<div class="floatleft">(http://0169acf2b41053510793-a17828a56d1fe6987c3860aa718002a9.r21.cf3.rackcdn.com/6873_f2fb64dc-17a0-4222-bbf0-291c8ef070d8.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Thomas Malcolm<br/><strong>Status:</strong>Employee - Junior Copywriter<br/><strong>Date | Time:</strong>January 5th, 2011 | Late Afternoon<br/><strong>Location:</strong>The Pierre, Penthouse.  NYC<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Blue suit and tie<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Erica Everett (Richards)<strong>Mentioned:</strong>Mr. Richards<br/><strong>Content Warning:</strong>Flabberghastedness<hr/><br/>The blue suit. It matched his eyes, someone had told him, made them sparkle, offsetting the gentle tan that he had acquired the old-fashioned way, as well as accentuating the golden stubble that touched his face despite the fact that he had shave just that morning. He looked sharp, clean, business-like, and he looked like he was going to a business meeting, despite the lateness of the hour and where he was going. And they wouldn't exactly be wrong to think so, he mused, stepped smoothly out of the cab and paying the driver. It wasn't your regular kind of business meeting, but it was business, and it was a meeting.<br/><br/>And he suddenly felt like he was the new guy again, brought onto a new team, standing in front of said team presenting his ideas for the first time.<br/><br/>The divorce involving their boss and his wife had been stuff of legend even before he'd started with Fhloston. It hadn't been helped by the fact that the wife had been one of the major stock-holders in the company. The whys and wherefores of the whole thing had been the subject of speculation around water coolers at the office. Some said that she had cheated on him, others that he had cheated on her, others still that they had both cheated on each other and finally decided to call things quits. What was known was that both were on poor terms with each other, and neither would let go of their shares in the company in order to avoid the other. Like two mountain goats, they were destined to be butting heads for a long, long time.<br/><br/>Which was why his heart had sunk when, as he was packing his stuff up and heading home, Mr. Richards had entered his office, handed him a fistful of sheets concerning the holiday season ad campaign, and told him to present it in as convincing a way as he could to a major stock holder that was in town.<br/><br/>Oh, and bee-tee-double-u, that major stockholder happened to be his ex-wife and he would be meeting her at her penthouse. Bye!<br/><br/>Fuck.<br/><br/>Thomas adjusted his tie, well aware that he was being used a pawn in the games that the two were notorious for playing, but still being a Junior in his division, he didn't exactly have a choice in the matter. Mr. Richards told him to jump, he just jumped. Maximum height was implied. He handed his card to the receptionist, saying that he had an appointment with the guest in the penthouse. A quick call and a nod after, and he was in the elevator, adjusting his tie again. The car was air conditioned, but he still felt a gentle trickle of sweat slipping in between his muscular shoulder blades and trailing down his spine. He tried to look like he did this sort of stuff all the time, and he rapped the door with his knuckles.<br/><br/>He resisted the urge to frown when she make a quip about him being 'one of the pretty ones'. Not exactly professional of her, he mused, stepping inside. Speaking of professional, should he call her Mrs. Richards? Ms. Everett? Certainly not by her first name. He slipped in past her, trying not too look too closely at the woman that was about three-quarters of the way dressed. He apreciated beauty in all it's forms, but appreciating this particular morsel would likely cost him his job, if not by her hand, than by the hand of her ex.<br/><br/>Fucking office politics.<br/><br/>"Ah," He paused, his eyebrows knitting as he adjusted his grip on the briefcase that he was carrying, his free hand idly coming up to run over his jawline," Thomas is fine. Malcolm will do as well, Ma'am" His tone made it clear which he preferred," Your..." Husband? Ex-husband? Not relevant," Mr. Richards," He saved quickly," Asked me to give you a rundown of what we have planned for this year's summer campaign. I'm heading it, which is why I suppose he asked me to..."<br/><br/>He paused again, and shook his head," A... water for me, thanks," Way to compromise, buddy," Anyways, there have been some promising results last year when we employed a similar perspective, but it was a compromise. I think with us going fully into the early twenties to mid thirties demographic, we'll have a better chance of attracting the clientele that will be more likely to provide secondary sources of revenue," Bar purchases and the like. Aaaand she wasn't paying attention.