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A dinner party, to celebrate the succeed of their newest project - accomplished by none other than Yi Sang, who had spent two whole weeks of overtime and living off of caffeine and almost-expired-vending-machine sandwiches.
The ‘Golden Bough’ as they call it, has been a great success, and so, as a treat, their manager had brought them out to eat. How simple is everyone’s pleasures.
As they resumed the party after cheering bottles of beers together, resorting to converse the person next or in front of them, Meursault was left alone.
To be fair, he would rather stay quiet under the influence of alcohol, he tends to speak his mind when he’s too relaxed.
He watched as the others interacted, talked, even singing with each other during their drunken shenanigans. He enjoyed his drink in silence, finding the brand Ishmael had brought pleasant & unlike the cheap ones he would usually buy.
His phone vibrated quietly in his pocket, unnoticed for a bit before he finally felt it and pulled it out.
His partner was the one calling. He answered, obligated to.
“Didn’t see you at the bus ride home,” you said, he could hear water sloshing around, figured that you were taking a bath. “Apologies.” Meursault spoke low and slurred, his voice slightly muffled by whatever endeavours was behind him.
“Company party. I’m obligated to come.” short, quick, easily understood despite the alcohol slowly blurring his mind.
“Ooh. I see.” You nodded, moving around in the bath. “Is it fun?”
“Yes. Food, and good beer, too.” he paused for a moment, observing the area. “But loud.”
“I get it. That’s how it is.”
“… Are you at home?”
“Yeah?”
“May I come over later? The pub seemed to be closer to your home.” His shoulders were lowered, trying to keep his and his voice to be heard only towards you. “Please.”
“Sure. I don’t mind.” You chuckled, finding it cute that he was acting like this when he ofts act so unbelievably stiff. “Bring me a beer too.”
“Mm. I’ll see what I can do. Thank you.”
“Yeah. No problem. I’ll see you later then! Bye~ Love you.”
He blinked, paused, before exhaling out. “I love you as well.”
Party goes quiet immediately. Everyone had ceased talking. The entire vibe changed. “Meur…” Rodya speaks, leaning in with smug curiosity in her eyes. “What was that~?”
“The rules state that private relations are not to be spoken during company time–“
“Oh, come on!” Gregor chipped in, now leaning from the other side. “It’s not company time, right now. You can tell us.”
“If it’s not company time, then I will take my leave.” he gets ready to stand up, before being stopped by the 3 eccentric co-workers: Heathcliff, Don Quixote, and Sinclair.
“C’mon, lad! Not everyday we get to hear about your love life.” Heathcliff pulled him down back to his seat, to which Donqui followed by with another can of beer, and Sinclair with a bowl of… something. He didn’t want to eat that.
“So, tell us about the ‘lucky’ lad?” Gregor and Rodya sat to listen near him, with the 3 eccentrics listening in closely. Outis, Ishmael and Faust were the only one now talking with the manager–although he could feel Ishmael’s eyes on him.
He tried not to sigh, or groan, or do anything that would make it seem he was slightly frustrated (he is.) by all of this, so the best option was to down the entire bottle of beer in one go. He could hear Heathcliff shouting out “There we go!”.
“…They are my partner.” he started, placing the now empty bottle infront. “Come on! We know that! How’d’ya meet? Was it romantic? Or tragic?” Rodya butted in, elbowed him gently.
“We rode the same bus together. They get off 3 stops before me.” He continued, not facing any of them now, focusing on whatever the snack Sinclair had procured.“It is nothing special. I see no reason to waste the party that was given to Yi Sang for the meddles I do outside of work.”
“He doesn’t mind!” Heathcliff cut in, gesturing to the half conscious Yi Sang asleep on the table. “Meur, continue! Where do they work!” Rodya butted in now, pulling Heathcliff back.
“HR management.” He bluntly said. “They are from the HR management that you all seemed to ‘dislike.’”
The table went quiet, followed by Ishmael’s sighs. “Oh!” Hong Lu chipped in with his usual chipper-ness. “I remember now. During our last evaluation, Meursault and the HR person entered the evaluation room alone—then came out all sweaty!”
“…”
“….”
“……”
“So…?” Rodya leaned in more closer now.
“It was an evaluation. I had been evaluated. That is all I will be saying.” He stood up, his steps slightly stumbling as he held onto someone’s shoulders for stability. Now properly drunk, he seemed to be pouting.
“I will be taking my leave. Goodbye.” He turned around, grabbed his suit jacket and left the pub.