I think we might be onto the last leg of this whole thing, Marvin. It will be the biggest triumph in the history of the firm.
Grossberg: *this seems to pull him out of whatever train of thought he had been having-- he looks to Diego and beams* Well! Well, well. I'm quite pleased. The investigation has certainly taken a while, but if it will be as successful as you say... it will be worth it in the end. You two have been working so very diligently on this case. *turns to look at Mia* Mia, I have to offer my congratulations to you as well.
Mia: ...Thank you, Mr. Grossberg. *seems a little fidgety, or a little distracted--she twiddles the pen in her fingers and looks down at the notepad on the desk*
Diego: *grins wolfishly over the desk* Don't be so modest, kitten. There's no way that anyone but you could be at the head of this case. *turns his attention back to Grossberg* Is there anything that needs my attention? *he lets the fact that he's busy hang in the air*
Grossberg: Hm? Oh, yes. *frowns deeply, spinning back to the wall* I was so sure-- but now, in here, I can't-- Hrm. It's nothing, nothing, my boy. Carry on with your work, both of you. *walks back over to the door, looking quite absentminded*
Diego: Yes, sir. Call me if you need anything. *raises his mug in a salute to Grossberg's back, still grinning wide*
Grossberg: *as he walks out the door* I will, my boy. *shuts the door behind him*
Mia: *lets out a sigh of relief--but it's barely even exhaled before the door is opened again and she tenses*
Diego: *lowers his coffee mug and cocks an eyebrow*
Grossberg: *poking his head in the door, with his eyes narrowed suspiciously* The two of you have been quite hard at work lately. If I recall correctly... you already had a talk in your office this morning, correct?
Diego: Yes, we did.
Grossberg: *with an almost accusing tone* And yesterday evening... at about six-thirty? And perhaps yesterday afternoon, at three? And two.
Mia: *hurriedly, looking at Diego* Actually, Mr. Grossberg, the last two were just one, rather long meeting, really--
Grossberg: *interjecting* And noontime?
Diego: *holds up his hand* Marvin.
Grossberg: Hrm?
Diego: *holds up two fingers* In the first place, you pay me very well, and I intend to give you your money's worth.
Grossberg: *as if he has just realized this fact, and is pleased* ...Hrm! Why yes, I suppose I do.
Diego: *holds up one finger* In the second, not all of our meetings have been about State vs. Fawles.
Mia: *shoots a look at Diego*
Grossberg: Oh! Oh, you don't say! *seems almost ecstatic from the news* Well, well! Well then, I leave it in your capable hands--both your capable hands. *blinks* What have the other meetings been about?
Diego: *lowers his hand to the file* There's a certain art dealer who will be having a gallery showing in two weeks. I took the liberty of giving Abigail all of the information. You should have your reservation confirmed by four o'clock this afternoon.
Grossberg: *the gasp of delight is almost a girlish squeal* A-Armando...!!! You shouldn't have!
Diego: *grin!* Please, boss. Go enjoy yourself. I know there are arrangements you need to make.
Grossberg: Yes, yes. I'll go do so, immediately--! *and everything else conveniently forgotten he immediately closes the door, off to speak to his secretary about the most wonderful event in a tremendous hurry*
Diego: *exhales slowly* You know, the old man is a bother, but it does me good to see him so excited. *rises up from behind his desk - he is not wearing pants, and his boxers are as red as blood* Should we call it a day?
Mia: *gives a sigh of relief again, this time burying her head in her hands* Yes. That was too close.
Diego: *grins, standing triumphantly - and then taking his seat again* Your call, kitten.
Mia: *hesitates, her brow furrowing slightly as she weighs the options*
Diego: *takes his reading glasses off and sets them aside* Your office?
Mia: *this seems to be an acceptable option; the brow unfurrows* Yeah. But only because Suzy is out today. Otherwise, she'd catch on faster than Mr. Grossberg. *smiles--it's somewhere between a bashful and a playful grin--and stands up, walking over to Diego's side of the desk. She crosses her arms* ...But put on your pants first.
