Of All The People

When he originally took a job with Ashford Enterprises and Publishing, Bentley had intended it to be a stepping stone to his future as a buyer of businesses with the intention of improving them or making them work – effectively saving them from failure. Ironically, however, Derek Ashford, the owner and CEO of AEP had done all of that for Ben in his decision to technically adopt Bentley so that he could inherit the business after Derek decided it was his time to retire or move on. Because of all of that, Ben found himself in the lift on his way to make sure that he could keep his last name through the paperwork.

For what felt like ages, he waited to meet with a lawyer, annoyed more than he could say with the intern that couldn't seem to shut her mouth. Although she could be deemed attractive, this girl - one Mairen Tierney - was more like a broken record, going back and forth between apologizing for talking too much and thinking of something else to say. Finally, though, the office door opened and he no longer had to hide his disdain for her. Ben passed her a cold look, raised eyebrow and all, before passing through the open door to deal with signing things and the like.

When he left, it was immediately apparent that the girl was more embarrassed and afraid of him than he had expected. Good. If she was going to leave him alone, then he didn't regret his earlier glare and intimidation. His feet carried him out of the office, not bothering to offer her a last glance. Upon entering the lift, he was counting the minutes until he could get back to the office and talk to Derek about how well the meeting had gone. He and Nancy would be pleased, undoubtedly.

The doors to the lift closed, moving to the next floor, where it stopped. Bentley frowned at the idea that the elevator might have to stop at every floor to let people on, making his trip back to AEP much longer than he could put up with. He couldn't bring himself to look up at the person who walked on, but he registered that it was a woman with blonde hair. His hands stuffed in his pockets, he stared ahead at the doors as they closed again.

She was on her way to the higher-ups, the closest thing she had to a boss here in this country. Claire had been leading her double life rather normally for awhile now. She had thought being a spy for the American government would require more high speed chases, more bribery, more smooth talking, and much more spandex. So far, it had been lots of water-cooler talk and paperwork. She had almost gotten bored - she felt as though she had been transferred rather than promoted. Lee had assured her it was not going to be easy and he had been right - the staff meetings were beginning to eat away at her humanity.

Still, she could not complain. She had been safe, all this time. Sure, there had not been any major discoveries. Just a whole lot of coping with the new laws they were thinking up here, a lot of passing on information that people seemed to gift her with, and shit tons of banter with Mr Head Unspeakable Fred Weasley the Second. She had to admit, her cover-up task of tracking down important magical artifacts was actually entertaining enough to make her not want to blow her brains out... most days.

Today, she was in a rare good mood. She had just left the Department of Mysteries, and even though her correspondent had not been in, his secretary had, and the poor woman had given Claire some wonderful, if petty blackmail to use on Fred the next time she saw him. Nothing major, just something to wind him up, grind his gears a little. His secretary had also handed her a very important file, and she needed to report upstairs to ensure she really did have permission to chase after the men listed - the Department of Fluffies had staked a claim on them, but Claire thought her Squad might have better luck. It was an exiting idea, this new lead, something out of the order, something that would fling her into the field.

It had been a promising day.

She stopped off on her floor to quickly drop off some of her files, grabbing a memo that was waiting on her desk, before walking briskly down the hall and punching the button for the lift. It rattled and opened, letting her enter. There was only another man in the lift, so she gave him a quick glance before hitting the button for the Ministerial floor. A moment of silence and Claire decided to utilize the free time to open up the memo and quickly look it over.

"Lift problems?" she murmured, quoting the memo. Suddenly, the lift made a loud creaking noise and stopped completely. She looked up and stepped forward, tapping her wand against the control panel. A disembodied voice said, "Our apologies, but the lift is currently out of service. Repairs are being made, and apologies for your absence are being made. Repair time estimated at fourteen minutes, forty-seven seconds. Subject to change. Thank you for your patience."

"Oh, hell," Claire said.

Bentley was so done. He didn't have the time for lift problems, as the blonde next to him had called them. As if on cue, the elevator halted and a voice floated through the speakers. The woman grumbled something  - about what he would have said, were he really the talking type.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Ben nearly wanted to just attempt apparating, even though he doubted it would work from within the lift. Every nerve in his body was suggesting he take a smoke, but he neither had the required materials nor would have ever done such a thing in a lift. Contrary to popular belief, he really did have a little class. Sure, he was extremely standoffish when addressed by someone he would rather avoid, but he wasn't about to smoke in a confined space with someone he didn't know. The poor thing could be allergic to tobacco or something and then where would he be?

In court, probably. But it wouldn't be the first time that had happened, though. As evidenced by the surprised look on the lawyer's face in his meeting, his name was well-known enough that people wondered how he could ever work his way into a family. Especially one of the upper class.

