Description: K' and Maxima stop by the YFCC to see Alma. The shortest interview in the history of mankind results, Alma's gifts enabling him to largely trust his instincts when it comes to the pair. ...of course, Alma's instincts also appear to give him the opinion K' would be good with small children, so either K' has a dark secret... or Alma's psychic senses are a bit broken. Also, Maxima wears the WORST (or best) OUTFIT EVER.
It feels less like work, somehow.
Most people returning from vacation have a hard time getting back into the swing of things at their workplace, but most people are not Alma Towazu, psychic prettyboy extraordinaire, and what he did in Metro City was not exactly a vacation in any case. Yet he didn't anticipate it being so easy to come back to, well, the paperwork. He still isn't able to spend nearly as much time with the /people/, with the volunteers, as he'd like; of course, he's grateful he has such reliable friends to delegate to, Frei and Hotaru and Mizuki chief among them. But the culmination of his varied efforts in Metro City, his personal struggles there, his reunion with his best friend and eternal rival, and his unexpected success -- both in combat and as friends -- with Acacia, has led him to return with a renewed sense of purpose that directly applies here.
The YFCC is expanding.
It won't be easy. Sometimes, the means are so much less exciting than the end that they don't seem to have anything to do with each other. To whit, the opening of a new YFCC branch in Metro City, versus sitting at his desk in Southtown considering and signing a bunch of forms and petitions, reading minutes, being badgered by Miss Clarissa Maxwell, and generally having more responsibility than he really thinks he deserves. But he's Alma Towazu, and he can't back down. Too many people believe in him. Rose-sensei believed in him. His friends believe in him.
It's just the next step.
What else would he do?
And so, sitting at his desk, radiant and elegant in his dark suit and gold tie, blond red-tinged hair faintly fluttering in the breeze from the slightly open window, the tall young fighting model smiles down at the slowly but steadily dwindling stack of work before him.
Somehow, he's content.
...Doesn't mean it's not boring, though.
"C'mon, really! It's not going to be that bad. And don't slouch! You need to look presentable, you know?"
It's been a long time since Maxima has gone to interview for a job.
He actually can't remember when last it was. Between the military work, and then almost immediately thereafter... well, dealing with -NESTS-, he's found his entire life lost to him in a sudden vaccuum of endless running and activity. All he can say for himself is that he's actually -had- job experience -- a fact that certainly couldn't be extended towards his partner.
Which is really why this is so important.
They entered approcimately three minutes ago. The hulking Canadian had asked a simple question, while the receptionist looked upwards in shock and, perhaps, some small bit of horror:
"Where is, uh... Mister 'Alma Towazu?'"
Exactly three minutes later, on the dot, Alma would hear a wrapping knock at the frame of his door. With a slow creak of it opening, the receptionist peaks her head in. "There's a, err..."
"Maxima."
"... Maxima here to see you."
The door opens all the way, allowing the impressive form of the Canadian cyborg through, along with the likely reluctant entrance of his partner, K'. And here is where the woman's shock might be seen; Maxima, tall man that he is, is dressed in an atrociously neon orange, hawaiian shirt, peppered with a series of lime green and yellow flower decorations and completed with a pair of khaki shorts and sandals. His head tilts in, first, followed by a wave of his massive right hand. "Hey there, Mr. Towazu?" A pause.
"We're here looking for some employment."
Possibly no one is as horrified by Maxima's choice of dress as K' himself. Now... he hadn't bothered to spend much time fussing over his (limited) wardrobe either. Roused just a few hours ago (he'd tried to sleep late again-- an endeavor quickly destroyed by an enthusiastic cyborg kicking in his door), he'd rolled out of bed and sleepily put on the first things he could find. But the result-- black leather jacket far too thin for the weather, black shirt, and a pair of decent, dark-wash jeans-- was still far more palatable than what he saw waiting for him by the front door.
K''s first words to his partner had been, "...are you seriously fucking going out like that?" And apparently... Maxima was.
This might be part of the reason K' sulkily dug his heels in the entire way to the YFCC, much like an angry Doberman on a leash being yanked off to someplace it patently didn't want to go. Dragging along a few paces behind Maxima as the cyborg cheerfully terrifies all who look upon him, the boy sulks with a studied furiosity. But for all that active ill temper, he's still paying attention to his surroundings. A yellow eye carefully inspects the YFCC as they're led through it, observing the occupants and their activities. Some of the kids, avid watchers of television, recognize the pair; they return K''s critical stare, and-- caught looking-- K' abruptly looks away again, huffing an annoyed breath sotto voce.