Diego: *stands up, planting his fists on his hips, his grin teasing* Try and make me, kitten.
Mia: *narrows her eyes challengingly, uncrossing her arms and taking a step towards Diego*
Grossberg: *...and down the hall, where he's standing by Abigail's desk and eagerly flipping through an art brochure, Marvin Grossberg glances up. His ears have caught a faint though distinct noise from the general direction of Diego Armando's office again--*
*creeeeeak*
~~~
Diego: ... *rises slowly to his feet, looking at the desk, struck with realization* ...
Grossberg: Hrm? *apparently it's some conclusion he has not reached yet* Yes? What is it?
Diego: *snaps back to reality* Nothing. It's nothing. You mentioned some boxes?
Grossberg: Ah, yes--just a moment, I'll go tell Abigail to fetch them from storage. *turns on his heels, and walks out of the room*
Diego: *watches his former employer leave before turning back to the desk and grinning wistfully* Good times.
Grossberg: *is about halfway down the hall when a sudden thought strikes--it temporarily transfixes him to where he is standing. The expression on his aged, rotund face changes from surprise, to horror, to a blustered indignation*
Grossberg: *hmphs, straightening his already stretched lapels* The--the nerve! That desk must be changed out immediately--and burned! *and shaking his head he storms off, off to inform his secretary*
Grossberg: *without glancing up from the paper* Hrum. Any messages for me today, Abigail?
Abigail: *looks up over the edges of her rectangular horn-rimmed glasses, eyebrows already knitting* Yes, sir. In fact, you have a visitor waiting for you.
Grossberg: Hmm? *advances towards his office, still not glancing up from the front page of the paper* Isn't Stevens, is it? He told me he was dropping by on the fifteenth...
Abigail: No, sir. It isn't Stevens. Today is the ninth. I think it's only fair to warn you that this visitor may not be happy to see you.
Grossberg: Oh, pish posh. *makes a hard right before his office door, to a desk with coffee and snacks on it. He grabs a donut with his free hand-- still not looking up from his paper--and the crumbs fly forth from his mouth as he speaks* Something go awry with his case? Did we lose it? Did he talk to the DeLite fellow?
Abigail: No, sir, he isn't a client and he hasn't spoken to Mr. DeLite, but - *takes a moment to watch the crumbs rain from his ridiculous mustache and dirty the carpet, which she will almost certainly have to vacuum later. She adjusts her glasses again, eyes narrowing* Actually, sir? You should probably go right in. I'll bring by some coffee.
Grossberg: Mm! Thank you, my girl! *and with half a donut still balanced in his mouth he dusts off his hand on his suit jacket, carefully folds up his newspaper and and opens up his office door (getting some icing powder on the handle as he does so as well)*
Abigail: *one side of her mouth crooks up in the closest thing she's had to a smile in hours*
Diego: *Diego Armando is sitting in Grossberg's office - not in a chair, as one might expect, but on top of his desk, one leg crossed over the other, both hands resting on his knee. He does not move as Grossberg enters* Hello, Marvin.
Grossberg: *is three quarters of the way to his desk before he realizes that something is amiss--that in fact, there is a someone--a particular someone sitting on his mahogany workspace* *the donut halfway in his mouth drops to the carpeted floor with a soft thud*
Diego: *stands up, actually taller standing than sitting on the desk, and puts his hands in his pockets as he takes the few steps over to Grossberg. He towers over the rounder man, looking down at him with a face as cold as stone* You shouldn't play with your food.
Grossberg: A-Armando! *gapes up at the taller man for a great many seconds-- then sags, quivering* W...what are you doing here?!
Diego: *grins* I am here for what's mine, Marvin.
Grossberg: *winces, pales and then his legs give way as he collapses on the floor. He brings his arms futilely up in an attempt to shield himself* T-take whatever you want! Just don't hurt me!
