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 Posted: Fri Sep 22, 2017 8:53 am
Kavinsky was, for all intents and purposes, an extraordinarily private person. He didn't offer much information up about himself but he hardly pried into other's affairs unless he was purposely being an a**. However, since Rob was being the prying a*****e, he had no intention of contributing to the conversation with anything meaningful.
"No." He snapped, whatever he's gripping snaps and a splinter of wood comes off in his hand. It's too small to be concerning and he discarded it on the ground beside him. "идиот," he muttered beneath his breath.
"You're distracting. If you're going to insist on yammering in my ear as I work, I may have to tack on an additional charge." Maybe that would shut the ******** man up.
It wasn't like music or white noise that helped him focus, instead, Rob's insistence on carrying a conversation kept pulling him out of the zone and possibly lending to rookie mistakes. He took pride in quality work and at this point he was about to go <******** it and do a sloppy job.
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Posted: Fri Sep 22, 2017 11:45 pm
Eyebrows rose when he heard the sound of wood snap. Alright, perhaps the Russian Hulk was being pushed a little too far. The lawyer did have half a mind to cut it out, up until the angry young man decided to threaten him with a price increase.
All it could have taken was a polite do you mind or would you please like a normal, civilized human being for Rob to back off and give him space. But no. No, angry Craigslist d**k K, Refuser of Doorbells, Owner of Hipster Hats, had to be socially stunted about it and then threaten to upcharge him for holding conversation.
"Mister Kavinsky, I'm not sure if you realize that going back on your initial agreement without first stipulating that there is a potential for additional charges could be constituted as fraud."
Eyes narrowed for a brief moment as seriousness settled in his voice. Then, just like that, he was grinning again. "That being said, I could use a decent conversation."
The second glass was drained, a cheerful buzz now coursing through him. The tumbler was shaken, ice cubes clinking against the glass. "How much extra are you asking for, then?"
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Posted: Tue Sep 26, 2017 10:18 am
"Agreement's not written, you'd have a hard time holding up a verbal agreement in court." Kavinsky spit right back at him, silver eyes narrowed into what would have been seen as a glare. "Regardless," his gruff, slightly accented voice continued, "I'm not back charging and I'm giving you an opportunity to cease and dismiss."
Mostly he just wanted the man to shut up and leave him alone.
"Most clients leave me to work alone, a conversation charge usually doesn't come up." It never had actually. Most people didn't care to be in the same room as him while he worked because he looked like he might beat the s**t out of them. He wouldn't, unless provoked, but it was a nice benefit when he wanted to y'know focus on work.
"Ten an hour for you to talk at me. Fifteen if you want bare bones responses, and twenty-five if you expect me to have a real conversation with you." They seemed reasonable to him and he wasn't much of a talker so a steeper charge for proper responses didn't seem unreasonable to him.
"Or, you could leave me be and you'll only be charged what I quoted you." So basically, leave me alone.
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Posted: Tue Sep 26, 2017 7:53 pm
"You haven't seen me in the courtroom, my friend." He snorted, mildly amused at the simple error, "And I think you mean cease and desist."
Still, he dropped the subject - it didn't matter to him, really. His stuff was getting fixed and he was finding entertainment out of picking on the grumbling teenager who'd accepted the job. Overall, not a completely terrible evening. Was he reaching a little bit when it came to looking for fun? Maybe.
"Kind of a steep jump from fifteen to twenty-five." He sauntered his way over towards the breakfast bar, taking a seat on the adjacent stool. "How do I know that having a real conversation with you is going to be any different than the "bare bones" package?"
Hell, he didn't even need rum at this point to enjoy himself. Maybe if he was lucky, he'd get a couple more Russian curse words issued his way.
"What about we call it an even twenty for a mix between?"
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Posted: Tue Sep 26, 2017 8:44 pm
Teeth grit against each other and his nostrils flared. Kavinsky had to actively count in his head to make sure he didn't lose his s**t on the cocky lawyer who thought he was so great.
"Thirty, for an added a*****e tax." He snapped, barely keeping his increasing irritation from completely getting the better of him.
At this point he had stopped working, standing up to his full height instead of being hunched over his work, to turn and face the older man. A strong jaw ticked as muscular arms folded over his chest and he sought to meet the man's gaze.
It was clear that he was not going to budge about the price now.
"I'm not here to negotiate or have a conversation. I'm here to fix the s**t your cat broke so, if you want to keep talking to me and get any response at this point, that's the cost."
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Posted: Tue Sep 26, 2017 9:01 pm
"a*****e tax?"
The look on his face was nothing short of incredulous. It was hard to keep from laughing - who the hell did this kid think he was? Calling him an a*****e when he was about to shell out over three hundred bucks to him? And then some more, just for a funny response at his insistence to being charged for talking?
