Chapter Text
From a young age, you were determined to forge your own path. At least, that's what your mentors initially dictated, working for a company specializing in exclusive and exotic wines with prices that reflected the sheer luxury of owning them.
“ALL STAR” was more of a winery tied to the charity of a shelter where the CEO and CFO had founded it to cover expenses, but it had expanded rapidly throughout the Middle East. The wines were indeed exquisite.
It was practically a badge of honor on your uniform; your current job was that of a direct wine sales agent. Indeed, you had become excellent at distributing different wine catalogs to clients through any medium that involved an interested buyer. You were usually out of your office at one of the branches, either overseeing export shipments or attending client appointments.
But today, you stood before one of the most extravagant houses you had ever seen. The dragon head was brutal; there was no better word to describe it. You had very cautiously insisted on arranging a meeting (your company's policies include a mandatory meeting and a detailed report to confirm the applicant's legality in the case of high-value requests, to secure the allocated resources). Fortunately, simply because Toki remembered the request you had made a few days prior, you managed to enter Mordhouse.
(You were wearing a formal gray suit, carrying a rather heavy briefcase, your hair neatly styled, looking as impeccable as you could before leaving home. You were escorted by two Klokateers, of all sizes and variations, as you walked, until after a long trek through corridors with neo-Gothic architecture, almost a dystopian fortress, you arrived outside a reception area with a door at the far end. They made you wait outside, and after eight minutes of watching you and waiting for your entry pass, they finally allowed you into the office of the great billionaire Chief Financial Officer of Dethklok, who is only seen in professional sections of the gang. As you entered, your smile almost automatically appeared. You looked up and saw him sitting at his desk. There were a pile of papers scattered across the table, but his hands were clasped and he was leaning heavily on the desk, taking his time and focusing on the same thing.
Y/N: “Good afternoon, it’s a pleasure to be seen by Mr. Offdensen.” (Your smile faded. You were definitely a little nervous, but you had already mentally prepared yourself: “He’s just another client,” you thought. But seeing this man, something felt different inside you… Anyway, concentrate!)
C: “Ah, yes, good afternoon. Let’s get down to business.”
(You nodded; you both understood the situation. Briefcase in hand, you approached the chair in front of his desk, and before you even remembered to take off your coat, you started emptying it. A few pages of legal information to sign, and some advertising materials from the catalog. While you finished what you needed, you began what you had reviewed on the way here.)
Y/N: “Let me introduce myself, although we already know each other. Miss (y/n). Our main context is an interesting encounter over drinks with Dethklok, who, after meeting us, personally placed a huge order from our wine catalog because they only tasted a sample of some that I always carry with me. They then ordered 100 bottles of each type of wine available here at ALL STAR. You are already familiar with our policies, and this was confirmed by one of the band members, which is the reason for this meeting.” (You leaned slightly toward the briefcase, your eyes lowering with you, feeling a certain intimidation in his expressionless gaze, a nervousness you didn't think stemmed solely from power. You took out eight different bottles of wine, impeccably presented in their cases, delicately placed on the desk, and slid them in his hand. Along with the bottles, you handed him all the papers to be signed (documents, invoices, taxes, insurance, all that boring crap), which he held while glancing at them. You didn't say anything else until, after a few seconds, he looked up, attentive.)
C: "Ah, yes, good. Everything seems to be in order... and these bottles, they're from a catalog, I can see..."
(He held one for a few moments, seemingly without much interest, bringing it up to your face, not rotating it, but looking at something else. That's what it seemed to you. Or perhaps you had already become nervous. He put the bottle back and returned to the papers to review and sign them silently, without much thought.)
C: “Very exotic, I can see. Where did you meet again?”
Y/N: “A bar called Lingerature, east of Barsov. The band seemed to be passing through, and it was the right time and place.”
(The only sound between you was his pen flying quickly across the pages, and after a few minutes of a quick reading, he seemed to have finished. But before proceeding to the final signature confirming the order, he didn't exactly look you in the eyes; instead, his gaze darted back and forth, his hands clasped on the desk, the pen in hand.)
C: “Uh, yes… everything seems to be in order. You seem to be a very, uh, confidential brand.”
Y/N: “We have a very surgical organization… in all our departments. Everyone’s got their role.”