Diego: *after a moment his grin falls away, momentarily replaced by a sneer - and then that falls away too, until he's just frowning* For God's sake, man, I'm not here to rob you. I just remembered that I never cleaned out my desk. *reaches down with one hand* Here, get up.
Grossberg: Oh-- oh. *even after that reassurance Grossberg doesn't seem fully at ease--he spends several seconds locating his donut on the floor (it's right in front of him) before he takes Diego's hand and attempts to heave himself back to standing*
Diego: *braces himself harder before grabbing Grossberg's wrist with his free hand, heaving the rotund man up as hard as he can without dislocating Grossberg's shoulder or breaking his own back* Hrnng - have you gained weight?
Grossberg: Gained-- no, no. *a beat* Well, yes, perhaps a few pounds. These last years were quite hard on me. I'm not the man I was. *is still panting quite hard, in part perhaps due to the exertion of standing, in part still suffering from his shock*
Diego: *resists the urge to wipe his hand off on his pant leg, instead putting it back into his pocket* I'd say you're more man now than you've ever been. *sighs through his teeth* Did you put all of my things into storage?
Grossberg: No, no. I did nothing of the sort. *though he's calming down each moment Diego does not make a lunge at him, the anxiety is still quite evident in the manner he's crumbling the remaining portion of the donut in his fingers (and sneaking the occasional mouthful as he speaks)* It's all still in your office, which Abigail has kept in good order. *sighs, a few crumbs scattering onto his lapels* Would you like to go see?
Diego: *it's impossible to tell if he's staring at the display before him* Yeah. I think it's in order. You want to lead the way?
Grossberg: Hrm. ...Yes, yes, of course. *and in something of a scamper--as much as a man his age and weight can scamper--he leads the way out of his office. Outside, in the main area, he shoots a look towards the direction of Abigail's desk, but the secretary doesn't so much as glance up from her paperwork*
Grossberg: *the room they head to is only a few feet away--one of its walls is adjacent to Grossberg's own office, it seems. The door is closed, but opens easily enough when the old attorney tries it. Inside, the office is spotless, not even dusty, though the general feeling in the air is that the space has not been used in a long while*
Diego: *in spite of that, something has changed - something so deeply ingrained in the identity of the room that, when he steps in, Diego Armando is temporarily bewildered. Then he inhales through his nose, smelling deeply of the cleaner that Abigail has been using* Smells like... lemons.
Grossberg: *seems rather pleased by the implication, and beams for the first time since seeing Diego today* Indeed, my boy! A pleasant scent, isn't it? Ah... the days of my youth...
Diego: *looks down at the back of Grossberg's head*
Grossberg: *tenses slightly, sensing the look without even having turned around to see it. Two beats of awkward silence pass* E-err... So. Yes, your things... as you can see, they're all still quite in place.
Diego: *strides past him, tracing a finger along the edge of his desk. He looks around the office for a moment, eyes tracing a wide circle, before looking at the desk again. Then he grins* Yeah. I'd say so.
Grossberg: You'll want to be clearing the room out, then. *glances towards the door* I'll have Abigail fetch some empty boxes.
Diego: Yeah. *not really paying attention anymore, he leans his weight onto the desk, which creaks under a long-absent strain*
Grossberg: A-ah! *his head whips back remarkably fast* That... that noise! *his features change from surprised... to confused... to vaguely accusing*
Diego: Hm? *takes his weight off, then presses down again, earning a long, slow, and rather loud creak* This?
Grossberg: Yes! That noise! That contemptible--that hideous creaking noise that has not left my mind in the entirety of the last decade! *marches on over in a huff* I've had three repairmen in here and none of them could determine the source, much less identify how it occurs. And even when I knew you would never be returning to the office I did NOT want another person in here--I did not want to take the chance!
Diego: *steps away from the desk, momentarily taken aback - this fussy old man suddenly sounds like his fussy old boss* Chance of what?
Grossberg: *fumes-- you can almost see the steam escaping his ears as he rises to his full, rotund height in front of Diego* HEARING THAT SOUND AGAIN!
