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witticasterMoar fic. big surprise. This one is decidedly unsubtle and probably not very good, but hey. >>;
On some level, Julius knows what's going to happen well before it occurs.
Benny sleeps late, as requested. Kay kissed him at the doorway like a housewife and promised to show up around eleven that morning, leaving him to face a silent ride, full of vague, unsettled thoughts, down to work. But Julius arrives on time and in one of his better suits, and realizes walking in that his presence, though overlooked the morning Pabst announced the photo shoot, is decidedly unwanted at nine in the morning this Monday.
Herb looks up and greets him, with a decidedly self-satisfied sort of expression, one that makes it impossible to guess whether he expected Julius to show up or not.
Albert smiles at him, too, but with the beginnings of a frown on his forehead. "Morning, Jules. Thought you and Kay were taking a half-day."
The easy smile on Julius's face grows pained in an instant. He has no idea how to answer, and more the fool him for that. He's very nearly thankful when Pabst comes in the room, does a double-take at Julius' presence, and says, "Oh."
Nothing else. Just oh, at least for a moment or two. Straightening up, Julius fingers his cigarette holder and says, "Good morning, Mr. Pabst." He tries not to feel like a child caught stealing biscuits before dinner. It doesn't work.
"Morning," he answers, and glances down to thumb through the stack of papers he's carrying. "Say...can you do me a favour, Julius? Run across the street and see if they've got the paperwork I asked them for last week. Fiftieth floor."
Before Julius can attempt to argue, Pabst is back into his office, and unnecessarily so: Julius had no intention of contradicting him. He'd rather leave quietly now than endure a scene when the photographer arrives.
As he heads out the door, Herb calls out, "We'll hold the picture for you!" and Julius is doubly glad that he's been given the opportunity to be excluded gracefully.
When there are no tax returns for Incredible Tales magazine on the fiftieth floor in the building across the street, Julius is unsurprised. It's better this way, he thinks as he heads down to the nearest deli he knows will sell to him. A picture of him without Kay is not only a lie, it's selfish. She works just as hard on their stories as he does; they should receive equal recognition for their work, even if it means their readers have no idea what either of them look like. They're readers--let them use their imaginations.
He doesn't feel any better until he returns forty-five minutes later, however, to find Albert loosening his tie and Darlene greeting him with, "Oh, Jules, you just missed him. I guess that's what you get for dawdlin', huh?"
They're ever equals in their profession, he and Kay. It's cold comfort, but at least it's almost fair, after a fashion.
On some level, Julius knows what's going to happen well before it occurs.
Benny sleeps late, as requested. Kay kissed him at the doorway like a housewife and promised to show up around eleven that morning, leaving him to face a silent ride, full of vague, unsettled thoughts, down to work. But Julius arrives on time and in one of his better suits, and realizes walking in that his presence, though overlooked the morning Pabst announced the photo shoot, is decidedly unwanted at nine in the morning this Monday.
Herb looks up and greets him, with a decidedly self-satisfied sort of expression, one that makes it impossible to guess whether he expected Julius to show up or not.
Albert smiles at him, too, but with the beginnings of a frown on his forehead. "Morning, Jules. Thought you and Kay were taking a half-day."
The easy smile on Julius's face grows pained in an instant. He has no idea how to answer, and more the fool him for that. He's very nearly thankful when Pabst comes in the room, does a double-take at Julius' presence, and says, "Oh."
Nothing else. Just oh, at least for a moment or two. Straightening up, Julius fingers his cigarette holder and says, "Good morning, Mr. Pabst." He tries not to feel like a child caught stealing biscuits before dinner. It doesn't work.
"Morning," he answers, and glances down to thumb through the stack of papers he's carrying. "Say...can you do me a favour, Julius? Run across the street and see if they've got the paperwork I asked them for last week. Fiftieth floor."
Before Julius can attempt to argue, Pabst is back into his office, and unnecessarily so: Julius had no intention of contradicting him. He'd rather leave quietly now than endure a scene when the photographer arrives.
As he heads out the door, Herb calls out, "We'll hold the picture for you!" and Julius is doubly glad that he's been given the opportunity to be excluded gracefully.
When there are no tax returns for Incredible Tales magazine on the fiftieth floor in the building across the street, Julius is unsurprised. It's better this way, he thinks as he heads down to the nearest deli he knows will sell to him. A picture of him without Kay is not only a lie, it's selfish. She works just as hard on their stories as he does; they should receive equal recognition for their work, even if it means their readers have no idea what either of them look like. They're readers--let them use their imaginations.
He doesn't feel any better until he returns forty-five minutes later, however, to find Albert loosening his tie and Darlene greeting him with, "Oh, Jules, you just missed him. I guess that's what you get for dawdlin', huh?"
They're ever equals in their profession, he and Kay. It's cold comfort, but at least it's almost fair, after a fashion.
