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Elan’s coffee arrives in a glossy red coffee cup, because everything in this company has to be red, of course. Except for the coffee itself which is…dark. Not black…dark brown? Having been attached to the corporate world since the Peil AI selection singled him out, one would think that such an important figure as Elan Ceres—the legal one, to be specific about it—would be a caffeine enjoyer.
But no. He likes the smell, he likes it when it’s ice cream or cake but…as a drink?
“Oh? I thought you didn’t like coffee?” An astute observation made by Secelia Dote.
“You know what they say.” Elan takes the creamer from the dainty tray set down between himself and his colleague and pours a generous amount into his cup. “There’s a first time for everything. Want some?” He offers the tiny jar to Secelia.
Secelia’s brow makes a gradual incline. “Did you even leave some? Your coffee is practically white now.” As opposed to hers which has remained true to its natural color.
Elan shrugs it off with an easy laugh, lifting his cup carefully because actually, all that creamer has caused his coffee to rise dangerously closely to the rim. “I’m of the belief that slow and steady wins the race. As a budding coffee lover, I should take my time, shouldn’t I?” He takes a sip.
Horrible. Tasteless. Bitter. What did the creamer even do? There is absolutely no saving grace for this bean water drink.
Elan sets down his cup, maintaining his smile. “Before you know it, I’ll be a connoisseur. I’m a fast learner, after all.”
“For your information, fast learners don’t take it slow and steady,” Secelia snorts, a derisive note hiding like a burglar just underneath her smile. She might cover it up well but not from Elan. Elan knows it’s there, he can see through it. She takes an expert sip from her cup before she returns it almost soundlessly to her plate.
Elan’s hand twitches. How—how does she do that? How does one look completely in control of the foul thing—
He snaps out of his swirling thoughts when he hears someone knock. The door opens, and some face in a suit leans in to inform them that, “Apologies for the wait, but President Jeturk will be arriving in five minutes.” With Secelia sitting between himself and the door, it’s easy to see her perk up.
Elan thanks the face with a compulsory smile which disappears as soon as the door closes. Now he’s watching Secelia pull her suit straight and give her hair a little toss, like she was fluffing it up. From one of her pockets, she produces a sleek black lipstick…he’d never seen that before.
“Is that new?” he asks.
“Of course.” The words come out with a lilting melody. “Peach rose.” Peach rose, is it the new trend? Didn’t he just hear that recently? Was it from a commercial or some office gossip—
No. The realization comes with an odd twist in his stomach, like he’d just finished his food too fast after skipping a meal. But no, it was not some thing he just heard in passing, it was worse than that! Though ‘worse’ here requires a context he still hadn’t grasped, but—
The time was 8:12 in the evening. Elan, Secelia and President Jeturk had briefly discussed adjourning their extended meeting for dinner but unanimously decided against it because there was only so little left to do, anyway. President Jeturk returned to his charts, then, while Elan browsed through the words floating in his own tablet. Unseeing.
Then: “President Jeturk, I need your help to decide!” Secelia’s musical voice cut through the silence, which Elan only now realizes means she’s up to no good (which is another phrase that yet requires some mysterious context). At that time, though, he thought it was just some matter of the company so he turned to his colleague with the expectation of being allowed to speak his thoughts.
But no, she was showing her tablet to the Jeturk CEO when she asked him, “Which color do you think looks better, hm?” Before they became business partners, Elan knew that Secelia and President Jeturk attended the same club back in school. It’s no wonder, he thought, that she’s overly familiar with him, even though he doesn’t return the sentiment.
Or so Elan thought. When he saw the quirk of his brow and the frown on his lips, Elan had presumed that President Jeturk had no interest in deigning Secelia with a response. But then, he actually said, “The peach rose looks good,” after a quick deliberation.
And now it all clicks: Secelia was probably asking him which lipstick color to buy, he offered his recommendation, and now Secelia is in possession of said recommendation. This isn’t just a matter of school memories! This is…this is…
Secelia puckers her newly-painted lips on her camera and smiles at her selfie.
This is seduction! A wicked shudder runs up Elan’s spine as he fixes his glare on his half-drunk coffee which looks stupidly white now next to the real thing. She’s flirting with him, she’s bullying him because she likes him! That’s so stupid.
He picks up his cup of white coffee and slurps a mouthful. He burns his tongue in the process and flinches as the heat travels down to his chest…this thing doesn’t even taste good, why is he even trying?! And why is he so upset? Because Secelia is making advances with their business partner? Well, so it turns out, maybe someone like him actually cares about propriety in the business world, too…
Bullshit, Elan sneers. He couldn’t tell a worse joke if he was held at gunpoint. His previous employment killed people and built robots that killed people and he never batted his eyelashes on those disposable lowlifes and those hags, so why now? Why would he suddenly grow a conscience just because President Jeturk is in the picture now?