C: “I see… Uhm…”
(He looked away once more, but just as his eyes weren't predisposed, neither was the pen he played with, tapping lightly on the desk, though he didn't seem to hesitate, but rather stall. After a few "uhs" escaping him as he adjusted his glasses more than once, cleared his throat, straightened the sleeves of his white shirt, he signed the crescent-shaped signature. You liked the elegant yet common style; you assumed that even though he was one of the men who moved the world economy, he was a generic director after all. Although it wasn't the only thing that lingered on you as much as he did, not a word escaped, but the glances that met were unmistakable. You broke the silence; after all, the sale had been confirmed, there was nothing more to do, but a few more seconds...)
Y/N: “Thank you, Mr. Offdensen, I'm sure they'll love our wines. I hope you give yourself a chance too.”
C: “Charles. Just Charles is fine.”
(You were surprised, but you didn't back down; you drew your silk sword.)
Y/N: “Of course, Charles.”
C: “And yes, I could give the wines a try; I just have a more discerning palate.”
Y/N: “We also do special orders. I'll…,—we'll—do everything possible to win you over.”
(You tightened your pants just a little. It slipped out unintentionally, but as soon as you were about to reply, he drew his tempting sword.)
C: “Well, ah, how about this; I could give you a sample, and if you could, turn my taste into one of your products. How does that sound?”
Y/N: “Absolutely, please.”
(Charles stood up as soon as you finished your second word, went to a small bar next to the counter, and you remained motionless, looking at your hands and chest, a little nervous. It was normal in sales since you hadn't been in the department long enough, but maybe it wasn't just that, and the way he spoke seemed to hypnotize you with his glasses. Something was wrong. But you really wanted to try his drink.)
C: “Do you prefer it on the rocks?”
Y/N: “It depends. What drink are we talking about?*
C: “Ah, yes, brandy. I'll keep the rest a mystery.”
Y/N: “I see... Just the drink, please.”
(Charles arrived with the drink, holding the glass in front of you on your seat. You received it with a pleasant smile, and you both drank.)
C: “It's ah, very, good brandy.”
Y/N: “It's my first time.”
C: “Ah, really? Well–, I shouldn't be this surprised.”
Y/N: “Are you surprised?” (You smiled more gently; in reality, you'd never stopped, not even his unwavering expression challenged you.)
C: “You seemed young, but yes, ah, I must admit that by your looks and the confidence to sell me out in a quick transaction, that's not something you see every day.”
Y/N: “It's good to step outside your comfort zone, just like my mentors did with me.”
C: “ It must be willpower, anyway, or even something special about you.”
Y/N: “Please, call me by my first name, Charles.”
(A smile barely appeared at the corner of his dimples. They both finished as soon as they'd taken a sip. He scratched his face, thinking about what was next.)
Y/N: “Could I have a little more?”
(Charles nodded and stood up. This time, he took the entire bottle, but it looked like it had just been bought. He held it while standing next to your seat, barely a meter away.)
C: “I hope you can replicate it. Ah, I'll wait, excited to try it.”
(He seemed to be cutting the deal at that moment. You nodded with a smile, laid your papers aside, and the catalog bottles remained as a gift. Just like your brandy now in the briefcase. You stood up, and he had already brought your coat closer, ready for you to put on, but he didn't help you.)
Y/N: It's been a pleasure doing business. You can call me anytime. We'll be in touch regarding the import and delivery of your bottles, as well as your brandy.
C: Feel free to contact me.
Y/N: I will... (You took a card from your suit, and without waiting, much less thinking, with the longing in your heart, you guided it inside his suit jacket as well; a few taps were enough to seal it. He barely raised his eyebrows but had a calm expression despite that.)
(Before leaving, he offered you his hand, for a formal business handshake. You brought it closer, and Charles lingered there longer than he should have, like you, appreciating the warmth and a light sweat... you loved that slightly rough texture on such an amusing hand. Charles released it with a small "ah"... you stood there for a few moments, but this time you both looked into each other's eyes.)
Charles was searching for an explanation for his feelings and why he felt such a longing for possession; you seemed like a perfect Les Paul '57, the harsh chandelier light making your hair shine with flashes of light, especially the way it fell upon you like a golden shower. You were everything and nothing, and that moved him. It pulled him out of his generative judgment, and he didn't want to let go of your hand until he understood why.
But the Klokateer was already waiting outside the door, and he let you go. Only when you were already ahead in the hallway did he come out to watch you out of the corner of his eye, and God... Your silhouette hovered as if he were in the office the whole time, while the business calls kept ringing.
He needed that brandy. As soon as possible.