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bronze_ribbonsPrompt: managing expenses
[So, a problem with me in this fest is that I don't seem to be writing domestic fluff in response to the prompts. Today's ficlet being a case in point. As before, this isn't an official addition to the series, but parts of it may well get folded into a longer actual episode somewhere down the line.]
After a year and a half at the Bureau, Randall still couldn’t make sense of Bruno Curtis. The young man could hold his own in conversations with Oxbridge dons, Savitri Keynes, and Bill Merton, and yet he wasn’t pursuing a career in academia or finance. In fact, he seemed to be raising an inordinate amount of merry hell off a modest allowance from his parents, which didn’t square with Randall’s perceptions of the two: silken drawl and genial smile notwithstanding, they were hard men with legendarily low thresholds for tolerating shirkers, and the old stagers had spine-straightening stories of how merciless DS had been with his own son throughout Bruno’s childhood.
Which made it all the more surprising, how DS seemed to be the indulgent parent here, waving Bruno off to parties in Paris and Vienna while Sir Archie muttered darkly about how a tour of duty in Burma or Borneo could set their child straight. After Bruno’s latest whirl through the office, departing with Miss Keynes in a cloud of scent and algorithms, Randall realised that he had failed to mask his curiosity when Will Darling spared him a wry smile.
“What you need to know, my friend, is that DS doesn’t want Curtis in this business. Which is one of the two things about him that makes sense to me.”
“What’s the other?”
“Why he continues Bruno’s allowance rather than cutting him off. You saw those headlines about Lord John Wheeldon, yeah? All the stealing he did—”
“Because his family had cut him off, thinking it would force him to find proper employment,” Randall slowly replied.
“Exactly,” Darling said.
Randall leaned back in his chair and studied the stolid man. Darling himself didn’t strike him as the type to have any time for Bruno’s ilk. Even though the man owned a bookshop, he wasn’t an intellectual, nor was he a hedonist.
And yet, he didn’t seem to disapprove of DS’s direction here, although he also didn’t look receptive to further questions. Randall shook his head as if to clear it, and stood up. “I think I’ll head out for lunch myself,” he said, and Darling nodded.
A beat after the door closed behind Randall, Kim sauntered to Will’s desk and perched on a corner.
Will raised an eyebrow, and then grimaced at himself. He really had picked up too many of Sir Archie’s mannerisms over the years.
Kim smirked, both at Will’s exasperation and at the wake of Randall’s exit. “Another conquest by Bruno, and he isn’t even here to enjoy it.”
Will rolled his eyes. “Randall has a girl in Chelsea.”
“Which signifies little, but I digress. I’m intrigued, William, that you didn’t let on how Bruno used to work for you. That he does know how to work.”
“Bruno can take care of himself,” Will pointed out. “He doesn’t need me to defend him. Randall just looked pitiful with that crease in his forehead.”
Kim grinned. “It doesn’t suit him, does it?”
Will reached for his jacket. “Doesn’t suit you, either, loitering here. Are you struggling to find weasel-words for Godfrey’s shambles in Spain?”
“Slander!” Kim feigned shock and dismay. “And, as a matter of fact, yes.” He grinned ruefully. “It’s your terrible influence, you know. All that forthright, straightforward—”
“Bollocks,” Will said, steering Kim with him toward the exit. “DS just knows you too well by now, and you know that. But you’ll figure out what you should say.” Shading his eyes, he could see a tall young man and his pert companion two blocks away, tossing crumbs at a flock of ducks. “And Bruno will figure out what to do, or get himself killed before it matters.”
“Will,” Kim said, a world of consternation in the lone syllable.
“I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know,” Will insisted. “And you know damn well Bruno’s going to get what he wants. We just don’t know yet what it truly looks like or when we’ll see it.”
[So, a problem with me in this fest is that I don't seem to be writing domestic fluff in response to the prompts. Today's ficlet being a case in point. As before, this isn't an official addition to the series, but parts of it may well get folded into a longer actual episode somewhere down the line.]
After a year and a half at the Bureau, Randall still couldn’t make sense of Bruno Curtis. The young man could hold his own in conversations with Oxbridge dons, Savitri Keynes, and Bill Merton, and yet he wasn’t pursuing a career in academia or finance. In fact, he seemed to be raising an inordinate amount of merry hell off a modest allowance from his parents, which didn’t square with Randall’s perceptions of the two: silken drawl and genial smile notwithstanding, they were hard men with legendarily low thresholds for tolerating shirkers, and the old stagers had spine-straightening stories of how merciless DS had been with his own son throughout Bruno’s childhood.
Which made it all the more surprising, how DS seemed to be the indulgent parent here, waving Bruno off to parties in Paris and Vienna while Sir Archie muttered darkly about how a tour of duty in Burma or Borneo could set their child straight. After Bruno’s latest whirl through the office, departing with Miss Keynes in a cloud of scent and algorithms, Randall realised that he had failed to mask his curiosity when Will Darling spared him a wry smile.
“What you need to know, my friend, is that DS doesn’t want Curtis in this business. Which is one of the two things about him that makes sense to me.”
“What’s the other?”
“Why he continues Bruno’s allowance rather than cutting him off. You saw those headlines about Lord John Wheeldon, yeah? All the stealing he did—”
“Because his family had cut him off, thinking it would force him to find proper employment,” Randall slowly replied.
“Exactly,” Darling said.
Randall leaned back in his chair and studied the stolid man. Darling himself didn’t strike him as the type to have any time for Bruno’s ilk. Even though the man owned a bookshop, he wasn’t an intellectual, nor was he a hedonist.
And yet, he didn’t seem to disapprove of DS’s direction here, although he also didn’t look receptive to further questions. Randall shook his head as if to clear it, and stood up. “I think I’ll head out for lunch myself,” he said, and Darling nodded.
A beat after the door closed behind Randall, Kim sauntered to Will’s desk and perched on a corner.
Will raised an eyebrow, and then grimaced at himself. He really had picked up too many of Sir Archie’s mannerisms over the years.
Kim smirked, both at Will’s exasperation and at the wake of Randall’s exit. “Another conquest by Bruno, and he isn’t even here to enjoy it.”
Will rolled his eyes. “Randall has a girl in Chelsea.”
“Which signifies little, but I digress. I’m intrigued, William, that you didn’t let on how Bruno used to work for you. That he does know how to work.”
“Bruno can take care of himself,” Will pointed out. “He doesn’t need me to defend him. Randall just looked pitiful with that crease in his forehead.”
Kim grinned. “It doesn’t suit him, does it?”
Will reached for his jacket. “Doesn’t suit you, either, loitering here. Are you struggling to find weasel-words for Godfrey’s shambles in Spain?”
“Slander!” Kim feigned shock and dismay. “And, as a matter of fact, yes.” He grinned ruefully. “It’s your terrible influence, you know. All that forthright, straightforward—”
“Bollocks,” Will said, steering Kim with him toward the exit. “DS just knows you too well by now, and you know that. But you’ll figure out what you should say.” Shading his eyes, he could see a tall young man and his pert companion two blocks away, tossing crumbs at a flock of ducks. “And Bruno will figure out what to do, or get himself killed before it matters.”
“Will,” Kim said, a world of consternation in the lone syllable.
“I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know,” Will insisted. “And you know damn well Bruno’s going to get what he wants. We just don’t know yet what it truly looks like or when we’ll see it.”
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