"You're going to tax me when you've probably been evading the IRS with your side jobs this entire time? That's rich, kid, real rich."
Reaching in to his back pocket, his wallet came out and the side billfold was opened. Two crisp twenty dollar bills cane out and he tossed them on the countertop. The smirk was almost a sneer as he said, leaning back. "Consider the rest a tip."
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Posted: Tue Sep 26, 2017 9:29 pm
Pads of his fingers pressed into the flesh of his bicep as he looked back at Banks, jaw set and his expression impassive save for the furrowing of white brows. It was tempting to retort, but he kept his mouth clamped shut.
The more he talked, the more he fed into whatever the lawyer thought he was winning and, as far as Kavinsky was concerned, <******** that.
Silver flashed when the money was fished out and discarded on the countertop like it was nothing. Hell, to the old man it probably was. Banks didn't have to scrimp and save and scavenge for whatever he could just to able to pretend that he lived a life outside of work and odd jobs that didn't always cover rent.
Telling Banks to ******** off was tempting but instead, he pushed off the counter where he was resting, snagged his jacket and walked out of the room. Jean jacket was tugged up over his arms and the collar fixed before hands slid into the pockets where he could wrap his hand around his lighter and the pack of cigarettes he kept on him.
Kavinsky wanted to walk away, to storm out completely and abandon the job.
But it was half of the rent, or close to, for the apartment that he and Ellis shared. As much as he hated to admit it he needed the money but he also needed to cool off.
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Posted: Wed Sep 27, 2017 12:58 am
When the Russian grabbed his jacket, Rob had an immediate moment of regret. He'd finally done it, finally pissed the kid off to the point of leaving. His assumption that the grumpy b*****d was in dire need of the cash must have been off - and now he was going to pay the price by not only being forced to wait for a professional company to come out but to be charged an arm and a leg for doing so.
"Hey, I--"
His phone began to ring (typical) and he paused for a moment, as if forgetting where his thought was going. He frowned, then fished his cell out of his pocket to at least see who it was.
The office. Crap.
One finger held itself out as if insisting the repairman stop his walking, but K didn't seem to pay him any heed. Noting that the bag of tools stayed on the ground, his shoulders relaxed and he moved to turn in his stool, swiping the call button to answer. Words rambled on as he listened to his overeager intern, the lawyer only pausing to cover the receiver as he called out over his shoulder, "a*****e tax gets absorbed into the break fee, if you're planning on taking a while!"
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Posted: Thu Sep 28, 2017 11:56 am
It was like Banks wanted to piss him off so badly that he left.
Kavinsky held onto the shreds of his self control to avoid putting a fist through the wall as he passed it. Instead, fingers toyed with the worn hem of his jacket and he stepped out the front door with the annoying almost-worse-than-nails-on-a-chalk-board voice grating on the fraying edges of his nerves when the screen slammed into place behind him.
He didn't bother to step away from the door and instead sat on the first stone step, smokes fished out of his pocket and one slipped between his teeth. The first inhale seemed to soothe his nerves a touch, even if he was seriously debating if sticking around was worth the money.
But rent was due in a week and he hadn't made enough to supplement his half. ********. He was going to have to stick around.
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Posted: Thu Sep 28, 2017 9:57 pm
The phone call lasted approximately eight minutes and forty seconds. In that time, he'd managed to shed his shoes, roll up his sleeves, delegate four tasks to his intern and realize his appetite had yet to be sated for the evening.
Clicking the phone off, he glanced towards his cabinet. Eh. There wasn't a mojo for cooking, not tonight. And if he was dropping a pretty dime on repairs anyways, what was another twenty down the drain?
He scrolled through his phone to find the closest (and easiest) restaurant available. The lawyer was about to hit call when he paused. Debating for a moment, he then moved towards the front door. Sticking his head out from behind the screen, he addressed the man on his porch.
"Hey, I'm ordering delivery from the little deli joint down the street. Decent chicken salad, at least. You want anything?"
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Posted: Fri Sep 29, 2017 2:28 pm
He had been nursing the cigarette the entire time. He was down to five and payday wasn't for another two day. That meant he had to be careful with how many he smoked and what drove him to smoke in the first place. Few things were worse than an over worked, running on a few hours of sleep and no smokes Kavinsky.
When Rob peeked his head out, he had just finished ashing what was left of the cigarette. The lighter and the carton were returned to his jacket when he stood, hands dusting off the back of his jeans.
"Pass." He answered as gruffily as ever. Kavinsky wasn't going to get into the fact that he couldn't afford whatever was being ordered nor was he willing to have the cost extracted from the money he was bringing in with this job.
In fact, the teen didn't say anything else as he shouldered his way past the older man and back into the kitchen where the almost finished window waited.
