And I'm pretty sure my boss supersedes even you right now, dear Prime Minister. But nice try.
[ he smoothly brushes lu bixing's pointing hand away with a flick of his hand, raising a brow, even if lu bixing can't see. this is part of whatever lu bixing has up his sleeve, and lin jingheng has to stay on his toes. he's anxious, and gu yun's stupid words echo in the back of his mind.
(it's unfair, how he can call him out on sweating at the sound of his bell so immediately.) ]
But you know what I'm about. [ this counts as customer service. ] Service with a smile.
[ the words could be considered "said with a grin." it's all done with stubborn practice. he had to close his eyes to take himself seriously. ]
[ if he could hold onto that hand for a second, maybe bixing could judge it a little better. like the rest of the staff, cancer is always wearing gloves - but he heard that someone, someone saw vulpecula without her veil, the other day, and lu bixing is not one to be easily set back.
besides. "service with a smile", he says. he can work with that. and really, he's the one who's smiling about it, warm and rueful, as he takes his batted away hand and puts it to his own cheek and sighs. it is just a little bit dramatic. Dramatique. ]
I bet you have a nice smile... I'll just have to use my imagination.
[ bad. he smiles anyway, though, tucking his hands into his pockets. ]
Dear Cancer, then, let's go grab a drink? Maybe outside, if you wouldn't mind - it gets stuffy in here - or back up in my room?
[ yeah, he remembers hearing the rumors of that and he has just superglued this veil even moreso to his skull (not really, but he did ask burakh if he could just. surgically attach it to his scalp to which he said "what do i look like, a malpractice suit?") ]
We can go to your room.
[ a dangerous move, but he thinks he's fairly well equipped to maneuver out of most situations with bixing. besides, i'm giving sisi the self-indulgent dream of describing bixing's extra-ass room, i hope. he hums. ]
Pick your poison, I can provide.
[ he's feeling generous? maybe? it's because it's bixing, but no one has to know that. everyone at this point knows that cancer is a lush, and while he sips from an opaque wine glass most days, jingheng just holds it in his mouth most of the time and delude himself enough into thinking it's a neat glass of whiskey or bourbon instead.
he considers it to be a mental exercise, a very difficult one. he is still failing it. it's terrible. he hates this wine, it tastes like ass. ]
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[ he smoothly brushes lu bixing's pointing hand away with a flick of his hand, raising a brow, even if lu bixing can't see. this is part of whatever lu bixing has up his sleeve, and lin jingheng has to stay on his toes. he's anxious, and gu yun's stupid words echo in the back of his mind.
(it's unfair, how he can call him out on sweating at the sound of his bell so immediately.) ]
But you know what I'm about. [ this counts as customer service. ] Service with a smile.
[ the words could be considered "said with a grin." it's all done with stubborn practice. he had to close his eyes to take himself seriously. ]
no subject
besides. "service with a smile", he says. he can work with that. and really, he's the one who's smiling about it, warm and rueful, as he takes his batted away hand and puts it to his own cheek and sighs. it is just a little bit dramatic. Dramatique. ]
I bet you have a nice smile... I'll just have to use my imagination.
[ bad. he smiles anyway, though, tucking his hands into his pockets. ]
Dear Cancer, then, let's go grab a drink? Maybe outside, if you wouldn't mind - it gets stuffy in here - or back up in my room?
no subject
We can go to your room.
[ a dangerous move, but he thinks he's fairly well equipped to maneuver out of most situations with bixing. besides, i'm giving sisi the self-indulgent dream of describing bixing's extra-ass room, i hope. he hums. ]
Pick your poison, I can provide.
[ he's feeling generous? maybe? it's because it's bixing, but no one has to know that. everyone at this point knows that cancer is a lush, and while he sips from an opaque wine glass most days, jingheng just holds it in his mouth most of the time and delude himself enough into thinking it's a neat glass of whiskey or bourbon instead.
he considers it to be a mental exercise, a very difficult one. he is still failing it. it's terrible. he hates this wine, it tastes like ass. ]