Nazikeda (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
osmotheque) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
adventureic2024-04-20 07:45 pm
osmotheque) wrote in adventureic2024-04-20 07:45 pm
Entry tags:
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WHO: Briar Hemming & Nazikeda
WHEN: … let’s say the beginning-ish of the month.
WHERE: Apartment 215
WHAT:In which Briar "helps" Keda practice being "interrogated." (I cannot stress enough how much no one helps or is interrogated in this.)
WARNINGS: Stupidity. (Guess who forgot to post this and had it sitting in drafts? It's me!)
Though the premise of preparing Nazikeda for potential questioning by their sketchy bosses isn't unreasonable, Briar is having a bit of a hard time taking the situation overly seriously. It's circumstantial, though, and he would argue entirely not his fault - she isn't taking it horribly seriously either. And the circumstances? Well, they're silly. He and Keda sit across from one another at their kitchen table, the single light on the one above the stove on its lowest setting so the feel of it is right (the feel being, apparently, some old timey detective interrogation). He has his hands folded. He'd given her a glass of water. He's put on a darker than usual flannel shirt. He's trying very hard to look serious.
"...anything you want to focus on? Or just general things about what everyone thinks or is talking about or whatnot?"
Given ample time to prepare and a healthy dollop of creative license - which is, one might point out, one of the overarching goals of this exercise to begin with - it could be argued that the circumstances are not at all silly and are, in fact, logical and forward-thinking. Or, with greater ease, one might just say that one thinks about the thematic appeal of noir-style filmography not entirely infrequently. But that is neither here nor there.
Here and now, as it were, Nazikeda is seated neatly and dressedfar too formally appropriately in-character for an interrogation, her shoulders held straight and lips painted dark in the low light.
"It is merely that I do not wish to look as though I am -" she rolls her eyes, catches the tip of one of her nails between her index finger and thumb. "Stumbling too long should the topic of workplace satisfaction and trust come up. It is an inconvenience at best and a liability at worst."
"Agreed."
In a different situation, where all that was at stake was workplace politics and potential hurt feelings, Briar would argue that Nazikeda has been skirting around truth long enough that she can handle this with ease. But it's hard to ignore the fact that even an honest stumble or consideration of words could be misconstrued by higher ups, if they're as bad as they currently seem. At this thought he wrinkles his nose, and then tries to channel that into… interrogation, he supposes.
"How're you feeling about the management these days?"
"Straight in with no wordplay at all, hayatım?" She bends her finger further back and then lets it tap back down to the tabletop with a click, her pout an audible thing. Philip Marlowe would never. But, all the same, one simply must rally and move forward with grace and aplomb. Even in such trying times.
Which means that Nazikeda lets out a sigh steeped in great tragedy and fixes her face back into something vaguely resembling professional. "Yes, very well.” And quickly, after allowing herself one beat to settle, she presses on: "I have no problems with my direct supervisor at present." (She has no intention of having any problems with Sharona in general. But, again, neither here nor there.) "Is there something I should be concerned with?"
"This is very serious, there's no time for wordplay," Briar argues against her complaint, but despite the fact that his tone is even there's a smile ticking at the corners of his lips. After a moment he reaches out to take her glass of water, taking a sip as he considers.
"Nothing to be concerned about; it's just come to our attention that some people might be dissatisfied. How do you feel in general about how the Society is being run?"
The contrarian within her - Or perhaps more accurately, the contrarian that she is rather entirely, chimes with vehement protest that there is always time for wordplay. But sometimes one is called upon to show rather than tell.
Nazikeda reaches forward to snag her glass back once it's within her reach, setting it back into its proper place with a crinkle at the corner of her eyes that is at odds with the solemn expression on her face. "Oh dear. That must be dreadful to hear. No one likes a negative review." Her head tilts thoughtfully. "But every new venture comes with some degree of growing pains, do you not agree?"
