Making Martin laugh while sober is even better than doing so while drunk, and John secrets his pleased little smile away into his cup under the guise of taking another sip. It's still more than a bit foreign, achieving something like a--a friendly rapport with anyone, let alone Martin. He doesn't think he's been this comfortable with someone since Georgie, discounting the quieter understanding he and Daisy had shared.
Well. 'Comfortable' might be a bit of a stretch. Part of him is still on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop, like this can't possibly be allowed to continue unabated. Georgie had stopped speaking to him, after all -- written him off as a lost cause, as far as he can gather -- and he was never Daisy's first choice for company. He can't help the quiet conviction that sooner or later, this glimmer of light will be snuffed out, too.
But for now, it's... it's nice. And as he considers Martin from over the rim of his cup, taking in how happy and relaxed he looks, he can't help but want to foster it however he can.
And it doesn't take long for an option to occur to him. John had initially taken it for granted that he'd be the one in charge, to whatever extent that applied. He has more managerial experience, and it feels closer to the natural order of things, for them. And he's not a bad manager. An unkind one, certainly, and while he likes to think he could do better on that front, that isn't saying much. The bar was in a bloody ditch, last he checked. Still, he could do it, and do it well enough that no one would think better of it.
But it doesn't delight him. It wouldn't bring him the sort of satisfaction that has Martin all but aglow as he casually assumes the responsibility of wrangling city officials on John's behalf. And Martin's hardly short on experience, these days; he'd been assisting Peter Lukas for months, and doubtless shouldering all the work that couldn't be done via memo. He could probably run The Archive in his sleep.
Not that John intends to foist anything on him; that wouldn't be fair. But he does hum pensively through another sip of tea, figuring there's no harm in putting the idea out there, if Martin wants it. "Well. There's no reason they couldn't just... speak to the manager directly," John says slowly, looking at Martin with a pointed, inquiring lift of his eyebrows to indicate that he is decidedly not referring to himself.
no subject
Well. 'Comfortable' might be a bit of a stretch. Part of him is still on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop, like this can't possibly be allowed to continue unabated. Georgie had stopped speaking to him, after all -- written him off as a lost cause, as far as he can gather -- and he was never Daisy's first choice for company. He can't help the quiet conviction that sooner or later, this glimmer of light will be snuffed out, too.
But for now, it's... it's nice. And as he considers Martin from over the rim of his cup, taking in how happy and relaxed he looks, he can't help but want to foster it however he can.
And it doesn't take long for an option to occur to him. John had initially taken it for granted that he'd be the one in charge, to whatever extent that applied. He has more managerial experience, and it feels closer to the natural order of things, for them. And he's not a bad manager. An unkind one, certainly, and while he likes to think he could do better on that front, that isn't saying much. The bar was in a bloody ditch, last he checked. Still, he could do it, and do it well enough that no one would think better of it.
But it doesn't delight him. It wouldn't bring him the sort of satisfaction that has Martin all but aglow as he casually assumes the responsibility of wrangling city officials on John's behalf. And Martin's hardly short on experience, these days; he'd been assisting Peter Lukas for months, and doubtless shouldering all the work that couldn't be done via memo. He could probably run The Archive in his sleep.
Not that John intends to foist anything on him; that wouldn't be fair. But he does hum pensively through another sip of tea, figuring there's no harm in putting the idea out there, if Martin wants it. "Well. There's no reason they couldn't just... speak to the manager directly," John says slowly, looking at Martin with a pointed, inquiring lift of his eyebrows to indicate that he is decidedly not referring to himself.