I'm No Good At Titles

"Here's twenty dollars. Could you grab me a cup of coffee and a scone from the cafe next door?" he asked, fishing in his pocket for the money. He pulled his wallet. Flipping it open, he managed to find a twenty and he held it out for Mak, his dark eyes already searching through the next email. He was always working, always on the next thing as he tried to get ahead of the game.

Mak tilted his head slightly. "What kind of coffee and what kind of scone?" he asked, a bit too loudly. His voice sounded feminine. Mak made a weird breathing noise and shied away from Logan. He quickly took the twenty and dashed into the elevator, sweating and blushing like crazy. You're horrible at first impressions. Not even hopping over and humping him would have made it worse. Mak condescended himself in his head as the elevator doors opened and he strutted out of the building. He bounced down the sidewalk, confident now that he was away from the scary Austins family and the prissy business people. Mak entered the cafe and decided to get Logan a very large coffee with a little bit of sugar and a little bit of cream. He made it gigantic because he wanted his boss to stay energetic. Until, you know, the crash. He noticed one of the male waiters eyeballing him. Mak shot him a flirtatious smile and winked shyly. They had a nice conversation that I'm too lazy to detail and Mak got a date tomorrow date. The waiter paid for Mak's scones (he got two lemon poppy seed scones, one for himself and one for Logan) and he left the cafe with a big grin on his face. As soon as he entered the building, he tried to stifle it, but it was extremely difficult. Mak's love life had been nonexistent for a while, and he was very excited about the date. He rode the elevator along with a bunch of up-tight, pole-straight, suited employees up to the 42nd floor. They gave him strange looks and it killed his good mood. Gloomily, he walked over to Logan's desk, though he had some difficult finding it without Mr. Austins Sr. Mak hid his not-so-much-sadness and placed the coffee and bag of scones of his desk. "I hope it's okay I got a scone for myself... oh! You're change." He handed Logan two dollars and twenty-four cents, not noticing that he was talking rather loudly. Mak took a scone out of the bag and sat on the floor. As he ate, he did a few pikes but refrained from doing sit-ups, push-ups, or butterflies.

Logan took a sip of the coffee and continued his work diligently. His eyes fluttered up to Mak, and he said, "I've ordered a desk for you. Sorry, you'll have to sit on the floor for a couple days, but it should be here by Friday. That's not too bad." He continued clicking through emails until he only had fifty some left. With a sigh, he pushed back from his desk, finally taking out the scone. He took a bite. A couple of crumbs dotted his mouth. "Could you go to the front desk on this floor and ask for my mail? Cathy should be there, and if you're bored, you can help her. Or you can just bring my mail back and sit there. Whatever floats your boat."

Mak nodded. "It's okay," he thought. "I don't mind sitting on the floor." He had to sell his couch, chairs, and bed, so he usually sat and slept on the floor. Mak stood as soon as Logan finished speaking. Playfully, he stood at attention like a soldier and then marched to the front desk, but not without taking a pen from Logan's desk. When he arrived, a lady behind the counter asked him what he needed. Mak wrote, 'Mr. Austins Jr.'s mail, please.' on his hand and showed his palm to the lady. She handed him a bunch of envelopes and when Mak picked them up, he pretended to collapse under the weight, earning a small smile from the lady. He nodded a thank you and returned to Logan's desk, dropping the stuff next to his computer and sitting down.

Max flicked through the envelopes, more than half of them ending up in the trash can without even being opened. He was left with a small stack of four or five large, manila envelopes and fifteen or twenty smaller ones. He tossed five of the smaller envelopes into a box by his desk. They were colorful envelopes, each letters from a family member, past girlfriend, or high school acquaintance. The big cardboard box was nearly full of letters of this sort. He refused to open them. They were almost always asking for money or a job. He had other places that he needed to focus his energy on.
"Could you go through those and put them with the other letters from the same people. Then take them to the next room. There's filing cabinets full of them," he mumbled, going through the first envelope. It was an employee report on someone who needed to be fired.

Mak blinked at how fast he sorted through his mail, but his eyes quickly drifted downwards. He shook his head and peered into the cardboard box. "Don't you think you should read those? They look like they're from your friends and family... what if there is something really important? What if your... your uncle died, or your cousin is having a baby, or... or your grandparents are getting divorced?" he asked. Upon hearing the filing cabinet part, his eyes got wide. "Whole... whole filing cabinets?"

"There's nothing wrong. If something bad happens in the family, they'll call my dad. I'd find out through the grapevine," he said blandly. "Plus, I don't really get on well with my family, so I could care less." He read through the report and groaned quietly. His dark eyes flickered up, "And on your way over, tell Cathy to come in here. I really need to talk to her about some stuff. It's really important. Thanks kid."