Briar debates on immediately stealing the glass back, if only to be more of a nuisance, but for now he folds his hands neatly on the table again instead. He'll save it for when she's let down her guard. His voice is forcefully flat and unimpressed.
"Heartbreaking. And it sure does, but that doesn't answer the question on how you feel."
The bone-dry tenor of his voice very nearly does her in, but she curls her index finger over the bridge of her nose with enough time to shade the crooked twitch of a not strictly public service appropriate smile.
"As I said," she continues. "I would not doubt that we are currently experiencing growing pains. We are still only just beginning, are we not? There is, to be certain, ample room for improvement." Nazikeda raises an eyebrow, expression arch and just the right side of teasing. "In my personal opinion."
Sitting back in his chair, Briar hums thoughtfully, studying Nazikeda as though he is trying to assess her honesty (which is, of course, ridiculous). Maybe he is playing into this a little. "Fair enough. Have you heard anything from others about their opinions, particularly negative, about management or the Society?"
He reaches out to take her water again, incapable of helping himself.
That one makes her blink, a quick little thing that she covers with an exasperated and pointed glance at her once again purloined drink. Or, rather, at the absence of it. That’s her prop. He was the one that provided her with it.
"Am I being interviewed or is everyone?"
Another long drink, and he's sliding the glass back towards her, now half full. He'll argue this is him utilizing psychological pressure, or something.
"We'll speak to everyone if we think we need to," Briar states after a long moment. "So whatever you have to share will be very… useful. To help with the growing pains." He pauses a moment before leaning forward, forcing down a smile. "And we hear that you're very nosy and annoying, so you've probably heard all sorts of things."
"One hears any number of things throughout the day, it can be hard to keep track."
Nazikeda leans herself back in direct opposition, securing her drink as she does so by hooking two fingers into the cup itself, dipping them into the water tartly and catching his gaze as it moves along the table.
"And I do not think I like your manners," she adds in her very best Bacall, running a dampened fingertip along the rim of the glass solely to make it sing. "As you well know, hurtful and insulting speech creates a hostile work environment."
"So you haven't heard anything negative that you can recall?" Briar holds Nazikeda's gaze, but he's now, clearly, trying not to laugh. "And I'm very sorry, I was just repeating something I overheard someone say. Your boyfriend, I think. But we wouldn't want a hostile work environment where people are worried for their well-being, mental or otherwise."
It would be easier not to answer his first question at all - while she is bound to answer truthfully, she is not required to answer - but this is an exercise in fluidity. So Nazikeda slants forward to mirror him, frustration flickering briefly in her eyes but her reply neatly made. "Nothing that you are required to know."
Her fingers steeple together beneath her chin, a tidy bridge over the half-filled glass of water. "And what my partner chooses to call me is none of -" A beat, her gaze steady once more. "Management’s concern, Mr. Hemming. Perhaps you should keep what you hear to yourself."
It's a decent enough answer, and Briar assumes that, if Nazikeda is questioned in any way, they'll hesitate to push too hard for fear of showing their hand. Hopefully, anyways. He hums again, pondering his next move even as he's caught up a bit in being amused by her later words.
"He's very mean to you. Only brought it up because I was concerned," he starts, voice thick with fake sympathy, even though the logic doesn't follow. "But what is the most pressing problem at the Society right now?"
His sympathy is met with a tsk-ing little click of her tongue, sharp and scolding. "I think you brought it up because you are nosy. Are you fishing for something?" The pause she leaves here is dangerous, like something old and sharp-toothed sensing blood in the water. "Looking to correct your biased character assessment?" Nazikeda grins back at him, impish and bright and troublesome. "One might say that your biggest problem is wrongly estimating those in your employ."
Briar immediately wrinkles his nose at the pause in Nazikeda's words, the threat of a compliment clear to him. He sits back, deciding to leave that bit of joking behind. Before refocusing on the task at hand, he sticks his tongue out the smallest bit.
"What problems do you think require immediate attention?"
