Fang
Active member
Nat stood in front of an enormous mirror, a look of displeasure deeply etched into his features as he studied his appearance. His usually wild hair had been tamed down to a slick bun, and his usual attire had been abandoned for a silk lined suit that had been tailored to fit him perfectly. Even then, mere moments before he was to depart for the gala, a tailor made infinitesimal adjustments to the way the clothes clung and fell about Nat’s frame.
”Remember, you’re representing your father’s interests here. Many of the attendees are long term clients who appreciate strong family bonds. For the love of God, Nathaniel. Try to smile and at least look like you are enjoying yourself.”
Nat turned, the tailor at his heel pivoting silently and following his motion as the teen faced the woman who spoke to him. Her features were as sharp as her voice, all angles and hooked nose, adorned with rectangular glasses that she wore so low Nat couldn’t understand how they served any purpose.
”Aren’t you the one who usually handles these things?” Julia Freidman was practically his father’s right hand, and was usually entrusted with whatever matters he didn’t have time for himself.
”I’m not an Amagiri, Nathaniel.” Nat hated the way she called him by his full name, a trait all of his father’s cronies seemed to carry. ”We considered letting your grandfather handle this one, but…”
Julia didn’t need to finish the thought. Nat sighed and the tailor stepped away. A look was exchanged between Julia and the tailor, a soft shrug from the latter spurring the former into action. Like a whirlwind of bony limbs the woman swept Nat toward the door, hand to her ear as she spoke to his security detail.
”Baby Bird is ready to fly. Pull the car around.” Sometimes Nat thought she made up those little codenames just to piss him off. A shove to his back caused Nat to stumble as he stepped into the elevator, though he turned with a polite smile before the doors closed. Just quick enough to flip Julia a middle finger for good luck.
Less than five minutes later and Nat’s face was already tired from holding that same, false smile as an older man rattled on and on about something Nat had stopped listening to nearly as soon as he had spoken. The old man clearly knew him, had even called to him as Nat as though they spoke often. Nat had no clue who he was, but had waved and thus opened the door to this particular form of torture.
”And you know what my granddaughter told me, young man? She told me I was cringe! Now I might not be hip to the way kids talk but even I know that was not kind! I took that Mercedes right back to the lot and told her she could keep driving last year’s model while she thought about how cringe I was.” The old man began to laugh, though at first Nat thought it was a dry cough.
Awkwardly Nat tried to chuckle as well, the laughter that he forced out so obviously fake that someone nearby turned to stare. It did nothing to dissuade the old man’s humor, though, as he clapped Nat on the shoulder and coughed even harder.
”Kids these days should have respect for their elders.” Nat was fairly certain the old man’s granddaughter was at least a few years older than him, but he seemed to have spoken the correct passphrase to earn the man’s approval.
”Quite right, quite. If only more of them were like you, Nat. You’re always so polite, indulging old men like me.” For a moment Nat felt guilty for his inability to remember the man’s name. ”Ah, I should let you get to the party! No sense in wasting any more of your youth with my dusty old self. Go mingle!” It was the second time Nat was shoved forward that evening, and he didn’t appreciate it any more.
He offered a polite nod and a smile, though, before he made a beeline for what acted as concessions at the little soirée. He snatched a glass of wine, daring someone to stop him as he drank its entirety in a few gulps. He hated these things, rubbing elbows with people who knew nothing of the world beyond their pocketbooks. Silently he prayed for some rescue, some tragedy to befall the party that would, at the very least, be more enjoyable than this.
”Remember, you’re representing your father’s interests here. Many of the attendees are long term clients who appreciate strong family bonds. For the love of God, Nathaniel. Try to smile and at least look like you are enjoying yourself.”
Nat turned, the tailor at his heel pivoting silently and following his motion as the teen faced the woman who spoke to him. Her features were as sharp as her voice, all angles and hooked nose, adorned with rectangular glasses that she wore so low Nat couldn’t understand how they served any purpose.
”Aren’t you the one who usually handles these things?” Julia Freidman was practically his father’s right hand, and was usually entrusted with whatever matters he didn’t have time for himself.
”I’m not an Amagiri, Nathaniel.” Nat hated the way she called him by his full name, a trait all of his father’s cronies seemed to carry. ”We considered letting your grandfather handle this one, but…”
Julia didn’t need to finish the thought. Nat sighed and the tailor stepped away. A look was exchanged between Julia and the tailor, a soft shrug from the latter spurring the former into action. Like a whirlwind of bony limbs the woman swept Nat toward the door, hand to her ear as she spoke to his security detail.
”Baby Bird is ready to fly. Pull the car around.” Sometimes Nat thought she made up those little codenames just to piss him off. A shove to his back caused Nat to stumble as he stepped into the elevator, though he turned with a polite smile before the doors closed. Just quick enough to flip Julia a middle finger for good luck.
Less than five minutes later and Nat’s face was already tired from holding that same, false smile as an older man rattled on and on about something Nat had stopped listening to nearly as soon as he had spoken. The old man clearly knew him, had even called to him as Nat as though they spoke often. Nat had no clue who he was, but had waved and thus opened the door to this particular form of torture.
”And you know what my granddaughter told me, young man? She told me I was cringe! Now I might not be hip to the way kids talk but even I know that was not kind! I took that Mercedes right back to the lot and told her she could keep driving last year’s model while she thought about how cringe I was.” The old man began to laugh, though at first Nat thought it was a dry cough.
Awkwardly Nat tried to chuckle as well, the laughter that he forced out so obviously fake that someone nearby turned to stare. It did nothing to dissuade the old man’s humor, though, as he clapped Nat on the shoulder and coughed even harder.
”Kids these days should have respect for their elders.” Nat was fairly certain the old man’s granddaughter was at least a few years older than him, but he seemed to have spoken the correct passphrase to earn the man’s approval.
”Quite right, quite. If only more of them were like you, Nat. You’re always so polite, indulging old men like me.” For a moment Nat felt guilty for his inability to remember the man’s name. ”Ah, I should let you get to the party! No sense in wasting any more of your youth with my dusty old self. Go mingle!” It was the second time Nat was shoved forward that evening, and he didn’t appreciate it any more.
He offered a polite nod and a smile, though, before he made a beeline for what acted as concessions at the little soirée. He snatched a glass of wine, daring someone to stop him as he drank its entirety in a few gulps. He hated these things, rubbing elbows with people who knew nothing of the world beyond their pocketbooks. Silently he prayed for some rescue, some tragedy to befall the party that would, at the very least, be more enjoyable than this.
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