Fast Max

http://pics.livejournal.com/7s_mod/pic/00012dby

It wasn't much of an incident, but still, he fully expected Stephen to have words with him about it.

The press-conference was very ... impromptu. Or rather, Stephen Lamarck had appeared in the building of a business associate, escorted only by his head of security by means of a bodyguard, and had walked out to a small ambush of journalists who had flocked there after news of coming lay-offs of a significant scale were considered by that associate. So far, they hadn't managed to get what they had been looking for.

But the owner of Archer Imports walking out was a whole different variety of prey. Because he hasn't made major lay-offs, nor were any supposed to be forthcoming. (They weren't.)

What is his source of additional income in the conditions of economic recession? Is he involved in illegal activities? Is he laundering money for foreign companies?

Stephen answered calmly. Good planning and steady business contacts around the world, no, no laundering anybody's money, just balancing locations where the recession was at different stages, and no, his employees were safe, as far as he could say, from joining the increasing number of jobless people.

His look behind his shoulder looked bland enough - to all but his rather silent bodyguard. Who deciphered it absolutely correctly as irritation. There were plenty of business of the company that was... well, from shady in the eye of the law, to worse. Smuggling, to begin with. Not to mention the magical artifacts, and a few other choice activities.

Stephen wrapped what he was going to say with the usual, 'thank you for your questions, that will be all.'

The journalists, who had probably been sharpening their teeth, wanted something meatier to bite into. They pressed.

Max loomed, moving to stand beside his boss. Didn't exactly growl, but attempted to push through the group politely.

And unsuccessfully.

His shoulders tensed; the shorter man by his side looked sideways and arched his brows, very slightly.

Max's eyes narrowed. He paused, then murmured a single word. Most of the journalists thought he probably swore; those closest thought the word was something like "Hexus." Which made no sense at all.

Next thing they know, every single item of technology - cameras, microphones, recorders, phones, pagers, electric watches even - gave way. As in started smoking and stopped working. The one in the pocket of the woman who had phrased her question particularly unpleasantly even caught on fire, creating minor panic.

Neither of the two men in the center of the ensuing chaos blinked or cracked a smile. Max just got his boss out of there and into the car before any semblance of organization had started to reoccur, whether on personal or pack level.

It wasn't much of an incident, but still, he fully expected Stephen to have words with him about it. About using magic too much in the open; it was dangerous.

Of course, that would have to wait at least until his boss stopped laughing.

The question should be, is it worth trying to do, not can it be done. -Allard Lowenstein

Stephen is delamarck. Kendra and Mallory are characters related to that unepxected plot from a while back, if somewhat later, after events that are still being worked on.

Max was staring at the letter in his hands when a small stirring of the air let him know his office's door had been opened. No knock, and silence - his eyes only flicked to the incomer's feet to confirm his guess who it was out of habit.

"It was your idea, wasn't it?"

"What was?"

Now he looked up at his boss, and waved the letter, the familiar paper of a missive from the White Council hard to mistake. Stephen's face took on an ah expression at that and Max rolled his eyes.

"You mean about Kendra. Well... her current mentor was clearly not up to dealing with her right now. You don't have an apprentice--" Max still gave a small ... twitch at that word, "-- and you have a gift for making people feel better that the girl sorely needs. And she has a great bulk of still too-raw talent that you can definitely help her deal with."

"Stephen..."

"Yes?"

"... I'm a kid-runaway from home who was taken in by Warden as an act of mercy and, in many ways, well, uneducated. I'm far from certain I'm fit to mentor anybody."

The confident look slipped just for an instant into 'incredulous' - so quickly past, in fact, that there were about two, maybe three people who could read it, within the smooth facade - but one of them was in the room. "What do you think you've been doing with, oh, just about every cadre you've got assigned or have taken in for the security department, Parker?"

"That's different. This is what I do, and they're already... good at it too when we pick them up, it's just a question of direction. No... no shaping. What if I just... lose her?" Heavens knew that girl had pain and anger enough in her for that to be a real concern.

"Maximilian Parker, are you going to sit there and tell me that you're actually considering not undertaking the task because of fear of failure?"

"Guess so."

"That's a first."

"There's a first to anything, isn't there?"

"Listen to yourself." Stephen's fluid motions had him at and around Max's desk in no time at all, hand hovering over his shoulder, next to his ear, possibly wondering whether to grip or smack him. "Don't mean to say that you think somebody who's never seen her in her life, doesn't know her story, hasn't seen her stumble, half-stunned, in my office as she did, hasn't seen what works and what doesn't around her, and, most of all, hasn't known Mallory" this bit got Max to wince and look up "will have a better chance at not ... losing her!"

"I... No. Probably not."

"Is she worth your time?"

"Of course she is, it's the other way arou--"

"Never mind that. It's something that's worth doing, and you know it. And she needs what you can give her."

"She knows you better, trusts you."

"Yes, but she'll have to compete for time with me with the whole of the lot out there." Stephen indicated the office building. The company he was running. "That's not going to be fair to her."

"And she's had quite her full of unfair, hasn't she."

Stephen nodded, and Max shook his head. "I know nothing of what to teach an apprentice."

"You'll learn. Go. Talk to the girls' previous mentor, he'll bring you up to date. Help her pack up, we'll settle her somewhere that she'll find convenient."

"Right." Max rose, gave a small, thoughtful smile to his boss, and touched his arm briefly. "Right. I'll be back later." That got him an eyeroll.

"Your schedule will be flexible enough to--"

"I'm not laxing in the duties I have for something new, Stephen. Don't you even think you're going to miss your head of security."

Small smile. "Good. I rather hoped you'd see it that way."

Small snort, and the larger man was out the room.

Hey, boss? Flowers or chocolates?