Nazikeda does laugh this time, a triumphant and cackling thing, rocking herself back into place before straightening her expression and her shoulders and her hair in that order exactly. Of all the aforementioned particulars, it might be noted that she makes the most effort with sorting her hair.
"The one where I am being interrogated," she replies. "That was not at all covered in the employee handbook. I had assumed that the interview portion of this job had already concluded."
"This isn't an interrogation, it's a…" Briar trails off, trying to find the right word even as he's also trying not to grimace at Nazikeda. The desire to muss her hair is strong, but he controls himself.
"It's like a performance review for the Society." He waves a hand, though he does use the motion to reach for her glass of water again as well. "Do you feel like the Society takes employees' safety seriously?"
The glass itself is relinquished, but not before Nazikeda takes the opportunity to dip her fingers into it again, flicking water in Briar's direction.
"A difficult answer to quantify when a large number of your employees spend a not-insignificant amount of their time running headlong into danger." She waggles her head right to left, teetering like an unbalanced scale. "As a job requirement. And also potentially because they have debatable self-preservation skills."
Briar returns the favor of flicked water mere moments after Nazikeda because he had the same idea in mind when taking the glass. There's a huff of a laugh, and then he refocuses.
"But do you think we do our best to make sure that people are safe, despite the built-in risk?" He can't imagine anyone would actually ask this, given that it's unlikely they care, but it's probably not unlike other questions she might have to skirt around. "Can't do anything about people's self-preservation skills, unfortunately."
The roll of her eyes is as much for the water dripping down her nose as it is for the question he asks her this time. Quite frankly, Nazikeda doesn't think that they do anything. That is entirely on the people working in Healing. And perhaps a bit of sheer dumb luck sprinkled liberally with inherent supernatural abilities.
"I think that the Society has hired an eminently talented Healing Department for that exact purpose, yes?" She rolls one shoulder upward, a casual shrug of motion, and leans her cheek to meet it. "And that a dead staff would be an astoundingly ineffective one."
"A dead staff would be very ineffective," he agrees, casually wiping the few droplets of water from his face before flicking a bit more at her. It's very hard not to smile, despite the topic.
"What do you think management could do differently to better ensure the safety of employees?" Since Nazikeda was seemingly annoyed by the question, Briar figures he should push a little more at least, though this one is open-ended enough that she can probably get around it without too much trouble. He flicks more water at her.
The very tempting pull to let her magic spill itself across the woodgrain and tip her glass entirely onto his lap as a favor to herself is tempered only by her need to win whatever competitive nonsense they’ve managed to make out of this entire exercise.
"Oh, that is far above the purview of my current position," she says with all the wide-eyed and modest affectation of someone deeply unqualified. "I am here to assure that people are tended to and content with their accommodations." Nazikeda smiles, blinks water from the fan of her eyelashes, and very demurely snaps her teeth after his retreating fingers.
Briar is at risk of losing (whatever that means), because Nazikeda's tone, even smile, and snapping of her teeth cause a swell of affection that makes him want to annoy her that much more. He sighs, considering the glass in front of him, reminding himself that, technically, this is supposed to be achieving something. So for now he should keep it up.
"You do a real good job at that. And, since you do, we'd really like to know any suggestions you have for improvement. We're very invested in hearing ideas, especially from high-performing employees like you."
It should be noted, for the official record, that there is nothing particularly noteworthy about this set of words over any of the other ones that Briar has uttered so far. Perhaps it's more the fabricated earnestness in which he says that she's been doing a good job - or the way that she can't quite help but echo an incredulous 'high-performing employees' to herself.
"Am I?" Nazikeda asks, her own words tumbling from her giggly and wavering. "You flatter me overmuch, I think."
Placing his fist over his mouth in a feigned cough to cover a smile, Briar takes a moment to compose himself before settling his hands back folded on the table again. "I only give compliments when they're deserved. I'm very serious and not the flattering type." 'Serious' comes out as a near laugh.
"Maybe we'll even give you employee of the month, for all your hard work. If you tell me your ideas for improvement." This is said as though it is a very desirable bribe.
