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“A wise decision Regrator. Rest assured, you’re making the right choices here. I do not tolerate failure in my establishments.”
Sounds of sleek fabric gliding together echoed through the lavish office upon the interlocking of fingers. Pantalone exhaled, his chin resting upon them.
A familiar content smile spread across his face.
The sound of the crackling fireplace filled the silence between the two.
“I do hope so.”
“Pleasure doing business with you, I expect we’ll see each other shortly.” A pleased smirk twitched at the corner of the man’s lips as he clasped the other man’s hand, shaking with stern vigour.
Pantalone nodded, seeing him off with a dismissive flick of the hand.
Leather soles thudded against the intricate tiles of the vast hallway, frustration fueled steps reverberating off the walls.
He could see it written all over that man’s face.
It was all too familiar.
That same sickening grin.
The one that would look down on him as he sat begging on the streets.
Remorse and pity was something rare to find upon the faces of passerby's.
From what he could tell it was almost always disgust.
The one that would look down on him as he was beaten behind alleys, accompanied by the telltale quickening of pace from onlookers who turned a blind eye.
And the dull ache that followed, the one that tore through his small body, leaving him shaken as he limped through the streets under the cover of night. Once hot tears now dried cold on his cheeks, doing little to quell the lingering stinging from calloused fists.
He'd gotten used to it after a while.
He’d gotten used to the bruising too.
The one that would look down on him as whatever scarce savings he had were swiped out of his hands, mind and body too weakened to retaliate back.
A day, a week, maybe even a month's worth of work gone within seconds.
Of course he never attempted to get it back either.
He knew the effort would be futile.
The one that would sneer above him as his head was held under the village rivers. Faint sounds of counting, muffled by the river’s gush. “One, two, three, four, five, six…” He’d never made it further than that, forcibly yanked upward, gasping for air as figures scattered off, their giggles fading into the distance.
Some wealthy, mindless children's ideas of fun.
His stomach lurched as sudden memories surged over him like waves, spilling over the dam his mind had carefully constructed over the years.
On instinct, a gloved hand met chapped lips, grasping at his mouth, willing the wave of nausea to pass on its own.
He swallowed, letting out a shaky exhale, composing himself.
Now wasn’t a time to let irrelevant reminders of the past weigh him down.
After all, he had other much more serious matters to attend to.
Shortly after the last few Harbingers had left the meeting, Dottore hauled himself up from his chair and quickened his stride to catch one of the last members to leave.
The Doctor slowed his pace to walk alongside Pantalone.
"Regrator." He nodded.
”Ah Dottore. Always a pleasure.” Glancing at the man, he huffed, expression twisting as he was met by an all too familiar look.
"Whatever funding you need I won't give it to you unless you have an appropriate explanation. And even then I'll have to consider it."
At this point he wondered if there was even a meaning in Dottore asking since the man had dropped constant subtle hints throughout the week to the point where it drove Pantalone to the cusp of insanity. He remembers one night where he’d even awoken to Beta perched beside his bed in the morning, with the dreaded question of whether he’d made his decision yet. The following morning, Dottore was met with a strongly worded letter from the Regrator. It seemed he wouldn’t be at peace until he’d made up his mind. To put it lightly, it was an issue. Though despite the man’s borderline invasive insistence, he did find it entertaining to some strange extent.
“Archons-“ He muttered under his breath before clearing his throat. “I told you, matters are confidential for the time being.” “And you expect me to blindly fund a project I don’t even know the name of?? I did realise you underestimate my capabilities to an extent but this is becoming ridiculous.” Dottore opened his mouth to protest but was quickly cut off by an exasperated sigh from Pantalone.
“You’ve already gone and spent your months allowance on gods know what. Everyone else seems to be managing just fine, surely you should be capable of that too?”
His voice was somewhat collected, however a sharp and undeniably jarring undertone seemed to seep into the last few words, causing him to hesitate slightly, pursing his lips together.
Taking notice of this, Dottore jerked his head to the side, a blur of cyan visible through Pantalone’s peripheral vision.
Well this was something new.
A flaw in the Regrator’s usual unperturbed and even tempered demeanor.
It perked the Doctor’s curiosity.