Diego: *looks down at him for a beat*
Grossberg: *looks Diego dead in the visor... from below*
Diego: *looks at the desk again, suddenly curious because he's never noticed this sound before in his life* Hm. I wonder what would have been causing it while I was in here.
Grossberg: *blinks* You... you mean to say you don't know?! Good gods, Armando--surely you were the one who had been causing it this whole time? If I had known you enjoyed such mischief, why... I would have fired you upon the spot!
Diego: *turns his head - slowly - to look at the older man* Really.
Grossberg: ........
Grossberg: *sags, glancing away almost ashamedly* Well. No. No, you were too fine an attorney for that. But I would have asked you to stop.
Diego: Thank you, Marvin. *the thanks is genuine, if begrudging - he hasn't heard somebody say that about his skills as an attorney for years. Still, he turns his attention back to the desk, kneeling next to it and looking at the wood* Still, I wonder what-
~~~
*creeeeeeeak*
Grossberg: *glances up inquisitively from where he is sitting, a heaping spoonful of caviar midway to his mouth. The rest of the tin of caviar rests in front of him on his desk*
*creak.... creak..... creak*
Grossberg: ... *sets down his spoon and pushes to his feet, tilting his ear*
*creak... creak.... creak creak creak creak*
Grossberg: *checks about his office carefully, all along the bookshelves, and the wall where his beloved painting is hanging-- it seems like he's done this before, as he seems to grow increasingly agitated as the noise continues*
*creak creak creak creakcreakcreakcreak*
Grossberg: *had been placing his ear against the wall--when the sound increases in tempo yet again he stomps his foot in exasperation* Oooohhhh! *marches out the door and heads all of five steps down the hallway, to the office adjacent to his* Armando? Armando! *raps his knuckles loudly upon the attorney's door*
Diego: *there is the sound of a chair scraping against the floor, a moment of silence, and then:* Come in.
Grossberg: *with quite an irritated sigh, he turns the handle of the door and steps into the room* Armando! Armando, I wasn't sure at first, but over the course of the last few weeks, I have finally determined-- ... *he trails off, blinking*
Diego: *looks up from behind his desk, wearing a pair of reading glasses, with a case file in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other* Determined what, Marvin?
Mia: *is sitting on the other side of the desk, on the seat typically used by clients. She looks up from writing something on a notepad and turns to look at the old lawyer as well* Yes, Mr. Grossberg?
Grossberg: *squints his eyes and turns his head, as if trying to locate some sound* ......... *he walks towards the desk, towards the wall that adjoins his office*
Diego: *doesn't rise, instead following Grossberg with his eyes* We were just discussing some ancillary details of State vs. Fawles. I think we might be onto the last leg of this whole thing, Marvin. It will be the biggest triumph in the history of the firm.
Grossberg: *this seems to pull him out of whatever train of thought he had been having-- he looks to Diego and beams* Well! Well, well. I'm quite pleased. The investigation has certainly taken a while, but if it will be as successful as you say... it will be worth it in the end. You two have been working so very diligently on this case. *turns to look at Mia* Mia, I have to offer my congratulations to you as well.
Mia: ...Thank you, Mr. Grossberg. *seems a little fidgety, or a little distracted--she twiddles the pen in her fingers and looks down at the notepad on the desk*
Diego: *grins wolfishly over the desk* Don't be so modest, kitten. There's no way that anyone but you could be at the head of this case. *turns his attention back to Grossberg* Is there anything that needs my attention? *he lets the fact that he's busy hang in the air*
Grossberg: Hm? Oh, yes. *frowns deeply, spinning back to the wall* I was so sure-- but now, in here, I can't-- Hrm. It's nothing, nothing, my boy. Carry on with your work, both of you. *walks back over to the door, looking quite absentminded*
Diego: Yes, sir. Call me if you need anything. *raises his mug in a salute to Grossberg's back, still grinning wide*
Grossberg: *as he walks out the door* I will, my boy. *shuts the door behind him*
Mia: *lets out a sigh of relief--but it's barely even exhaled before the door is opened again and she tenses*
Diego: *lowers his coffee mug and cocks an eyebrow*
Grossberg: *poking his head in the door, with his eyes narrowed suspiciously* The two of you have been quite hard at work lately. If I recall correctly... you already had a talk in your office this morning, correct?