Elan glances briefly at the door that doesn’t budge, and then at the seat at the head of the long table where the man is expected to sit. Secretly, he tilts his red cup to inspect the amount of pale coffee still in it, wondering if it’s enough to put on appearances…
What the hell, and what does it matter? He wants to snarl at himself, but mostly he’s just looking nervously at Secelia who has started to sort through their materials for the meeting. The tablet is just there in front of her, not too far that she can’t reach it past the stapled sheets on her tabletop. Her coffee makes a pretty decoration at the corner of her area, along with her notepad and her phone.
As for Elan, he has nothing. Well, fuck, so what? So what if he has nothing to show for himself, this is how he’s always been! Not those Peil has-beens or Secelia or even someone like President Jeturk is going to change that…
Elan fixes his cup in front of him so that the handle points perfectly to the right. It doesn’t really make for an eye-catching tabletop, but—
Shit, what’s wrong with him? Why’s he suddenly thinking about attracting attention when he was happy to hide behind four senior citizens back in Peil? Who cares about all these useless props? The coffee tastes like shit, anyway, and the lipstick looks ordinary. If he were President Jeturk, he wouldn’t even…
Why is everything coming down to him?!
If this had happened to anyone, Elan might have burst out laughing and made a few jokes about it but no, it had to happen to him. Jumping like a cat when the door swings open, sitting absolutely paralyzed when President Jeturk finally struts in (‘Struts’, he really has the gall to strut in! Never mind that this is his boardroom—) his tablet in one hand, a takeaway cup of coffee in another. It’s not the first time he’s made such an entrance, but Elan also doesn’t remember his heart pounding and the heat creeping up to his neckline the first few times it happened.
Or the weight in his chest when Secelia sings, “President Jeturk, you sure took your time!”
To which President Jeturk responds smoothly, “My apologies. You know how it is when you’re the most wanted man in the building.” Like it’s not fair that Secelia had a head start! If he knew this meeting was going to be a contest for President Jeturk’s attention, he would have…
Wait…wait, what is he saying? Does he want it for himself? Is he attracted to him? He can’t…
He can’t have a crush on the guy, can he?!
Suddenly, the room feels like somebody switched off the air-conditioning. It doesn’t make any sense, though! As far as Elan is concerned, President Jeturk is just some guy he has to work with, but no. There’s a half-cup of pretentious coffee in front of him, and he’s like a spotlight following the main star of the show the way he can’t remove his eyes from President Jeturk’s profile. And what a long neck he has, what broad shoulders he has…
Fuck. This is what comes out of being surrounded by four ugly frogs for the past few years, isn’t it?
Elan feels like he must have swallowed an asteroid when he gulps hard. Next to him, Secelia makes a subtle nudge on her seat, bringing herself one inch closer to the prize…fuck this.
He picks up his coffee and grabs Secelia’s tablet as he goes around the table, saying, “All good! Just buy us lunch and we’ll be square, right?”
Across from him, Secelia is eying him strangely as he sits himself right beside President Jeturk, putting the man between the two of them.
His lips come up with a knowing edge. “I’ve got a place in mind. Great burgers, great pasta.” He turns to President Jeturk who has a handsome brow cocked his way and fuck, why does it feel like there’s a mobile suit ready to launch inside his chest? Stupid, stupid, stupid—! “If they know it’s me, they’ll even be generous with the portions.”
Whatever mission that hypothetical mobile suit inside him has, it’s a great success. President Jeturk responds to his invitation with an amused, “Ha!” as he taps the screen of his tablet a few times and swipes upwards. “Sounds good. I could use a burger right now, actually.”
“Then it’s decided!” Elan whips out his phone, waving it at the smiling CEO. “Just leave it to me, hm? You wonʼt regret this.” His fingers get busy, navigating to the food app. “Secelia, you’ll have the usual?” He looks up to her.
She’s glaring at him. Manicured fingers digging into the tabletop…oh, he just got in her way, didn’t he? “Yes, please,” she mutters between her gritted smile. “The usual sounds great.” Amazing. This definitely tastes sweeter than fake coffee. And in fact…he could get used to this. Call it his flavor of the month.
Elan’s smile stretches as he keys in their orders. If he somehow triggers some asinine workplace drama because of this stupid fledgling crush he has, then at least it’s because of the best-looking guy in the room and not some geriatric who looks like a raisin.
“Well, then,” President Jeturk starts, clueless of the war being fought between both trenches. “Letʼs begin, shall we?”