Nazikeda nods once, sharp and precise. "Very serious, of course." The hastily schooled expression and level set of her shoulders does very little to offset the fondness still humming in her veins. It curls up something warm and contented within her to see him laugh. He does it more often now.
She lets out a sigh, downcast and overdone. "I am afraid I must disappoint you, however, as I have no particular wish for recognition." At all, really. A truth quite freely given. "I just want to return to my apartment at the end of the day and spend my time with my -" Her nose wrinkles. "How did you phrase it?" A finger ticks upward, taps at her temple. "Ah, yes. My very mean boyfriend."
"But he's very mean," Briar starts, though on realizing this is another potential opening for a compliment, he wrinkles his nose and quickly follows with, "Not that it's any of my business, as management. I'm only concerned about business things and employee well-being."
His questions have essentially run dry, partially from lack of creativity and partially from distraction, making him toy with the glass of water in front of him to stall. "Do you… think… I'm… cuter than your boyfriend?" Maybe he can force her to lose by asking a truly stupid question, even if it could be another invitation for kind words. He is now focused on her, doing his best to remain impassive. "It's an important business question."
The gasping hiccup of air that startles its way out of her is strangled with laughter and clear delight. "Why, Mr. Hemming," she manages, one hand fluttering to bracket the base of her neck. She blinks, fingers fanned across her collarbones, all genuinely wide-eyed and entirely faux-thunderstruck. "I am a taken woman."
She leans forward, lets her fingers trail up to meet her and braces her knuckles under her chin. "And it is so dreadfully difficult to tell in these conditions, you understand." Nazikeda waves her free hand, the light over the stove guttering and returning to life in helpful demonstration. "I am afraid you will have to come closer."
Briar is incapable of keeping his smile down at Nazikeda's laugh, the expression both amused and triumphant at having made her crack so wonderfully. The feeling of success, though, is short-lived, because she recovers rather quickly and even draws another laugh out of him at 'taken woman.'
He watches as she leans in, eyes trained on her even as the light flickers. And while he knows that leaning in himself can go either well or poorly for him, it's impossible to not. What's the worst she can do, anyways? Humming, he shifts forward.
There is a dimly lit, quiet-drenched moment where she lets the thrum of anticipation rattle around before she levers herself up and onto her knees to catch his chin between her fingers. Nazikeda has no need to tip or tilt or consider the cut of him. The answer is easy. "Impossible. As if there is anyone more handsome to me than you." She lets him win, rubs the tip of her nose against his with all of the tender warmth of her own good fortune.
Leaning back just a little, she inquires: "What do you think, hayatım? Do I pass?"
This ending to their game is not something that feels exactly like a victory, but Briar doesn't mind in the least. It's a perfectly fine prize to have his face held, his nose touched to Nazikeda's even though a stupid game isn't required for such things. He smiles and leans in slightly as she leans back to keep the distance between them the same - they've been very far apart on opposite sides of the table for an extended period of time, after all.
"C. Just barely passing, Pretty."
Nazikeda’s show of offense at the rating could, perhaps, stand to be a little less entertained - but she manages to stick out her lower lip in a sulky and dramatic frown even if she doesn't quite bother to pull herself any further away.
Her thumb pushes lightly at the center of his chin. "Very mean."
"Guess you can sometimes trust what management says," Briar smoothly replies, one hand reaching up to pull Nazikeda's away from his face so he can close the short distance between them without any interference. He presses a light kiss to her lips with a hum before shifting back just slightly, forehead pressed to hers.
"You'll do fine, if it comes to it."
The tail end of her laughter folds into the press of his lips against hers.
"İzin verseydin sana öyle tatlı şeyler söylerdim ki," Nazikeda murmurs into the scant space between them with all of the saccharine air of her very worst threats, smudging half-heartedly at the dark of her lipstick over the breadth of his smile.
Though Briar has literally no idea what Nazikeda has said to him, he murmurs one of the few things he knows in Turkish back - "Kapa çeneni." - his own tone flush with affection.