Maxima steps right on in through the door once it's opened. K' is slow to follow, edging around his partner with the practiced ease of one used to keeping company with a guy that takes up a lot of space. He lets Maxima do the talking for now, looking for all the world like the bad cop in a good-cop bad-cop pair: his yellow eyes rather obviously appraising the other young man.
Now this is much more interesting.
Blinking once, the rather subdued young man looks up from his paperwork, posture impeccably straight despite his relaxed demeanor--
~ Oh, my goodness. ~
--and pauses there.
It is a testament to his generosity of spirit and mild-mannered social grace that Alma does not react, does not even allow his lips to part in the most minimal expression of shock or aesthetic dismay. No, indeed, he appears quite cultivated for someone of his age.
And this is something of an illusion. For there is little on the surface that could distract his second sight from what there is to be seen in that other world, the vibrant color and strange newness present in the two mens' auras. The big one is astonishing; there is a lot of solidity there, it's stable, well-put together, but almost too much so. It reminds of faintly of Aislinn's aura, but only in the sense that there's something 'unnatural' about it, as though something has affected his body enough to affect the pattern of his spirit-- but it clearly arose as any mature man's does, through trial and tribulations. One to be counted on.
The handsome young man with the white hair, though, is almost /more/ fascinating. He is highly reminiscent of Jiro, perhaps one born more powerful, perhaps the Jiro that might have been had Kain's training been 'successful', and had he then left or been cut loose. There is a veritable fountain of power there, and it surges dangerously. The guy is looking him over, but Alma can't possibly be fazed-- he's too busy feeling as though the aura itself is somehow leering at him.
It's an odd way to see thw world--
"Interesting!"
--but it makes it easy to be sincere.
And he sounds sincere. Rising to his feet, the young vice-president gestures to the chairs in front of his desk, smiling softly. His voice is low and calm, not exactly corporate, and his friendliness seems genuine, impressive given the sort of people he must have to deal with on a regular basis. Honestly, seeing their auras helps a lot. It's pretty easy to remember everyone's an individual when they're shooting color all over the place.
"Please, sit down."
He waits for them to be seated before seating himself, folding his hands in his lap.
"Well, welcome to the YFCC," he continues, smile widening softly, managing to sound almost demure. "Nice to meet you, Maxima-san. And you are...?" he asks, tilting his head toward K'.
"Well, I'm happy to accept applications, part or full time," he continues. "We certainly need all the help we can get. We've been lucky to get so many volunteers, but more staff would be truly beneficial to our cause. Was there--" He pauses for a moment, as though uncertain how to phrase it. "--any particular position you were seeking?"
He can already tell they are resources he'll have to be sure not to waste, but he can't help but feel it would be awkward to let that on. Better to let them tell him what they want first.
~ I could recommend that one to Giorgio... ~
Alma's eyes mainly rest on K'.
"His name's Kevin," Maxima interjects almost as soon as Alma allows his sentence to trail.
"... Kevin Smith."
It's probably a reference that goes beyond K', but such a name at base is easier to remember than most. And easier to explain away than 'Kay Dash.' Maxima just allows that to amount to sanctioned fighting theatrics. As for him? Well.
He can always just say his mother was poor at thinking up names. It's not as patently bizarre as having a letter for a name.
Still, the Canadian's lips are split in a genuinely good-natured and easy-going grin that washes over his entire being. Unlike his partner's sulky behavior, the cyborg is far more relaxed; far more pleased to simply -be- here, it would seem. Not everyone can be as chipper as Maxima, though.
After the introductions are out of the way, he allows Alma time to get to his questions. He occupies his own time getting in a chair that is only -slightly- too small for him, the man's impressive frame fitting into the comfortable seat snugly. "Comfy," he notes pleasantly, his gaze shifting upwards to K'. "C'mon, take a seat. They're comfortable." Because he -knows- that the young man is just going to stand and glare unpleasantly otherwise.
It's just his nature.
"I'm looking for anything you have to offer, really. I can help teach the kids, or offer any other services you might need in particular. I'm flexible. ... Kevin, here..." A massive hand gestures towards K', as if to emphasize his point through the denotation, "... would probably work best in a less, uh... involved job." A pause. He considers the best way to put this.
"He's not a very good people person." But... "He'll work hard with whatever you give him, though."
That might be a tiny lie.
"Right, Kevin?"
