fandomhigh | Young Entrepreneurs; Monday, Period 6 [ 02/09 ].

Turtle had very seriously considered calling off the meeting. It was bad enough having to wake up next to the guy she'd married over the weekend without having to sit in a small group of people at him in a business-type setting.

However, there was a lesson in all of this, and a successful person would strive to use that lesson to her advantage to help better move along. So she was there at the head of the table as usual, trying her best to look like her face wasn't constantly red as she drew herself up professionally.

"One thing," she started, after clearing her throat to make sure her voice didn't waver, "that is very important in business relationships, especially in small groups, is that there is a clear and distinct line between the business and the personal. One cannot let some personal incident interfere with the fact that he or she has a job to do. Your business does not care if you got drunk at the company party and said stupid thing. It does not care if you thought you were someone else and married one of your business partners. It does not take excuses like that, and so it is very important for a young entrepreneur to always exude an air of pure, unflappable professionalism. If any of you," which she knew at least one other person did, "had a weekend as weird as mine, this is a lesson we could all stand to hear. So today, that's what we're going to do. We're going to network with each other on very professional levels, completely disregarding any personal aspects that may try to interfere."

And, failing that, there was always the usual assortment of things to eat to stuff into your mouth before you said something stupid.

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"You didn't twist the rule," Alice said simply, eyes still shut. "Unkind to declare the game over before taking your turn."

Edited 2009-02-11 16:09 (UTC)

"Unkind?" He hadn't thought of kindness being part of the game, but when Alice mentioned it it caught his curiosity. He watched her face. "My new rule is that unkindness should be met with resistance."

"Very well, I'm resisting," Alice said, a light grin playing on her lips. "I refuse to accept your checkmate. Or perhaps you've moved your bishop so that I'm only in check. In any case, I'm still not speaking. This is only clarification, and doesn't count."

"Still not speaking?" Leto chuckled. "But it's your turn. The resistance was merely a reaction? Or will you resist making your next move too?" He wondered if he would get a spoken answer to this.

"It does place me in a bit of a difficult situation," Alice mused. "Where I've backed myself into a corner from which it is difficult to escape. Very well. My next rule is to reverse our positions. You are now inches from checkmate, by your own hand; I have cunningly let you trap yourself. What is your move?"

In all honesty, she wasn't hoping to steal the win. She was quite confident that he could somehow extricate himself from her situation, in her place. He could claim victory, and she would have one new avenue of escape route when next she barred her exits.

It was a nice trick. "My move," he said. "Is to dissolve all rules. I proclaim total freedom to act according to will." He stared at Alice, waiting for her reaction.

She held his eyes for a long moment, deciding. There was something terribly fascinating about the way the air changed, around him. She felt as though she should do something dramatic, like challenge him to a duel, or kiss him full on the lips, or spin round in circles. Though the latter would be terribly impaired by the lack of a skirt to flare out.

"Are we ever free?" she asked him instead, one eyebrow raised. "To act only according to will? Society has rules, and suggestions, and law. We all make sacrifices in order to co-exist. Some more extreme than others."

"This is not my next move, incidentally," she added hurriedly. "Only a diversion."

"We are never free," Leto replied, keeping his gaze. "But this is a game, and the rule is set. That makes for interpretation. What is the will, when there are no obstacles? What form will it take, if any?"

That required a long moment of solemnity, while Alice considered her response.

"Here is the form I choose, then," she declared, bending one leg out in the air behind her in a strangely regal way. "I return the game to its beginning, full circle. I am once more pretending to be a flamingo, only this time, it is not as a rule, but because I enjoy it. You are welcome to join me, should you like, but are under no obligation to do so."

The preference for flamingoes intrigued him. "It is not the shape I would be likely to take," he said. "But I can keep you company." He held out a hand to her.

Flamingoes were excellent croquet mallets. Quite versatile, in their way.

She reached her hand out, gracefully, and flushed. "What would you be, if not a flamingo? One of the reeds in the surrounding pond?"

"I'm not used to water," he said. "I'm a desert creature. I can ride the giant worms across the sand." He wasn't sure if that could fit in with a flamingo, and he wasn't familiar with croquet.

"A desert, then?" Alice said, hesitating to mull that over. "Very well. Should I be a camel, a cactus, or the unbearable heat?"

"There are neither camels nor cacti on Arrakis," he said, smiling. "Only unbearable heat remains, unless you want to be a sandworm or a desert mouse."

"I've never been much of a dormouse, though I do know all the words to 'Twinkle, Twinkle Little Bat,'" Alice mused. "Are you to be a sandworm, or simply riding them to your destination?"

Edited 2009-02-12 22:41 (UTC)

"The Fremen ride the sandworms," he said, "For others, they are deadly. Only by moving with steps that have no regular pattern whatsoever can you avoid to attract their attention." He thought for a moment. "But today I will be a desert mouse, like my father."

"That sounds exciting," she decided. "Scattering your steps and hoping the worms won't find you. Catching hold of one to take a ride."

"It is," he said quietly. "Like being part of the desert."

Young Entrepreneurs; Monday, Period 6 [ 02/09 ].

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