He flicked his eyes over to look at her for the first time, the dark brown irises watching her warily. He knew, of course, that it wasn't her fault in any way. That didn't stop him from wanting to express his distaste for being stuck in this trap with her. What he wouldn't give to be stuck in the office right then. Even being asked to look over non-fiction scripts (which definitely weren't interesting, and weren't part of his job description) would have been more appealing than this. He was not good in social situations, nonetheless awkward ones.

He was tempted to just speak to make it obvious that he was displeased, and hopefully to get her to dislike him enough to keep quiet. He had a backwards sort of way of thinking, he knew. Where others would want to talk to fill the time between the malfunction and the rescue from the lift, Bentley would rather just let silence float between himself and whomever he was with. He could deal with silence. He was used to it and preferred it.

"So," He began, deciding to just run with his idea, "I'm guessing you were meant to deliver that information about faulty lifts? Why, then, did you decide that getting on one would be the best course of action?"

Claire let out a long sigh and rested her back against the back of the lift, tilting her head up to stare at the ceiling, as though begging the magic that controlled the lift network to suddenly take charge and carry her away. Her eyes rolled and lolled her neck, little cracks and pops emitting from it. She was always tense - it was part of her job description, really. Not Captain of the Magical Law and Enforcement Patrol, no, that took very little of her own effort. It was a babysitting gig, really, with occasional clean up duties heaped on top. No, it was the job she wasn't legally being paid for that took so much out of her.

She had almost forgotten that there was another man in the lift with her. She was reminded, however, when he spoke. Her eyes flicked open and immediately caught onto him, catching him with barbs. Sass Level Four engaged.

"Excuse me," she said, staring at him a moment. She pushed herself off the wall and turned ever so slightly, crossing her arms. "I'm not a delivery woman. It was a memo informing me to be wary of the lifts, sorry I'm not constantly at my leisure to peruse every memo that comes across my-" Chill, Claire, you're getting flustered. "And who are you anyway, to accuse me of being a porter, then? I haven't seen your face around - must be pretty replaceable, in that case." She stared at him, her lips pursed.

((Sorry it's short. =/ ))

(No worries. I'm not quite feeling up to part so mine aren't too great right now either)

A sardonic brow rose at her particularly cheeky reply, and Bentley nearly found himself laughing in response - something he rarely did at all. No, he definitely wasn't around the Ministry very much at all. Not his cup of tea. His entire being practically shouted 'Anti-Ministry' and he could never be said to object to that.

"I doubt you realize, sweetheart," He began, his words short and his infinitely dark eyes staring down at her, "but I'm hardly a Ministry employee. I manage no less than a hundred employees as second in command at AEP. I'm to inherit one of the largest companies in the Wizarding World and hardly need to spend my time here."

His arms crossed over his chest in a show of disapproval and in an attempt at intimidation. Even that morning it had worked quite well. Hopefully it would work on this blonde who thought she could get away with making snide comments. "Today, I just happened to run into you by way of a particularly unpleasant accident."

Bragging? Yeah, a little. Well, more like a lot. But Bentley hardly ever spoke about his job, and he was finding that it was rather amusing to use his miraculous aptitude for business to his advantage in this. It wasn't the most tactful thing to do, but then, the man was hardly known for his ability to ignore his impulses. On the contrary, he more often acted poorly because of them when it came to anything outside of work or money.

She could tell this man thought he was God's gift, or that he was some big shot, but it did not put Claire off at all. Equality or not, politics was still a man's world, and she had long gotten used to having to deal with men who thought they had every answer and that her purpose was to give them a pleasant view while they fixed the world. Claire had been navigating her way through testosterone-infested waters since she had graduated school, and she had always managed to do what she needed to do. No, Claire had never minded a man with an inflated ego - it made him so predictable. Boring, almost.

Sweetheart. Ah, he would pay for it, surely. Give it time, he would swallow his words with a nice grain of salt. She ticked her head, her blonde hair brushing over her shoulder. "I suppose I'm supposed to be impressed with you. I forgot how hard it is being a trust-fund baby. Those cocktail parties must be a right B****, huh?" Claire knew his type. Rich boys who though they ran the world just because they could afford to act superior.

He crossed his arms and she smiled lightly, moving her arms up and tightening her own arms, mirroring his look exactly, save for the ironic smile on her face. "It may continue to get unpleasant. Captain of the Magical Law and Enforcement Patrol. Think it's hard managing monkeys who file paperwork? Try managing dastardly criminals. I'm not going to pretend to be pleasant - you're a businessman, you don't even speak pleasant, I'm sure. Now, as a businessman, how smart of a career move is it burn bridges with the backbone of the Law branch of the Ministry? Eh, sweetheart?"

