Morning all and welcome to Friday. The week ha ended. It seems very abrupt but I can’t say I object to a four day week. Shall we see what the last prompt of the week brings? Timers set for fifteen minutes and lets see what sort of stories we get.
I like the idea of a group believing they are conferring benefits and then realizing they actually are the ones receiving them. That idea mixed with the people who aren’t what they seem and the changing association could be fun to mix up and play with in a story. Shuffling and layering the issues. It is something I’d need an outline for before I really started into it.
Friday, September 6th: He tried to study the newcomers surreptitiously.
He tried to study the newcomers surreptitiously. There was something off about them. They said the right things and wore the same clothes as everyone else, but there was something off about them./ He just couldn’t place his finger on it. No on e else seemed to notice. After introductions were made, they blended right in.
Their accents, although from a different region had the same upper Exelon cadence to it that marked them as belonging and the labels on their clothing were the ones in favor. The clothing and jewelry was expensive, but tasteful rather than ostentatious. They looked comfortable with their wealth and didn’t seem to feel the need to flash it.
All in all they looked like the rest of the crowd.
‘Maybe it is because I don’t belong,’ he thought. He was not born to the wealthy elite of the city but rather earned his own way building his company up from scratch and making a pile of cash as he did so. He knew he was viewed a important and useful to know. However he also knew that he was accepted at events like this because he didn’t make a show of his wealth. He tended to remain quiet and circulate. He didn’t make waves and often times he barely said much of anything. He let the others talk and they did love to talk, mostly about themselves.
He was aware he didn’t really belong, no matter what his acknowledged societal level. He made a point of never pushing them beyond what they were willing to offer. He generally found that it paid off in information. They took it for granted that he was just thee to rub shoulders with the elite and they generally behaved as though they were granting him a privilege by allowing him in.
While he didn’t particularly care for their company, letting them talk let them brag and often they revealed far more than they expected. It was useful and that use was why he bothered attending. Or had. The use of this group was dimming and he found less and less reason to attend. He had in fact been turning down more invitations than he accepted. He accepted tonight mostly because of the new arrivals.
He circulated the room and let the thoughts simmer in the back of his mind. Something was slightly off about the newcomers but he knew that thinking about it would be like trying to grab a fist full of rain. If he let it sit and tried to focus on other things, it might yet come to him.
“There you are Paul,” the well coifed woman in front of him said. Marcia Donavan. Paul smiled even though her voice always grated on his nerves. Her face was set into a mock frown and her tone scolding. “We missed you at the regatta.”
“I’m afraid something came up,” he told her. “My apologies.”
“And something also came up at the Spring Gala I suppose, and during all those little gatherings since?” she asked. There was a glint in her eyes. Paul smiled. He knew that while they liked to think he benefited by associated with them, they gained benefits from associating with him. Benefits they were starting to miss.
“What can I say, it has been a busy year.”
Ten til Midnight 