[ A little quick on the draw, says Stéphane which is, for all intents and purposes, an insult so this coffee meeting is progressing quite predictably. Jean Louis gives him an irritated look, knowing full well that with Claude coming in swinging, the man's hardly going to just lie down and take it - sometimes, though, it's just blatantly, pitifully obvious how little the man truly cares about controlling his surroundings or his conversations. Stéphane thinks he cares, oh yes. But in reality, he's fortunate to have been so fucking well-connected since birth; much of the dirty, boring roadwork had been done before he'd even made it out into the world.
At Claude's reply, Stéphane just nods like they're having a pleasant little conversation about the weather and sips his coffee, shooting Jean Louis another glance over the rim of his cup. I'm paying attention, it means, though as to what the man's actually noticing is, as always, hard to say. He's never met a man with such little transparency. ]
Claude knows what he wants from the world.
[ Jean Louis leans back a little in his seat, his gaze slipping sideways towards Claude briefly before going back to Stéphane, darkening as it moves. ]
We're a very homogenous table in that regard, aren't we? Takes one to know one.
[ Though often going about it with a clumsiness born from his own privilege, no one can accuse Stéphane Potos of being goalless or inefficient about his own ambitions. He's the youngest Head of State the country's ever had. In these matters, elegance is a bonus, not a necessity. In effect, if you know who to step on and how to reach out a hand at the opportune moment, you have what you need if maybe not what anybody else needs. Stéphane lives alone for a reason. He's extremely, unfailingly selfish. It's one of those things you either learn to appreciate for its usefulness or you grow to resent him instead. ]
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At Claude's reply, Stéphane just nods like they're having a pleasant little conversation about the weather and sips his coffee, shooting Jean Louis another glance over the rim of his cup. I'm paying attention, it means, though as to what the man's actually noticing is, as always, hard to say. He's never met a man with such little transparency. ]
Claude knows what he wants from the world.
[ Jean Louis leans back a little in his seat, his gaze slipping sideways towards Claude briefly before going back to Stéphane, darkening as it moves. ]
We're a very homogenous table in that regard, aren't we? Takes one to know one.
[ Though often going about it with a clumsiness born from his own privilege, no one can accuse Stéphane Potos of being goalless or inefficient about his own ambitions. He's the youngest Head of State the country's ever had. In these matters, elegance is a bonus, not a necessity. In effect, if you know who to step on and how to reach out a hand at the opportune moment, you have what you need if maybe not what anybody else needs. Stéphane lives alone for a reason. He's extremely, unfailingly selfish. It's one of those things you either learn to appreciate for its usefulness or you grow to resent him instead. ]