In truth, K' was not born to the strength he possesses. The fact of the matter is, he was born frail and sick; NESTS is what made him the honed weapon he now is. But the power now laid beneath his skin does not feel natural so much as it feels caged. The boy is a tightly-coiled spring of desperate tension, constantly keeping a white-knuckled grasp on the seething fire within him... restraining it, lest it break the shell within which it has been imprisoned. He is a startling contrast to the stable, solid strength inherent in the man beside him.
Alma asks K''s name. There is a moment's worth of hesitation. The boy's aura threatens to coil into a self-deprecating, viciously humored sort of pattern, though his external countenance evinces nothing but a slight twitch that plays out a short life along one black brow. He might have replied of his own volition-- but then Maxima interjects. The obvious surprise that spikes in K''s emotional signature might be Alma's first indication that the name... is a huge lie.
Not being culturally adept, K' fails to place the reference. Nonetheless, the look he casts Maxima is deeply suspicious.
"...you -could- just call me K," he surls, mostly in Maxima's direction, dropping roughly into a chair when bid and promptly losing a few inches of height from slouching. His movements are abrupt, completely lacking in the sort of sedate easiness Maxima has. 'Kevin,' indeed. Name of God. Like he's ever going to get used enough to that name to respond to it, he'd even do better with the hated 'Kay' most people end up resorting to when he tells them his 'name.' Besides, due to the fight circuit, most people are liable to call him as K-Dash anyway, regardless of how strange the name is.
As to Maxima's words on their capabilities... well, K' starts to reconsider letting Maxima speak for him. Such is potentially risky! There is a dangerous sort of flare of discontent from K''s corner as his pride gets ruffled by the insinuation. Though the boy does little externally but slide a cold glare over towards Maxima, the sensation perceptible in his aura possesses an effect almost bestial. It's the sort of sensation one would get watching a wolf open a yellow eye, bare a fang, and rouse from quiescence. It's also a sensation that loses some of its imposing nature when K' demands darkly, "Are you saying I'm not flexible?" Oh, the delusions you entertain, K'.
Alma remains at ease. Not because he's trying to act professional. It's just too interesting. These two men-- they're just too interesting. Allowing himself to be nonplussed would just be a distraction, and he can't imagine himself distracted from this.
"Nice to meet you, K, as well," Alma says amiably enough, having waited until the handsome if odd looking young man spoke himself to greet him. "I appreciate your flexibility," he says, turning toward Maxima with a smile and a nod. "There are a number of administrative positions I think you would be quite well suited for."
What, that's it? It sounds like Alma's going to hire them on the spot, without a background check or anything. Maxima's shirt is sketchy enough. How much more sketchy is showing up and asking for a job, any kind of job? But Alma seems to trust them implicitly, for whatever reason.
And he keeps glancing at K', irresistably intrigued.
~ It's not terrifying, like Yamazaki or Yagami. It's not a taint, not a... twisted... pitiable tragedy. It's something different. Both of them-- I altogether don't understand. They only faintly resemble people I've met before... and that only because they are, after all, human... ~
"Many of us are quite young," he continues. "Our president and sponsor, Rose, is often away, and I am left in charge the majority of the time. We have dealt well so far, and our fame as tournament fighters has given us the credibility that with our youth we might otherwise lack. But your presence, Maxima-san, would surely be an assurance."
Alma tilts his head to, again, gaze at K'.
"K..."
He pauses.
And then he smiles.
"I think you would do well with children."
"Young fighters often bring their siblings along with them, sometimes because they have no choice, sometimes accidentally. Miss Hotaru Futaba is good about taking care of them, but there are getting to be many, and we were thinking about creating some programs specifically for the children, while their older counterparts are able to learn, to talk, to relax. I wouldn't ask you to organize these programs yourself, of course. But I think a presence such as yours... would be valuable."
To strike awe and terror into the hearts of the young?
"There are other options, of course."
Alma's still smiling mildly.
"But I suggest you think it over."
Only then does his smile fade, and he tilts his head slightly.
"K. It's... not a condition of your hiring, but..."
The young model actually seems more serious now.
"...would you accept a request for a friendly match?"
What, not Maxima?
"Errr..."
It's an awkward sort of pause that emits from Maxima's throat. A deep rumble of uncertainty that rises from him. Not because of Alma wishing to fight K'. Not because of the position Alma has offered him. The first he's yet to even register -- and might be -good- for K' to earn some respect anyway -- and the second is actually a very good offer that the Canadian would be crazy -not- to take. Instead--
"You think K would be good with -kids-?"
