If Martin is surprised by the ongoing scene, he doesn't let on: indeed, he snaps back into character so quickly that there's no question of his ongoing enthusiasm. Excellent. John betrays no outward satisfaction, but occupies himself by typing 'holy shit' a few more times as he waits for Martin to leave. Then he pauses, listening for the sound of the loo's door shutting, before he pushes himself back from his desk and blows out a slow, steadying exhalation.
Right. Okay. Onto the next thing. Whatever the hell that is.
He starts by returning the Jones file to its drawer. It could have made for a good prop, under slightly different circumstances — something to sweep either dramatically or dismissively to the floor, depending on what sort of turn the scene takes — but he still doesn't like the idea of real files serving such a base purpose. He could easily assemble some fakes, though. Just stuff some blank printer paper into some otherwise empty folders. It's the first solid idea he's got, so he makes a detour to their little printer station on his way back to his office, helping himself to a stack of blank paper off the top of an open ream and grabbing a few empty folders to stuff.
He shuts his door, then settles in to assemble the prop files, one heel tapping against a wheel of his chair as he thinks. What they need — what he imagines Martin would like — is something a little more... personal. Confrontational. He knows he'd like a chance to give Martin his complete focus, to watch him enjoy himself, to make it more about this alternate version of them. Nothing overtly romantic, of course. That would be well out of reach, and rather beside the point. He doesn't think this version of Martin wants or expects to be cherished.
Used, perhaps. Enjoyed, however disrespectfully. So all John needs to do is engineer some sort of excuse. A reason for Martin to offer himself.
He's still mulling it over when the knock comes, and he straightens the little stack of fake files near the corner of his desk before lifting his voice enough to be heard through the door. "What is it now?"
no subject
Right. Okay. Onto the next thing. Whatever the hell that is.
He starts by returning the Jones file to its drawer. It could have made for a good prop, under slightly different circumstances — something to sweep either dramatically or dismissively to the floor, depending on what sort of turn the scene takes — but he still doesn't like the idea of real files serving such a base purpose. He could easily assemble some fakes, though. Just stuff some blank printer paper into some otherwise empty folders. It's the first solid idea he's got, so he makes a detour to their little printer station on his way back to his office, helping himself to a stack of blank paper off the top of an open ream and grabbing a few empty folders to stuff.
He shuts his door, then settles in to assemble the prop files, one heel tapping against a wheel of his chair as he thinks. What they need — what he imagines Martin would like — is something a little more... personal. Confrontational. He knows he'd like a chance to give Martin his complete focus, to watch him enjoy himself, to make it more about this alternate version of them. Nothing overtly romantic, of course. That would be well out of reach, and rather beside the point. He doesn't think this version of Martin wants or expects to be cherished.
Used, perhaps. Enjoyed, however disrespectfully. So all John needs to do is engineer some sort of excuse. A reason for Martin to offer himself.
He's still mulling it over when the knock comes, and he straightens the little stack of fake files near the corner of his desk before lifting his voice enough to be heard through the door. "What is it now?"