schoolboy rivalry to something else

It was only a few days until Valentine's twenty-first birthday, the worst time of the year, so it made oh-so perfect sense that he was about to do something awful, humiliating, and outright bizarre.

That's right. He was going to ask Dorian Crawford for advice. The utter prat. God. Resorting to putting your livelihood and future in the hands of an old classroom rival! It was called… sucking it up and being an adult. Val was sickened, but also (he hoped), resigned to his fate, and understood that sacrifices had to be made for the sake of maturity and long term gain. In a logical, distanced sense, he understood all of this. He kept reminding himself of that.

He'd contacted Dorian about getting together, and had, in fact, specified it was business related rather than a sudden social call. Like an out of the blue business summons was any better. Past that, no details. It wasn't overly odd behavior from Val. He had a great distaste for texting, and any directions he sent through that format tended to be clipped and straight to the point. In this case, however, Val had texted instead of made plans over the phone very specifically because he was so embarrassed by this whole thing.

And he didn't want Dorian to find out. If he had to find out, it was going to be put off for as long as possible. This man didn't need the satisfaction to come easier than it already was-- it was being bloody thrown in his lap, for fuck's sake. Here, Crawford, a Christmas gift. My dignity. I wrapped it in a pretty box with ribbons and everything.

Val chose a cafe in the richer part of the Downtown area. He was hoping it'd discourage Dorian from making fun of him as much, or lose his shit, in public. He wasn't going to be able to torment him, this place was full of rich people. There was also a chance Val had miscalculated and he wouldn't care, or would be too blinded by the hilarity of what was happening between them, but there was nothing more to be done. He'd texted Dorian. He was already sitting at a window seat, fingers slowly rapping on the table. He had to get this over with. Then he could pretend it never happened. Not find himself drifting off and daydreaming about Dorian's stupid face.

The longer he sat here, the worse it was. Kill him now. Val sipped at his hot chocolate and looked over the notes in his journal again, gnawing frustratedly on his lip. He wanted this more than he didn't want Dorian to embarass him. That's why he was here. The idea of seeing Dorian again wasn't bad either, though he knew it'd end in a hissyfit, because it always did. Before that happened, the concept was too appealing. Get it over with. Get it over with. You want this, you want it more than you want to give in to your nerves. You want this, and that means, like anything you've ever wanted, you're going to work for it. Chin up, Crowther. He doodled a chipper looking skull and smiled.

He flushed and scribbled over it, after that.

Valentine peered at Dorian, with his dapper suit. This almost felt like meeting as strangers. Adults. Made him blink a bit, briefly overwhelmed by such concepts. The effect lasted until Dorian opened his mouth, and then, Val's expression fell straight into that of a reptile at the zoo whose glass was being knocked on. He would've hissed, but that was too ridiculous. Even if Dorian couldn't be an adult with him, Val was trying his very best. It wasn't his fault that he sometimes broke, when presented with this jackass who never wasted any time trying to sabotage him.

He bit back the usual scathing reply. He was a fucking adult, and here to ask for help. No hissy fits yet. "Good afternoon, Dorian," Val greeted, nodding. He couldn't return the smile, and it would've felt odd to force it with this person, but his tone was welcoming. "It has been a while, hasn't it?" He tapped his lip, sipping at his chocolate again. "Last time we were out like this, it was for talking about school projects. I'm not a part of that world anymore."

"However," he continued, clearing his throat. "I am looking into new things. One of which involves a lot of aspects you've been intimately familiar with, for years now. And you are a business major, politics is on the side, while still running that school group. My point being that you... have a lot of experience," oh, did it ever grate like rusty nails to say that out loud, "and I felt it would be beneficial to contact you and see if you'd share any stories and thoughts on the matter."

Val looked Dorian dead in the eyes. He'd just elaborately avoided saying 'I want your advice, and think you know something better than I do', but they both knew how to read between the lines. He refused to allow his face to color or lips to twitch at all, but took one more gulp of hot chocolate to calm his nerves. Chocolate was always his comfort indulgence. "...So, do you want to hear about what I'm planning, or not?"

