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The first major red flag is that Kamski’s got a giant painting of himself in his lobby. A painting Leo’s pretty sure his father painted. That has to be a sign. Nobody without an ego the size of a small planet has enormous wall art of themselves. Not that he expected Kamski to be humble. A man like that probably couldn’t be. But Leo hoped the guy would at least be decent. His father seems to like Kamski, after all. Not that Leo and his father have particularly similar tastes.
After not nearly as long as Leo expected, the door the blonde android disappeared through slides back, and Leo anxiously pushes out of his chair. The girl doesn’t come back to escort him anywhere, or to tell him Kamski’s busy, which he was braced for—because surely Kamski’s got better things to do than talk to strangers wanting favours—but instead, Kamski himself walks right on through. Instead of the full suit in his painting, he’s dressed in pressed grey pants and a tight-fitted black turtleneck that sucks against his sculpted abs. For a split second, Leo’s taken aback, because holy shit, the guy who created Leo’s living nightmare is crazily hot. Scientists aren’t supposed to be that hot. At least, not in Leo’s head. He’d assumed the painting was pure fantasy and vanity, and Kamski himself would be an ugly old fool who aged about as well as his father. Leo was so wrong.
But Leo tries not to think about that. He snaps his eyes back up to Kamski’s handsome face, only to realize that Kamski’s doing the same thing, eyes roving all over Leo’s body. Leo can feel his cheeks heating. Maybe he should’ve shaved. And taken off his hat. Kamski’s hair looks slightly damp, pulled back in a topknot, the shaved sides of his head revealing a few stray piercings in his ears. He drawls for a greeting, “So. You’re Carl’s boy.”
For whatever dumb reason, Leo corrects, “Man,” because he feels like boyhood is dead and gone by thirty. And he doesn’t want Kamski thinking of him as a boy. Kamski hums acknowledgement.
Kamski allows his eyes to linger a little longer down Leo’s trim hips and flat chest, covered up in a tight blue jacket. Then Kamski’s finally looking right into his eyes, and Leo’s still blushing.
Kamski has the slightest hint of an accent. Leo has no idea where he’s from. Leo probably should’ve done more research. Kamski asks, “So, Mr. Manfred Junior... what can I do for you?”
“Leo.”
Kamski repeats in all but a purr, “Leo.”
Leo swallows down his reaction and grits out, “Take Markus back.”
One eyebrow quirks up. Otherwise, Kamski seems remarkably unaffected by what should be a shock. Leo doubts anyone’s tried to give such an expensive present back before, but Leo rolls on, “He’s a menace. He’s not real, but my dad’s all over him—he’s already way too dependant on that piece of plastic. I mean, I get it’s a fancy prototype, but... look, I just don’t want it around the house, okay? He’s monopolizing all my father’s time.” He realizes he jumps between pronouns. Even he doesn’t know what to think of Markus, just that Markus is a problem for him.
Kamski waits a few seconds, but Leo adds nothing else. Then Kamski offers, “How about I occupy your time instead?”
Leo waits for the punch line. It doesn’t come. “What?”
“I’m suggesting I take you to dinner.”
Leo just sort of... stares. He’s completely caught off guard. But also maybe sort of flattered, because Kamski’s gorgeous and he’s a wreck. He knows he’s a wreck. He doesn’t get it. He can only assume it’s some sort of weird quid pro quo kink or something; he skeptically asks, “Are you... asking for sex in exchange for a favour...?”
Kamski actually snorts. He looks both unamused and not offended in the slightest. “No, I’m asking for sex because I’m smart, rich, and attractive. You should hardly need a favour on top of that.”
All true. But that just makes it all the weirder that Kamski would go for him. Somehow, his paranoid brain blurts out the stupidest thing possible: “Didn’t my dad tell you I’m an addict?” He always assumed that’s the only thing his father ever says about him, because that seems to be the only trait Carl Manfred sees.
Kamski shrugs like he did know and doesn’t care. “I’ve dealt with larger complications before. Although he has also mentioned you’re prone to theft and abrasive language.”
Leo’s whole face is red. Only a small part of it’s anger; most is embarrassment. He never means to steal. He’s never done it sober. And sure he has an active mouth, but only because his father pushes him there. He’s dumbfounded that Kamski doesn’t see any of that as a turn off.
Kamski takes one smooth step closer, foot slotting between Leo’s, and suddenly Leo’s painfully aware of just how broad Kamski’s shoulders are and just how delicious his cologne smells. A hand curls under Leo’s chin, tilting it up, and Kamski muses, “I have an eye for things of value, Leo. Not a lot of things catch my interest... but you’re cute. Very cute. I could do something with that.”
Leo can’t tell if that’s seductive or creepy. He’s paralyzed with disbelief. Kamski continues, “How about I pick you up on Thursday, say, eight o’clock?”
Leo opens his mouth, and for whatever reason, “Yes,” comes out.
Kamski smirks like he’s won. Maybe he has. Leo doesn’t even know what sport they’re playing, just that he’s somehow going home with a big prize. Kamski bends down to murmur right across his lips, “See you then, Leo.”
Leo grunts, “Sure.” The hand under his chin withdraws. Kamski steps away, still lit up with his grin, and then he’s turning and strolling right out of the room. The door opens for him, the blond woman that first let Leo in stepping through in his wake. Kamski tells her offhandedly, “Chloe, show our guest to the door.”
“Of course, Elijah.”
The blonde android walks over to the door and gestures to it. Leo obediently starts walking.
It’s not until he’s outside in the rain that he realizes just how fucked up it is that he went in with a purpose and came out with a date. But then he reasons that Kamski just chose a night with him over recalling Markus, so hey, at least someone likes him better.