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[personal profile] kiyakotari
As per the post in which I asked for prompts involving other people's characters, here's another very late response. I'm sure it's not what you had in mind, GJ, but...well, I had fun. ^_~

The assignment from [ profile] greenjudy: Ira. The Prospect of a Car (red). Echoes of Uncle Arved (take however you like). Girls. Eric Tseng's private study.

For the car, I chose an Aston Martin. (And yes, I did have to look up the key design, because I'm anal that way.) I apologize if that is not an appropriate option, GJ, but it worked well for the direction I decided to take.


“It’s a gift,” Eric says calmly, eyes just a little bit too dark behind the lenses of his glasses. “To celebrate the fact that you passed your driving exam.”

Ira looks down at the key in his hand, innocuous and black with a stylized set of spread silver wings on it. There is no key fob, but there is an electronic version of the key on the steel ring, one of those little plastic things with a panic button included on it - just in case. It serves well enough.

“An Aston Martin?”

“Your uncle wanted you to know that he’s proud of you,” Eric replies. The hesitation right before the end of the sentence is so brief that Ira could almost think he imagined it.

I’m being bought off, he thinks. He’s paying me off the same way he does small-time dictators and nosey diplomats. Ira isn’t even certain if he’s pleased or insulted that his uncle is treating him like a minor political player, which probably speaks volumes about how fucked up this whole thing really is. After a moment of looking at Eric’s face, the tightness around his eyes, he decides he’s not pleased at all. Not even a little bit. Uncle Arved is not here giving Ira a gift – he’s having his cleaner do it.

“Ira,” says Salley, leaning against the bookshelves with his arms crossed and a grin on his face, “it’s red, too. You have to take me out in it with you. Just think of the babes you'll attract in that monster.”

Sure. Because supermodels are going to be all over a seventeen-year-old in a £170,000 sports car.

The key clatters on the polished wood of Eric’s desk, and Ira turns and walks out of the office, not saying a word, ignoring Salley’s dismayed and startled protest. Behind him, Eric also says nothing – he’s an absence, silent and still as if he were carved from solid marble.

The next step, when the dictators and diplomats refuse to accept the bribes, is to have Eric use Ways and Means to address the problem more directly.

Ira wonders if Arved considers him a serious problem, or just a minor one.
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