Diego: Yes, we did.
Grossberg: *with an almost accusing tone* And yesterday evening... at about six-thirty? And perhaps yesterday afternoon, at three? And two.
Mia: *hurriedly, looking at Diego* Actually, Mr. Grossberg, the last two were just one, rather long meeting, really--
Grossberg: *interjecting* And noontime?
Diego: *holds up his hand* Marvin.
Grossberg: Hrm?
Diego: *holds up two fingers* In the first place, you pay me very well, and I intend to give you your money's worth.
Grossberg: *as if he has just realized this fact, and is pleased* ...Hrm! Why yes, I suppose I do.
Diego: *holds up one finger* In the second, not all of our meetings have been about State vs. Fawles.
Mia: *shoots a look at Diego*
Grossberg: Oh! Oh, you don't say! *seems almost ecstatic from the news* Well, well! Well then, I leave it in your capable hands--both your capable hands. *blinks* What have the other meetings been about?
Diego: *lowers his hand to the file* There's a certain art dealer who will be having a gallery showing in two weeks. I took the liberty of giving Abigail all of the information. You should have your reservation confirmed by four o'clock this afternoon.
Grossberg: *the gasp of delight is almost a girlish squeal* A-Armando...!!! You shouldn't have!
Diego: *grin!* Please, boss. Go enjoy yourself. I know there are arrangements you need to make.
Grossberg: Yes, yes. I'll go do so, immediately--! *and everything else conveniently forgotten he immediately closes the door, off to speak to his secretary about the most wonderful event in a tremendous hurry*
Diego: *exhales slowly* You know, the old man is a bother, but it does me good to see him so excited. *rises up from behind his desk - he is not wearing pants, and his boxers are as red as blood* Should we call it a day?
Mia: *gives a sigh of relief again, this time burying her head in her hands* Yes. That was too close.
Diego: *grins, standing triumphantly - and then taking his seat again* Your call, kitten.
Mia: *hesitates, her brow furrowing slightly as she weighs the options*
Diego: *takes his reading glasses off and sets them aside* Your office?
Mia: *this seems to be an acceptable option; the brow unfurrows* Yeah. But only because Suzy is out today. Otherwise, she'd catch on faster than Mr. Grossberg. *smiles--it's somewhere between a bashful and a playful grin--and stands up, walking over to Diego's side of the desk. She crosses her arms* ...But put on your pants first.
Diego: *stands up, planting his fists on his hips, his grin teasing* Try and make me, kitten.
Mia: *narrows her eyes challengingly, uncrossing her arms and taking a step towards Diego*
Grossberg: *...and down the hall, where he's standing by Abigail's desk and eagerly flipping through an art brochure, Marvin Grossberg glances up. His ears have caught a faint though distinct noise from the general direction of Diego Armando's office again--*
*creeeeeak*
~~~
Diego: ... *rises slowly to his feet, looking at the desk, struck with realization* ...
Grossberg: Hrm? *apparently it's some conclusion he has not reached yet* Yes? What is it?
Diego: *snaps back to reality* Nothing. It's nothing. You mentioned some boxes?
Grossberg: Ah, yes--just a moment, I'll go tell Abigail to fetch them from storage. *turns on his heels, and walks out of the room*
Diego: *watches his former employer leave before turning back to the desk and grinning wistfully* Good times.
Grossberg: *is about halfway down the hall when a sudden thought strikes--it temporarily transfixes him to where he is standing. The expression on his aged, rotund face changes from surprise, to horror, to a blustered indignation*
Grossberg: *hmphs, straightening his already stretched lapels* The--the nerve! That desk must be changed out immediately--and burned! *and shaking his head he storms off, off to inform his secretary*