As expected, when his anger took over, his words didn't end up in the right place or come out quite how he had intended. As if his morning hadn't suddenly turned so very sour, here she was thinking he was some git who got his money from his father and hadn't worked a day in his life. Bentley tripped over the idea of pointing out how impossibly hard he had worked through school to get where he was. That he didn't leave work except to go home and continue to work or think about work. The woman just kept talking, however, continuing to find nerves to pinch on her way.

"Frankly, dear, I wouldn't know what that's like." He replied with his lower-than-usual, angry voice, leveling his gaze on her with narrowed eyes. "It isn't your business at all, but I daresay you should avoid saying such things to someone who grew up without any family. It tends to piss them off." Ben could feel his left eye twitch just slightly on the last sentence, probably only barely visible to the blonde glaring at him.

"Perhaps you should look up my name when you return to your office. I've been in with your lot plenty of times, and managed to get on just fine. So here's what you ought to do," Ben tilted his head down towards her as if he was going to offer her help. "Be quiet, stop making assumptions, and avoid angering people with more connections than you're prepared for. Mkay, pumpkin?" The question came out sickly sweet, a tone Bentley rarely (if ever) allowed his voice to project.

Watching her for a reaction, Bentley had a feeling he would get an amusing one. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed the back and forth that could come from arguing with someone with a decent wit and enough passion to make the exchange worthwhile. Leaving his arms in their locked position, he turned so his back rested against the side of the lift and his foot pulled up to push against the wall. Now that he was facing her fully, he allowed himself an instant to take in and accept the information that his brain offered him when it suggested that she was actually quite pretty. He wondered for a moment what she looked like when she wasn't angry; in this moment she was alive. Did the same thing happen for him? He rarely spoke to strangers, nonetheless bickered with him. But even when he argued with those he did know, he always won and hardly had to try. This was both new and interesting to the point where he was glad he'd said something.

He seemed to think it was almost threatening, his words. Or as though she should care that he was not a rich boy by birth - either way, he was one now, and that was not going to win him back any respect. Claire was completely self made, and relied on absolutely no one but herself for her success. If he thought he was making her feel anything for him, he was completely wrong. There was one major thing between that Claire and most people, something she was proud of. Yes, a professional reputation mattered to her, of course. But personally - she didn't give a flying shit of what people thought of her.

She ticked her head. "Oh, look at me. How terribly embarrassing." This man's opinion of her mattered about as much as what her intern intended on having for lunch. He continued on, saying what he said as though she would be terribly offended. Had he been a person of interest, or someone who mattered, she might have been a little angrier. But as he spoke, she was more irritated than actually offended. To think - he thought so much of himself to think that she actually cared.

"Alright, listen up, pumpkin," Claire responded back. "I'd look you up, but I only bother to look up people I think are of any relative importance or interest to me or to the world. So, don't be offended if your file remains in the cobwebs for longer. You think I need your connection - that's very sweet of you all all, but also very egotistical and even more ignorant that I have time to explain." She smiled a little smile. "So, if you don't mind, I'm going to continue reading through my paperwork about matters of importance, because I belong here, I'm necessary, and, well, the work I do matters." She smiled and opened up one of her folders, looking through the papers.

((Sorry, my muse for this thread is odd))

Bentley stared at the woman in front of him, amazed that he was even being argued with at all, nonetheless to this extent. Sure, in school it had been the same, more or less. With having to fight to get ahead. But this girl clearly had no idea what he had been through, and just as well, she didn't care to find out. Ben knew he should have felt quite comfortable with that idea; he rarely gave anything away - especially anything about his past. Sometimes even about his work. But he had already given a good part of that information away.

He had no desire to continue arguing with someone who so clearly had no interest in people outside of herself, so instead he scowled at her before turning to look at the grate that should have let them off at their individual floors. His fingers tugged at his sleeves, though he kept his arms crossed to show his distaste. It was a bit of a shame that the blonde wasn't interested in him. Bentley thought he might have enjoyed a moment of condescension for her by way of a rejection. That didn't seem very likely at this point, though.

Didn't she realize who he was? Or what company he worked for? Bentley spent his life training to get the job he now possessed. The job he loved. And he was damn good at it, and helped more people than this snippy blonde could understand. Unable to leave the conversation as it was, Bentley finally broke the silence with a loud huff of annoyance and turned to look at her again.

"Look, I don't know what you claim to do in your job, but I rescue hundreds of people from poverty or worse on a regular basis. I don't think you have any idea how much what I do means to people." Bentley pondered, for a moment, if he really was a Slytherin through-and-through when he said things like that. "You shouldn't pretend to know people who you can't possibly understand." The words should have been said with malice, perhaps. But instead they sounded to his ears like he was requesting a second chance or some kind of forgiveness. That, of course, just made him annoyed again. His own words were betraying him now. Rather than end on such a note, Ben rolled his eyes and stared at the lift entrance again.

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