Unbothered by whatever lipstick transfer may have occurred, he leans to kiss her again, quick and light as the time before.
WHEN: … let’s say the beginning-ish of the month.
WHERE: Apartment 215
WHAT:In which Briar "helps" Keda practice being "interrogated." (I cannot stress enough how much no one helps or is interrogated in this.)
WARNINGS: Stupidity. (Guess who forgot to post this and had it sitting in drafts? It's me!)
Though the premise of preparing Nazikeda for potential questioning by their sketchy bosses isn't unreasonable, Briar is having a bit of a hard time taking the situation overly seriously. It's circumstantial, though, and he would argue entirely not his fault - she isn't taking it horribly seriously either. And the circumstances? Well, they're silly. He and Keda sit across from one another at their kitchen table, the single light on the one above the stove on its lowest setting so the feel of it is right (the feel being, apparently, some old timey detective interrogation). He has his hands folded. He'd given her a glass of water. He's put on a darker than usual flannel shirt. He's trying very hard to look serious.
"...anything you want to focus on? Or just general things about what everyone thinks or is talking about or whatnot?"
Given ample time to prepare and a healthy dollop of creative license - which is, one might point out, one of the overarching goals of this exercise to begin with - it could be argued that the circumstances are not at all silly and are, in fact, logical and forward-thinking. Or, with greater ease, one might just say that one thinks about the thematic appeal of noir-style filmography not entirely infrequently. But that is neither here nor there.
Here and now, as it were, Nazikeda is seated neatly and dressed
"It is merely that I do not wish to look as though I am -" she rolls her eyes, catches the tip of one of her nails between her index finger and thumb. "Stumbling too long should the topic of workplace satisfaction and trust come up. It is an inconvenience at best and a liability at worst."
"Agreed."
In a different situation, where all that was at stake was workplace politics and potential hurt feelings, Briar would argue that Nazikeda has been skirting around truth long enough that she can handle this with ease. But it's hard to ignore the fact that even an honest stumble or consideration of words could be misconstrued by higher ups, if they're as bad as they currently seem. At this thought he wrinkles his nose, and then tries to channel that into… interrogation, he supposes.
"How're you feeling about the management these days?"
"Straight in with no wordplay at all, hayatım?" She bends her finger further back and then lets it tap back down to the tabletop with a click, her pout an audible thing. Philip Marlowe would never. But, all the same, one simply must rally and move forward with grace and aplomb. Even in such trying times.
Which means that Nazikeda lets out a sigh steeped in great tragedy and fixes her face back into something vaguely resembling professional. "Yes, very well.” And quickly, after allowing herself one beat to settle, she presses on: "I have no problems with my direct supervisor at present." (She has no intention of having any problems with Sharona in general. But, again, neither here nor there.) "Is there something I should be concerned with?"
"This is very serious, there's no time for wordplay," Briar argues against her complaint, but despite the fact that his tone is even there's a smile ticking at the corners of his lips. After a moment he reaches out to take her glass of water, taking a sip as he considers.
"Nothing to be concerned about; it's just come to our attention that some people might be dissatisfied. How do you feel in general about how the Society is being run?"
The contrarian within her - Or perhaps more accurately, the contrarian that she is rather entirely, chimes with vehement protest that there is always time for wordplay. But sometimes one is called upon to show rather than tell.
Nazikeda reaches forward to snag her glass back once it's within her reach, setting it back into its proper place with a crinkle at the corner of her eyes that is at odds with the solemn expression on her face. "Oh dear. That must be dreadful to hear. No one likes a negative review." Her head tilts thoughtfully. "But every new venture comes with some degree of growing pains, do you not agree?"
Briar debates on immediately stealing the glass back, if only to be more of a nuisance, but for now he folds his hands neatly on the table again instead. He'll save it for when she's let down her guard. His voice is forcefully flat and unimpressed.
"Heartbreaking. And it sure does, but that doesn't answer the question on how you feel."