The first of all Dorian started with made Valentine want to put his face in his hands, because it could only mean the other man was about to say something snippy. Val raised an eyebrow, lips pursing slightly, but allowed it. After that, he explained. "I said business meeting because I wanted to make it clear I had a serious, business related matter to discuss, and wasn't wasting your time for something that wasn't important to me. You're a busy person, Dorian. I wanted to do this earlier rather than later. Social calls are put off more in comparison to something that's going to have pressing relevance, and for me, this does."

With another moment's consideration, he raised a brow and added, "I'm a professional and an adult, there's no need to go around punching anyone. We aren't in highschool and surely I can't feel that malicious towards you if I'm about to trust your words. Please, we were classmates, and you were," he felt his cheeks turn a bit pink, and was endlessly annoyed with that, "intelligent and worthy of my respect. Posed a challenge to improve with. There's no need to have some kind of… silly tension, right now. Let's move on."

Val rolled his eyes at the legal-ass-screwing comment, but leaned forward, fully ready to speak on this. "It's… It's called Crowther Afterlife Resource Institute. CARI, for short." He coughed. "I thought it sounded cute. But that's off topic. It's for everything relating to death magic, which is a very widespread, but underappreciated field-- we have so many individuals close to the subject floating around without being attached to much or getting more personalized attention, and really, they need it. I don't want to settle for only an Academy club in this area. There have been things before but they're too closed off and elite based, it's difficult for younger, shyer, less educated people to access, and I don't like that."

He twiddled his fingers a bit. "Multiple branches. Research, reaping, undeath, and social as the main categories to cover things, I think. I want to use my family's money to support a lot of it, and hopefully be able to bring in donors. The intentions here aren't based around earning more for myself, is what I mean. Not selfless, of course. It'd be very significant for my studies, and to make my name more worthy of comfort-- not to mention, something to individualize me from my family."

He was looking into his mug, as though the lingering whipped cream in his hot chocolate was doing something interesting. He glanced up to anxiously check Dorian's expression and body language for anything negative. "I know it's ambitious. Almost laughably so, for someone like me, who still doesn't have any relevance. That's why I'm…" Oh, god. He swallowed his pride. "Asking for advice. I don't want to fuck it up. Do you understand? I can't fuck this up, for myself or any of these people that may grow invested in the project, but I want to do it. Need to. I don't think anyone else has the drive to do this, despite my lack of experience, so I'm fucking doing it no matter how hard it ends up or not. I'm not scared."

Val cleared his throat, embarrassed with the show of emotion and edge of desperation, resigned-- with a grimace-- to any mockery he could receive for it. He wasn't about to take it back, even if saying that much had been unnecessary and might make him seem too immature to Dorian. Here's the thing. He was! He hadn't done this before, and despite his intelligence, he needed it to be clear that he was ready to absorb any advice, condescending or not, because he saw this as more heavy than his own ego. He had to do his best, and maybe he wasn't there yet, but he could be. If given the chance, he could be.

Valentine visibly relaxed a bit after Dorian said he'd help. He didn't sound that moved by it, so perhaps the only intent was to show how much better he knew and take credit for cleaning up Val's messy plans, but you know what, fine. Whatever got the job done. That's what he'd promised to make his mindset, and he kept drilling it in, at every point he wanted to squirm. He nodded eagerly, instead, to what Dorian was saying. And mostly, kept his mouth shut.

"I thought that might be the case," Val said, a bit shy. "But started with it in case there were ways to force it to work, and just. To be clear about what I care about, here. It isn't the money. But if that's what it takes to let it survive, so be it." He leaned in further and looked at the notebook page he was being shown. "All of that can be done. That's good. Research is my top priority and what's leading how everything else is done."

He started writing down everything Dorian was saying, cheeks flushed with the excitement and nervousness of everything. He was jittery as hell, having to stop his hand from trembling while he wrote. "Right, right, right. Of course," he muttered along with the words. I should've known, was what kept coming to mind, but sometimes outside perspectives were best to kick you into shape.