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Posted: Sat Sep 30, 2017 10:54 am
As the angry guest blew past him, Rob caught a whiff of what he could only assume was a mixture of cigarettes and sweat. An eyebrow rose as his offer was dismissed so quickly, the phone now at his ear and the echoing sound of the number on the other end ringing.
A quick snap about the expense behind smoking was on the tip of his tongue but for once, Robert Banks kept quiet. Eyes moved from the repairman over to the empty glass by his paperwork - at the end of the day, everyone had their own vices, one way or another.
The voice on the other end of the phone clicked through and thoughts were quickly cast aside. Fingers rose to pinch the bridge of his nose absentmindedly as he recalled his order. Sandwich, right. Club. Side of chicken salad.
Eyes glanced over towards the man making his way behind the counter. Hm. There wasn't enough time to flip a coin over it, but..
"Make that a double," he suddenly added, his voice not particularly loud when addressing the cashier on the other end of the call. The total and time was given and he slipped the phone back into his pocket before returning to the couch, slumping down onto the soft surface.
The next fifteen went by with a surprising amount of silence. Well, surprising for maybe Kavinsky - Robert found himself engrossed with the remainder of his paperwork. Playtime was fun but all fun and no work made for one poor lawyer.
Dinner's arrival was the next breaking moment, when eyes finally left the screen in front of him. The laptop had been clicking away at various documents to reference the paperwork in front of him. Trivial, overflowered legal jargon to get simple points across and keep loopholes out. Nice in practice, pain in the a** to sift through.
Paying for the food, one sandwich and side was dropped next to the paperwork on the coffee table. The remaining food was left in the plastic bag, unceremoniously dropped on the kitchen counter for the other young man to take notice of.
"The bill had to reach fifteen before they'd deliver anyways."
Abandoning the food, he returned to his minibar and refilled his glass before returning to his self-made nest of paperwork and food on the couch. The glass was gently homed on the opposite side of the food, which found its way into the older man's grip as he hesitated, glancing over towards Kavinsky.
"It's just a sandwich." The tone was a tad bit more defensive than he'd have liked but the need to justify his actions seemed required, especially with present company. "I'm not going to make you pay for it, if that's what you're worried about."
With that, he unwrapped the paper from around his own and took a bite.
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Posted: Mon Oct 02, 2017 8:41 am
It was a miracle.
Robert Banks had shut his goddamn mouth for fifteen beautiful and glorious minutes. There were no words exchanged between them and the only sounds were his tools against wood or the scratch of a pen against paper. Right up until the doorbell rang announcing that whatever the ******** Banks had ordered arrived. His glorious silence was shattered as feet shuffled in and a bag was deposited on the kitchen counter top.
Kavinsky tensed and stilled, hoping that like an ostrich who stuck it's head in the ground, if he didn't move he would be left alone. What a pipe dream that was, because like nails on a chalk board, Banks' voice was grating on his still frayed nerves. Sharply he looked over his shoulder with an arched brow.
It took a few minutes and for Banks to leave the room for him to even properly acknowledge that the lawyer had insisted on buying him food. Instead, he went straight back to work and only said anything when he stood up and stretched his limbs. "Window's finished." The shuffling of his tools back into their respective places could be heard and then, the wrinkling of plastic.
If Rob looked at him as he crossed the room to get to the broken door he would see that the sandwich bag was clutched tightly in his hand. A short five minutes later and he would see it half eaten by his tools as he worked on fixing the door.
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Posted: Mon Oct 02, 2017 1:40 pm
Like approaching a timid deer, Rob knew better than to say anything that would startle the irritable repairman and throw a wrench - figuratively - into the moment. The sandwich had not only been received but, judging by what he could see from his position on the couch, it had also been partially devoured.
Good.
There was a strange sense of satisfaction, knowing he'd gotten his way once again. Really, he shouldn't give two craps about whether or not the man ate, but it was the principle of it all that delighted the lawyer.
Setting the remains of his own food down, he chased the bites down with another sip from his glass before readjusting his paperwork and ensuring its tidiness.
Well... better take advantage of that extra thirty dollars that he was being charged for, eh?
"So what brought you to DC, K?"
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Posted: Thu Oct 05, 2017 7:58 am
Kavinsky knew better than to believe that he was going to get through the rest of the evening without the stupid lawyer opening his big mouth that he sure loved to flap about. Still, he had hoped that there would be some proper reprieve from his voice. He knew it was stupid to hope, but he had and when Banks lumbered over he carefully eased out an exasperated sigh.
"Nothing." Came his curt response, screw driver working the screw into place.
That wasn't the truth, not really, so he forced himself to amend the statement because he didn't lie. "Moved a lot when I was a kid, before my dad died."
Poor little Pietro--
He shook his head, chin tipping and silver lifting to meet hazel, to push those memories back. "He went where ever he could find work." And to get away from the rumors that kept making him lose jobs. It wasn't enough, in the end.
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