The bone-dry tenor of his voice very nearly does her in, but she curls her index finger over the bridge of her nose with enough time to shade the crooked twitch of a not strictly public service appropriate smile.
"As I said," she continues. "I would not doubt that we are currently experiencing growing pains. We are still only just beginning, are we not? There is, to be certain, ample room for improvement." Nazikeda raises an eyebrow, expression arch and just the right side of teasing. "In my personal opinion."
Sitting back in his chair, Briar hums thoughtfully, studying Nazikeda as though he is trying to assess her honesty (which is, of course, ridiculous). Maybe he is playing into this a little. "Fair enough. Have you heard anything from others about their opinions, particularly negative, about management or the Society?"
He reaches out to take her water again, incapable of helping himself.
That one makes her blink, a quick little thing that she covers with an exasperated and pointed glance at her once again purloined drink. Or, rather, at the absence of it. That’s her prop. He was the one that provided her with it.
"Am I being interviewed or is everyone?"
Another long drink, and he's sliding the glass back towards her, now half full. He'll argue this is him utilizing psychological pressure, or something.
"We'll speak to everyone if we think we need to," Briar states after a long moment. "So whatever you have to share will be very… useful. To help with the growing pains." He pauses a moment before leaning forward, forcing down a smile. "And we hear that you're very nosy and annoying, so you've probably heard all sorts of things."
"One hears any number of things throughout the day, it can be hard to keep track."
Nazikeda leans herself back in direct opposition, securing her drink as she does so by hooking two fingers into the cup itself, dipping them into the water tartly and catching his gaze as it moves along the table.
"And I do not think I like your manners," she adds in her very best Bacall, running a dampened fingertip along the rim of the glass solely to make it sing. "As you well know, hurtful and insulting speech creates a hostile work environment."
"So you haven't heard anything negative that you can recall?" Briar holds Nazikeda's gaze, but he's now, clearly, trying not to laugh. "And I'm very sorry, I was just repeating something I overheard someone say. Your boyfriend, I think. But we wouldn't want a hostile work environment where people are worried for their well-being, mental or otherwise."
It would be easier not to answer his first question at all - while she is bound to answer truthfully, she is not required to answer - but this is an exercise in fluidity. So Nazikeda slants forward to mirror him, frustration flickering briefly in her eyes but her reply neatly made. "Nothing that you are required to know."
Her fingers steeple together beneath her chin, a tidy bridge over the half-filled glass of water. "And what my partner chooses to call me is none of -" A beat, her gaze steady once more. "Management’s concern, Mr. Hemming. Perhaps you should keep what you hear to yourself."
It's a decent enough answer, and Briar assumes that, if Nazikeda is questioned in any way, they'll hesitate to push too hard for fear of showing their hand. Hopefully, anyways. He hums again, pondering his next move even as he's caught up a bit in being amused by her later words.
"He's very mean to you. Only brought it up because I was concerned," he starts, voice thick with fake sympathy, even though the logic doesn't follow. "But what is the most pressing problem at the Society right now?"
His sympathy is met with a tsk-ing little click of her tongue, sharp and scolding. "I think you brought it up because you are nosy. Are you fishing for something?" The pause she leaves here is dangerous, like something old and sharp-toothed sensing blood in the water. "Looking to correct your biased character assessment?" Nazikeda grins back at him, impish and bright and troublesome. "One might say that your biggest problem is wrongly estimating those in your employ."
Briar immediately wrinkles his nose at the pause in Nazikeda's words, the threat of a compliment clear to him. He sits back, deciding to leave that bit of joking behind. Before refocusing on the task at hand, he sticks his tongue out the smallest bit.
"What problems do you think require immediate attention?"
Nazikeda does laugh this time, a triumphant and cackling thing, rocking herself back into place before straightening her expression and her shoulders and her hair in that order exactly. Of all the aforementioned particulars, it might be noted that she makes the most effort with sorting her hair.
