Fresh Meat


Edgar_icon.gif Samuel_icon.gif

Summary: Business as (un)usual. Samuel gets steps closer to being a real fake American.

Date It Happened: December 6th, 2001

Fresh Meat

Wolfram and Hart

Sleek and stylish, Wolfram and Hart is state of the art in everything. The security is always watchful to keep the riff raff and anyone without a proper appointment from entering. The large, open lobby is filled with windows and cheery sunlight is in sharp contrast to the business that is down on the upper floors. Once past security and various other checkpoints, the decor remains bright and welcoming, but the atmosphere lends to something more cutthroat. It's not uncommon to see many different species walking the expensive carpets and hardwood floors as both employees and as clients. The conference rooms are huge and filled with plush office chairs and long tables. The offices of the higher ups are even more luxurious. Long hallways are filled with doors that lead off to the varying departments with names like Corporal Acquisition and Prophesies and Harbinger Division. To the evil and the rich, these lawyers can get anyone out of just about anything. Of course, they always come a price.

There is only one purpose for Samuel to come back to Wolfram and Hart on a semi-regular basis, and that is to deal with his immigrant business and consequent forms, cards, and so forth. It's hard to get work as a fake human when you have only half of the information! At least Samuel is more earnest than his peers in that case.

The demon, always a man in public, winds his way up to Edgar Montero's office; he dressed in a neatly pressed, charcoal gray suit. There is no tie around his collar, and the top buttons of a light blue shirt remain undone. Even his hair has been combed back, and it has the sheen of something keeping it in place around his skull and behind his ears. Hazel eyes regard the door of the office for a few seconds, one hand lifting to rap knuckles upon the door. He has an appointment, of course, but you know- knocking is a common courtesy.

The response to the knocking is almost immediate, since Edgar has made sure to keep his table relatively clear in anticipation of aforementioned appointment. He rolls his chair back a little from his desk and reaches down to open the lowest righthand drawer, leafing through the files contained within until he plucks out the one that has Samuel's name printed on its upper tab. The folder is dropped onto the center of the incredibly organized and clutter-free desk and opened, at which point Edgar stares at the door.

"Come in."

Samuel first edges his shoulder in as the door opens, slipping inside with an eerily silent step in those squeaky-clean shoes. The door clicks shut behind a palm, and Samuel moves forward towards the chair opposite Edgar in order to sink into it. "Good afternoon, mister Montero. I understand there has been progress in my affairs." It has not taken the darker-skinned man long to get comfortable, and already he is onto his citizenship business. First things first.

The lawyer smiles. "Call me Edgar." He starts sorting through the papers in front of him with one hand, reaching forward with the other to offer it palm for a shake. "We have your American passport ready, and we're prepared to get you a birth certificate and citizen ship within the week. I'm sure you'll appreciate that we rushed this through."

Samuel lifts his hand out to meet Edgar's with a tug of a smile at his lips. "I do appreciate this. It is hard to find a niche here without this involved." He would rather bypass incidents like this, but it is all an unfortunate need. "Home was never so complicated. I have been in this country for less than a year, and I wonder if it will take a lifetime to get through this.. fluff."

"Don't count on it. This entire country is made of fluff." Edgar keeps his hold on Samuel's hand for just a second or two longer than necessary before he drops it and then pulls back in order to retrieve the passport from the file. It's held out a moment later, offered along with a wide smile. "But it's the good kind of fluff. We tend to be a very interesting nation."

"Cotton candy fluff, or teddy bear fluff?" Samuel raises an idle eyebrow as the passport is handed off to him and examined once over, but very carefully so. Once he is finished looking, Sam lifts his eyes back to Edgar in order to give him a similar examination. "Some seem to take it in stride so well, yet some cannot so much as file one of your numerous tax forms. I take it that you have very little trouble legally." A breath of air puffs out of Samuel's lungs in a small laugh.

Edgar chuckles. "I don't think I'm really qualified to determine the precise type of fluff that the United States legal system is made out of." He leans back in his chair and knits his fingers together, resting the heels of his palms atop his lower ribs. "But you're right. I don't have many legal issues, and I have a private accountant to take care of those pesky tax forms for me. It's one of the job perks."