Mak nodded, though he didn't really appreciate being called 'kid'. He picked up the box and walked into the other room, filing them and putting them away as quick as he could, wanting to make Logan's day easier. Once he was finished he returned to the front desk and tapped on it lightly for Cathy's attention. "Yes?" she asked. Mak cleared his throat and blinked. "I, uh, er, would like to see you in his office," he whispered, shuffling around nervously. While Mak thought that Cathy could be considered pretty to some people, he was still more attracted to men than women, and was not nervous because of her. He didn't like strangers much, especially when they weren't particularly attractive.

When Cathy walked in, Logan leaned back in his chair a bit. He pressed his index fingers against his seemingly throbbing temples, massaging circles into his skin. With a sigh, he let his eyes flutter up to meet hers. His dark eyes were exhausted, but he refused to take a break. This was the closest to a break that he ever gave himself.
"Cathy... I got an employee report on James in accounting. He's been slacking, missing a lot of work. Normally I wouldn't be too terribly concerned, but it's really slowing the company down. I can't have any liabilities here. Jack still is in control, and if I allow any slack in the corporation, I'll be out of a job. We have to look our best right now if we want this deal with Japan. I hate to do this, though..." he mumbled, his hands going over his mouth.
He was never a fan of firing an empolyee. He knew about each of them, if they had a family to support. He knew for a fact that James was newly married and his wife was pregnant with twins. He would feel awful, putting the man out a job while he was in his current situation.
"So the tin man has a heart," Cathy said with a sly grin. "I'll look for an opening in any of our sister companies. I know James was talking about his wife wanting to move out of the city at the last dinner party. I'm sure one of our more rural office would be much more suited for them."
"You're a life saver."

Mak decided to explore some of the 42nd floor. He walked around some of the offices and peeked into them before getting shooed away. He found the coffee maker, a bathroom, and a window showing the view of an exotic club billboard. After he had entertained himself enough, he returned to Logan's office. Mak sat on the floor and eased himself into a forwards splits position. He popped his neck, fingers, and elbows, since elbows were the easiest for him when he was doing the splits.

Cathy left, offering mak a polite smile as she exited the room. She immediately went to her desk, calling up the first of many of their branches. If there was one thing that Logan always believed in, it was keeping on good employees. She also knew, though, he had a mind to face reality when there were no other options. He wasn't afraid of the truth, rather he avoided it in a slightly timid way. It was good to know that he had some amiability in his body, unlike his father.
"So many things to do," Logan mumbled to himself, his fingers gripping at the short strands of his light hair. Then his mind jumped into a realization. He looked up, his dark eyes meeting Mak's. "What's the date," he whispered, his voice emotionless. He didn't keep track of time well, not while he was on one of his work-kicks. He could go a week with scarcely anything to eat or drink, and believe he'd only been in the office a couple days.

Mak blinked. "Umm... August 3rd," he said, leaning to the side and moving his legs into a criss-cross position. Mak, instead of saying 3rd, held up three fingers. It was a Wednesday, so in two days, Mak would be eating dinner with the cute guy from the cafe. He sighed in anticipation and stood up slowly, taking a pen from Logan's desk and drawing a smiley face on each of his fingers.

ooc: I hope August 3rd was okay D:

ooc: this post is unfinished unless you want to reply - i have to leave

August third is fine! (:

Mak blinked. "Umm... August 3rd," he said, leaning to the side and moving his legs into a criss-cross position. Mak, instead of saying 3rd, held up three fingers. It was a Wednesday, so in two days, Mak would be eating dinner with the cute guy from the cafe. He sighed in anticipation and stood up slowly, taking a pen from Logan's desk and drawing a smiley face on each of his fingers. Finished, he placed the pen back on the desk. His eyes moved onto Logan. "You don't look very well, um... sir," he squeaked. "Are you, um... ah, feeling, um.... o-okay?"

"Bloody h*ll," he growled to himself. His dark eyes flaired with anger. The fire quickly died, a mix of defeat and distress replacing it. "August third... It's August third. How is it already August third. Sh*t, it can't already be August third." He was mumbling to himself, pulling at the little strands of fine hair at the base of his neck. He looked absolutely shot, the four days of straight work catching up to his appearance. Everything about him looked way to old for his twenty-some year old body.

Mak flinched and squeaked, shuffling backwards and nearly tripping over his own fright. He took hold of the edge of Logan's desk, knuckles turning white from the grip. His body was trembling and his insides were churning. Although he was sure Mr. Austins wasn't going to do anything rash, and that he wasn't too angry, Mak was still terrified. Whenever his father had been angry, it didn't end at all well for anyone in his family. He hadn't sustained any physical wounds, but plenty of emotional wounds. Mak exhaled heavily, but it was incredibly shaky and weak. He attempted to ask if he could get him anything. His fright distorted his voice, and what was meant to be words came out as a series of huffs.