Again, silence. Maxima considers the young man's words, words exactly the opposite of what K' had earlier been talking about. K' hates interacting with people, much less children, the height of irrationality. One could only imagine what he'd do if one of them told him that the sky tasted like grape, or something.
He'd be struck in a panic. It'd be awful. Maxima would feel bad for the kids. More than that...
Maxima would feel bad for K'.
There is continued silence from Maxima. He doesn't object, of course; the decision is ultimately K''s. As is the decision to Alma's next offering. The decision to ask K' to spar and not Maxima isn't surprising to the man, for a number of reasons. One, K' simply gives -off- aggression, Maxima is largely good-natured and unassuming, despite his intimidating build. Two, Alma seems to have developed a keen interest in his partner for whatever reason. He doesn't mind. He had a giant sub before they left this afternoon.
He's not much for fighting on a full stomach.
"Give 'em a shot, K'," he suggests.
"I bet he'll give you a run for your money."
For a moment, K' actually looks taken aback. It's a rare sight to be seen indeed, when it comes to the 'Beast of Prey': a young man who usually looks sunk into some deep anger, bored, or irritated. It's not because of Alma wishing to fight him, either, something he could have predicted-- and has no intention of turning down. It's because Alma just said he thought K' would be good with -children-.
K' has never actually thought about whether he -would- be good or bad with kids; he's just sort of assumed he wouldn't be. Impatience, low tolerance, and a quick, vicious temper-- the worst things one can have when trying to deal with people. Would the same apply to children? K' can already guess he'd be at a loss around them; he tends to lock up just being in proximity to them, getting silent and awkward. In part, it's because he can't help but feel some stab of jealousy watchihng them go about their untouched, unburdened lives.
However... some things about K' are certain, where children are concerned, and perhaps that's what Alma senses about him. He would never hurt one-- and he would defend them with an undeniable ferocity should they be threatened. Why? It's because of his own failed travesty of a childhood. Because he knows what happens to children who fall into the wrong hands. He lived it. He's selfish enough his vendetta against NESTS is driven primarily by personal revenge... but neither does he want to see that cartel do to others what got done to him.
A somewhat more subdued mirror of Maxima's uncertainty, K' says nothing for a good minute. Presently he rouses, as if from deep thought, his yellow eyes finding Alma's. He clears his throat somewhat, the sound halfway between a cough and a growl, and replies slowly, "...uh. I guess we'll... see." Only one way to tell, huh.
He's considerably more resolved about Alma's request for a match. That uncertainty dissolves immediately once the other boy goes back into more familiar territory. K''s entire nature can be felt to respond at that, confidence flaring back through his emotional presence like a match dropped in oil. He was made to do this kind of thing. This is what he understands. "...thought you'd never ask," is his answer, a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth: his yellowy eyes fixing more fully on Alma's own.
These are the sorts of gambles that Alma is willing to make.
Not the fight. The fight would only be a gamble if Alma's priority was victory. It's that aura, that wildly flickering flame, that draws him in like an oustretched arm, like whispered secrets. He doesn't understand either of them, but it is K', he feels instinctively, that it is more imperative he understands.
Yet he feels he trusts both of them, and that he knows enough to calculate that offer to K', based solely on these few moments with him. It will be a challenge for him, Alma suspects, but yes, not one that he would fail so miserably as to be a threat to anyone. Another administrator might suggest K' be an enforcer, an elite guard of some kind. It's not just that it would be too easy for the man, even given the kind of people that sometimes stumble in; Duke and Remy come to mind. It's that, well...
~ It would be demeaning. ~
Surely this young man is capable of more than that.
Beating people up, the youth hazards to guess, isn't the job this K needs.
Anyway, if Alma didn't believe in people like this...
He grins, eyes gentle but warm.
...who knows where Jiro would be now?
"It would be an honor, K."
Grin subsiding into a smile, he looks between the two men.
"Miss Maxwell will provide you both with the necessary paperwork," he says. She won't be happy with his abruptness, but then, she never is. It's not like his receptionist and personal assistant will take it out on them. "We'll deal with the specifics as they arise." It's understated, but boy, this guy is really confident, in his way. "From now on, consider yourselves part of the YFCC team."
Alma rises, extending a hand to each in turn, still smiling.
"The wheels are turning," he adds, eyes glinting with a determination, a sincere rock-solid resolve, otherwise belied by his mild-mannered demeanor.
~ And new opportunities arise. ~
"I'm looking forward to working with you both."
Log created on 00:36:01 11/30/2007 by K', and last modified on 17:48:34 11/30/2007.