Now came a point that he could step in on. "Not a bad thing. Not at all! Think of all the restless, miserable spirits lingering around in this world. Some of them can't move on by themselves. Reaping isn't simply swinging a scythe and calling it a day, they also do a great deal of working through issues that might be keeping a ghost stuck, consoling them, and so on. I used to think it was a joke, when I was younger, but turns out not so much. A good reaper that doesn't half ass a job can be vital to a lot of situations, else more trouble arises and people start whining about houses trying to eat them alive. Getting the picture there? Not fun. I prefer reapers over self proclaimed ghost hunters, as the latter is often malicious, and reapers are built to be sympathetic in nature to the souls they're helping move on." He took a breath. He supposed he was getting good practice for future educational lectures he'd be giving, or pamphlets to create. "Government sponsorship sounds both reasonable and doable. I think that's a good idea."

He laughed when they got to social. "That much, I think I can cover. Shoving the social media to interns also sounds worthwhile. I hate things like that." Barely even texted. That twitter garbage? All Clarence. Nonsense. How was he supposed to express himself through so little characters? He wasn't some kind of illiterate imbecile.

Peering at the notebook that'd been slid over, then at Dorian, he checked them to see if there was anything he'd missed in their conversation, anything extra, and copied that down too, paranoid to miss even a single tip. Slowly, he looked up to Dorian again. "Yes," he said, quietly. "I don't want it. I just want this." He swallowed.

Then, he took his mug, and stood up to go sit next to Dorian. His hand hovered hesitantly near the other man's shoulder before settling back down. A shoulder squeeze would be pushing it, despite the impulse. Val was already invading his space to try and show sincerity. "Thank you. These thoughts are all invaluable, possibly even lifesaving. I'm very grateful, especially since we weren't the most friendly towards each other in school, so it isn't as though you have any sort of obligation towards me, socially or in business. Hopefully, I'll do something with this guidance that you can respect, and maybe eventually be impressed by. I'll make that a goal, in fact." He gave Dorian a genuine smile, for once.

"I won't be wasting my chance after getting this far, you can count on it, I'll make that clear. Big words for a recent graduate, but… Eh. It's not like being without confidence is any better. You'll just have to wait and see whether I do well or fall flat on my face. If it's the latter, I give you full permission to laugh at me. I won't punch you."

[tom=http://i.imgur.com/OxKuqIp.png, #483d8b]However oblivious Valentine happened to be towards Dorian's crush, it was hard to miss that he'd made him embarrassed. Val's expression was slowly moving into similarly baffled territory, watching that pretty boy face turn red. It wouldn't have been the first time he'd caused nervousness in another person, he'd often been purposeful in it, so he was alert to the little things, a sharp man. When Dorian started stumbling over his words like that, it meant he was about to do something impressively stupid. Val smiled, strained, lips twitching at the edges with his growing irritation. We were playing nice. Damn it.

Dorian shortly left for the bathroom, taking his briefcase with him. Val didn't even take a few moments to realize, and abruptly stood up himself, gritting his teeth. He dug through his coat and left cash on the table, then took his cane and exited the cafe through the front doors. Mentally mapping the area out, he turned into the parking lot, where he spotted Dorian fucking bolting it.

Val's strained smile fell completely, hand clenching around the cane. So much for polite business meetings. So much for behaving like an adult!

"FUCKING CRAWFORD!" Val yelled, pointing his cane at the fleeing Dorian, accusing. "Come back here, asshole! What's your problem with me?" He wasn't thinking straight at all, and pretty embarrassed himself-- opening up and having Dorian run away like a coward. How was he supposed to feel? Was it that unbearable to hear him say nice, personal things? Christ!

This was ridiculous, but he could hardly leave Dorian alone now, after following him in the first place. They were already acting silly, and being flustered pissed Val off. Fuck it. He swung his cane up to rest on his shoulder, grip tight, ready for a chase if necessary. And... perhaps a tiny bit ready to smack Dorian.[/tom]