"I'm sorry. I'm so so so sorry," he whispered, his eyes catching Mak. He seemed to be speaking to Mak, but someone else too. His eyes were lidded with exhaustion, but they begged for forgiveness. Something about him seemed so broken in that moment. It was a rare sight, to see Logan as anything other than his fierce, strong, emotionless self. He really looked like a different person. It could be slightly startling, but to someone who knew him, it would strike the realization that he was, in fact a person and not a robot.

Mak continued to tremble, still a bit afraid of him, but he was beginning to calm down, melting when Logan looked at him. "It's okay," he breathed, his voice still not wanting to work. His nails, painted black to match his eyes

ooc: Not finished. I have to go.

Mak continued to tremble, still a bit afraid of him, but he was beginning to calm down, melting when Logan looked at him. "It's okay," he breathed, his voice still not wanting to work. His nails, painted black to match his eyes, began to slide off of the table as he relaxed. Mak huffed and sat down again, going into a straddle splits position. He turned his toes up, out, and forward, holding each for about thirty seconds. Mak looked around, surveying the building, and blinked, pulling his bangs out of his eyes and behind one of his ears.

"I need to..." he mumbled. "I'll be back."
He shoved away from his desk and stood. His gait was slightly clumsy due to the fact that he hadn't slept or eaten much of anything in the past few days. He managed to get out of the room without falling over. He was gone for around forty-five minutes. When he came back, his dark eyes were lightly glazed over with alcohol. His strides were steady again, strong and intimidating as ever. His whole stance was taut, though. And if you looked close, you could still see the exhaustion and distress in his every movement.

Mak nodded and watched him leave. When he came back, Mak's skin became drained of color. He was glad that his contacts didn't allow Logan to see the extreme fear in his eyes. He quickly stood and moved out of his way, not wanting to bear the brunt of the ill effects of alcohol. Mak uttered a small squeak, feeling very dizzy and lightheaded. He began to regret taking this job. Though he was very cute, he wasn't sure how he would deal with an anorexic, alcoholic insomniac for a boss. He sat on the floor and scooted as far away from Logan as possible, hoping to be out of his sight and out of his mind. Mak moved into lotus position and placed his hands on his knees, watching Logan to see if he would need to escape.

"Damien needs some help. He'll come get you in a second," Logan muttered, staring absently at the ceiling. His dark eyes traveled over the lines on above him, his head bent back at a slightly unnatural angle. When he breathed, he hardly even moved. If you were none the wiser, you may believe that he was dead.
Suddenly, the silence was broken by a quiet knocking. Someone who looked to be the same age as Logan, stood in the door frame, a charming smile brightening his face. He had an unkempt look to him, one that starkly contrasted to Logan's sleek, professional appearance. His blue eyes were twinkling dangerously, and his blond hair was a mess.
"You must be Mak?" he said, his voice rough but warm.

Mak's head tilted back so that he could look up at the tall Damien. He nodded and unfolded his legs, standing awkwardly and smiling a small smile at Damien. Standing at a mere 5' 7", most people towered over Mak, contributing to his shyness. Luckily he was fast and agile, so if anything dangerous happened, he could usually escape. Several things required his speed and grace had occurred, but we shan't get into that. Mak subtly looked Damien up and down again. He was also frightening, but not as scary as Logan. Or at least, not yet. Why is everyone here so scary...

ooc: I've always wanted to use the word shan't c:

"I'm Damien, but Logan probably already told you that, yeah?" His eyes flickered from Mak to the distracted man sitting behind the desk. He was going over another job report, but his whole being was disconnected with his body. He moved in slow motion, as though he were underwater. "We'll, if you'd like to come with me, I'll teach you the ins and outs of this place," he said with a quirky grin.
Logan glanced up from his work. His voice a low, warning grumble as he said, "Don't get into trouble, Damien. One more run-in with security and I have to fire you." His gaze was pointed as he added, "And I'd really rather not lose my assistant on the first day. I've already terrified him enough."
"Gotcha, boss. I'll go easy on the kid," he said lightly.

Mak began to sweat. His cheeks turned completely red. It felt like there was a rock in his throat. He popped his knuckles nervously and blinked, looking at Damien. "O-okay," he whispered, looking away from him and deciding to focus on something else, anything else. He saw a tiny feather floating around, and watched it as he followed Damien. As he walked past, the feather "poofed" away suddenly, now several feet away from its original spot. Mak quickly scooped it into his hand, expecting to miss it and poof it further away, but he made a fist and shook it lightly, feeling something tickle his fingers. He smiled, not used to catching an air feather.