"The one where I am being interrogated," she replies. "That was not at all covered in the employee handbook. I had assumed that the interview portion of this job had already concluded."
"This isn't an interrogation, it's a…" Briar trails off, trying to find the right word even as he's also trying not to grimace at Nazikeda. The desire to muss her hair is strong, but he controls himself.
"It's like a performance review for the Society." He waves a hand, though he does use the motion to reach for her glass of water again as well. "Do you feel like the Society takes employees' safety seriously?"
The glass itself is relinquished, but not before Nazikeda takes the opportunity to dip her fingers into it again, flicking water in Briar's direction.
"A difficult answer to quantify when a large number of your employees spend a not-insignificant amount of their time running headlong into danger." She waggles her head right to left, teetering like an unbalanced scale. "As a job requirement. And also potentially because they have debatable self-preservation skills."
Briar returns the favor of flicked water mere moments after Nazikeda because he had the same idea in mind when taking the glass. There's a huff of a laugh, and then he refocuses.
"But do you think we do our best to make sure that people are safe, despite the built-in risk?" He can't imagine anyone would actually ask this, given that it's unlikely they care, but it's probably not unlike other questions she might have to skirt around. "Can't do anything about people's self-preservation skills, unfortunately."
The roll of her eyes is as much for the water dripping down her nose as it is for the question he asks her this time. Quite frankly, Nazikeda doesn't think that they do anything. That is entirely on the people working in Healing. And perhaps a bit of sheer dumb luck sprinkled liberally with inherent supernatural abilities.
"I think that the Society has hired an eminently talented Healing Department for that exact purpose, yes?" She rolls one shoulder upward, a casual shrug of motion, and leans her cheek to meet it. "And that a dead staff would be an astoundingly ineffective one."
"A dead staff would be very ineffective," he agrees, casually wiping the few droplets of water from his face before flicking a bit more at her. It's very hard not to smile, despite the topic.
"What do you think management could do differently to better ensure the safety of employees?" Since Nazikeda was seemingly annoyed by the question, Briar figures he should push a little more at least, though this one is open-ended enough that she can probably get around it without too much trouble. He flicks more water at her.
The very tempting pull to let her magic spill itself across the woodgrain and tip her glass entirely onto his lap as a favor to herself is tempered only by her need to win whatever competitive nonsense they’ve managed to make out of this entire exercise.
"Oh, that is far above the purview of my current position," she says with all the wide-eyed and modest affectation of someone deeply unqualified. "I am here to assure that people are tended to and content with their accommodations." Nazikeda smiles, blinks water from the fan of her eyelashes, and very demurely snaps her teeth after his retreating fingers.
Briar is at risk of losing (whatever that means), because Nazikeda's tone, even smile, and snapping of her teeth cause a swell of affection that makes him want to annoy her that much more. He sighs, considering the glass in front of him, reminding himself that, technically, this is supposed to be achieving something. So for now he should keep it up.
"You do a real good job at that. And, since you do, we'd really like to know any suggestions you have for improvement. We're very invested in hearing ideas, especially from high-performing employees like you."
It should be noted, for the official record, that there is nothing particularly noteworthy about this set of words over any of the other ones that Briar has uttered so far. Perhaps it's more the fabricated earnestness in which he says that she's been doing a good job - or the way that she can't quite help but echo an incredulous 'high-performing employees' to herself.
"Am I?" Nazikeda asks, her own words tumbling from her giggly and wavering. "You flatter me overmuch, I think."
Placing his fist over his mouth in a feigned cough to cover a smile, Briar takes a moment to compose himself before settling his hands back folded on the table again. "I only give compliments when they're deserved. I'm very serious and not the flattering type." 'Serious' comes out as a near laugh.
"Maybe we'll even give you employee of the month, for all your hard work. If you tell me your ideas for improvement." This is said as though it is a very desirable bribe.
Nazikeda nods once, sharp and precise. "Very serious, of course." The hastily schooled expression and level set of her shoulders does very little to offset the fondness still humming in her veins. It curls up something warm and contented within her to see him laugh. He does it more often now.