"I enjoy perks." Samuel comments offhand, and largely to himself. "Are there any other lines I need to be signing, before these other papers begin to go through? I have grown a habit of carrying my own pen in Los Angeles. I never did, for years. Until now, obviously."

"Nope, I think that should be sufficient as far as your part in this goes. If we need your signature again we can duplicate it without a problem." Edgar smiles, crossing his legs neatly and turning a few degrees in his chair, letting himself indulge for a moment in its spinny glory. "Do you need help with anything else, as far as settling in goes? People? Places? Friends?"

Samuel keeps his eyes on Edgar now, watching the man enjoy his chair for a few seconds. "Places, for the most part. I am able to find my own friends, mister Montero." The lawyer gets a flash of a grin, half-tilted with a nodding motion of Sam's head. "Primarily I need to know of a place where I can put up orders of raw food and not be given second glances."

Part of Edgar's job description includes problem-solving. "Start eating sushi," he advises, "or invest in a personal cook. Get a girlfriend. Find a demon-friendly eatery - I'm sure we have lists of hot spots in our files somewhere."

"I mean in the sense of entire sides of beef, lamb, chicken, you know…" The man's smooth voice seems to drawl hungrily. You can take the creature out of the wild, but you cannot take the wild out of a creature. "I can… be a very big eater. Though if you do know of friendly eateries, feel free to pass them onto me." Samuel leans forward in his seat, elbows finding a perch on the edge of the desk. "But sometimes a man just needs to bite into something raw."

All movement at the desk just… stops. Edgar stares at the leather-and-glass desk mat in front of him, his fingers tapping against his chest while his lips thin. It's a moment before the lawyer recovers enough to lean forward in his own chair, making eye contact with the demon in front of him. "Depends on what you're after. If it's your main diet, I will repeat myself in suggesting that you hire yourself a personal cook."

Unfortunately for Edgar's brain hiccup, Samuel was being entirely serious, and any subtext in that was mostly imaginary. The demon smiles with the corner of his mouth in response. "It is not. I am just resistant to diet change. What has worked for me in the past will work for me in the future, and I have little reason to change that. What if a personal cook is not an option?" Not to say that it isn't- Sam is only testing his possibilities. "What if I am that private?"

"If a personal cook isn't your preference, then the only real opportunity you have to sate your appetite is to buy the meat yourself or, as I said, find an appropriately-themed restaurant. If you like, I can have my secretary compile a list for you." Edgar smiles and shrugs his shoulders. "And if you would rather not go alone, I'm sure an escort can be located." There are always plenty of possibilities.

Samuel lifts his hand so that his chin may sit on curled fingers. "A list would be a blessing. It is not as if I have not tried all this time to find someone I can trust- just that those I tried to trust were not worth the time or money." Does anyone need to know what happened there? Probably not. Best to save it for a rainy day. "I can take care of my own, but if I would need to take an escort- then perhaps it is best to avoid an establishment such as that altogether." No reason to put himself in danger, right? There are all manner of weirdos out there, looking to make trouble for Poor Widdle Demons.

Another smile from Edgar. "Glad I can be of help." Like any well-mannered man he doesn't choose to prod about the implied unpleasantness that Samuel may have experienced, and instead returns to the business of rifling through his files. "It is often beneficial to have someone on your side when you're visiting a new and potentially dangerous city. Do feel free to come to me or any of my colleagues if you find yourself in need of aid; I'm sure you have my card."

Samuel leans back in the chair, fingers flipping open the passport that had been lying on his lap. One last lookover. "I do, yes. Though you are good enough company, so maybe you'll be getting all of my attention." The passport gets slipped easily into the inside of Samuel's suit jacket, and he shifts forward to rise from his seat. "What is the timeline on that list, would you guess?"

Edgar just laughs this time, giving his head a bit of a shake as he closes the folder and then slips it back into the appropriate drawer of his desk. "I'm happy you consider me good company, and as for the list I'll send the request on immediately. If you'd care to wait outside, I imagine it'll be available for you within the next ten minutes or so." As he slides the drawer shut again Edgar gets to his feet, offering Samuel his hand again. "A pleasure."

Samuel takes the hand offered for the second time, giving a small sigh as he shakes. It sounds like relief. "I will do that. It was good to see you again. Thank you for your work." Reaching the end, Samuel dips his head just slightly before turning back for the door.

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