She lets out a sigh, downcast and overdone. "I am afraid I must disappoint you, however, as I have no particular wish for recognition." At all, really. A truth quite freely given. "I just want to return to my apartment at the end of the day and spend my time with my -" Her nose wrinkles. "How did you phrase it?" A finger ticks upward, taps at her temple. "Ah, yes. My very mean boyfriend."
"But he's very mean," Briar starts, though on realizing this is another potential opening for a compliment, he wrinkles his nose and quickly follows with, "Not that it's any of my business, as management. I'm only concerned about business things and employee well-being."
His questions have essentially run dry, partially from lack of creativity and partially from distraction, making him toy with the glass of water in front of him to stall. "Do you… think… I'm… cuter than your boyfriend?" Maybe he can force her to lose by asking a truly stupid question, even if it could be another invitation for kind words. He is now focused on her, doing his best to remain impassive. "It's an important business question."
The gasping hiccup of air that startles its way out of her is strangled with laughter and clear delight. "Why, Mr. Hemming," she manages, one hand fluttering to bracket the base of her neck. She blinks, fingers fanned across her collarbones, all genuinely wide-eyed and entirely faux-thunderstruck. "I am a taken woman."
She leans forward, lets her fingers trail up to meet her and braces her knuckles under her chin. "And it is so dreadfully difficult to tell in these conditions, you understand." Nazikeda waves her free hand, the light over the stove guttering and returning to life in helpful demonstration. "I am afraid you will have to come closer."
Briar is incapable of keeping his smile down at Nazikeda's laugh, the expression both amused and triumphant at having made her crack so wonderfully. The feeling of success, though, is short-lived, because she recovers rather quickly and even draws another laugh out of him at 'taken woman.'
He watches as she leans in, eyes trained on her even as the light flickers. And while he knows that leaning in himself can go either well or poorly for him, it's impossible to not. What's the worst she can do, anyways? Humming, he shifts forward.
There is a dimly lit, quiet-drenched moment where she lets the thrum of anticipation rattle around before she levers herself up and onto her knees to catch his chin between her fingers. Nazikeda has no need to tip or tilt or consider the cut of him. The answer is easy. "Impossible. As if there is anyone more handsome to me than you." She lets him win, rubs the tip of her nose against his with all of the tender warmth of her own good fortune.
Leaning back just a little, she inquires: "What do you think, hayatım? Do I pass?"
This ending to their game is not something that feels exactly like a victory, but Briar doesn't mind in the least. It's a perfectly fine prize to have his face held, his nose touched to Nazikeda's even though a stupid game isn't required for such things. He smiles and leans in slightly as she leans back to keep the distance between them the same - they've been very far apart on opposite sides of the table for an extended period of time, after all.
"C. Just barely passing, Pretty."
Nazikeda’s show of offense at the rating could, perhaps, stand to be a little less entertained - but she manages to stick out her lower lip in a sulky and dramatic frown even if she doesn't quite bother to pull herself any further away.
Her thumb pushes lightly at the center of his chin. "Very mean."
"Guess you can sometimes trust what management says," Briar smoothly replies, one hand reaching up to pull Nazikeda's away from his face so he can close the short distance between them without any interference. He presses a light kiss to her lips with a hum before shifting back just slightly, forehead pressed to hers.
"You'll do fine, if it comes to it."
The tail end of her laughter folds into the press of his lips against hers.
"İzin verseydin sana öyle tatlı şeyler söylerdim ki," Nazikeda murmurs into the scant space between them with all of the saccharine air of her very worst threats, smudging half-heartedly at the dark of her lipstick over the breadth of his smile.
Though Briar has literally no idea what Nazikeda has said to him, he murmurs one of the few things he knows in Turkish back - "Kapa çeneni." - his own tone flush with affection.
Unbothered by whatever lipstick transfer may have occurred, he leans to kiss her again, quick and light as the time before.
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