Sunday 1.13 A change in tactics

[lilymoon1.livejournal.com]

Crawford sat in his leather office chair, reclined slightly and appearing relaxed. Only a very close associate would have noticed the whiteness of his fingertips from the pressure where they were steepled in front of his chest. Too dignified and self-controlled to resort to nervous behaviors like pacing, Crawford had to resort to occasionally polishing the already spotless and gleaming lenses of his glasses or tapping his fingertips together while he remained deep in thought.


The dynamic among his team were evidently changing with or without his consent. Evidently the defeat of the elders and the fall of the tower had given his subordinates a huge boost in pride and confidence. Even Farfarello's deeply ingrained psychoses had seemed to subside to something less manic, although no less deadly and unpredictable. If this new control could be managed and the berserker willing to follow orders, Farfarello could become even more a force to be reckoned with.

Crawford's thoughts turned to Nagi. The youngest member of Schwarz was currently dutifully carrying out his latest assignment. Aside from his psychokinetic talent, Nagi was a brilliant boy and his skills with computer programming and hacking were an extremely valuable resource to the team. Perhaps Crawford should make more of an effort to acknowledge the strengths of each team member. Perhaps...praise. A word unheard of within the walls of Rosenkruz and a reinforcement unused. The only reward a Rosenkruz alumni received for a job well done had been a lack of punishment.

Lastly, the final member of Schwarz, the most flamboyant, the most insolent, the most aggravating man to spend six years in Crawford's presence and still be living. Schuldig. What to do about Schuldig?

Crawford removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. Be honest at least in your own head, he told himself. The question was what to do *with* Schuldig. In the privacy of his office and safely behind his nearly impenetrable shields, Crawford could admit to a certain attraction. Beyond the amazing head of hair that begged to be touched and that nearly femininely beautiful face there existed a brilliant flame that had never been extinguished during even the worst that Schwarz had faced. It was that peculiar bit of laissez-faire attitude that had infuriated and intrigued Crawford for years. What would he have to do to cement that loyalty to himself?

It would seem that Crawford's ingrained responses and tactics had to change, too. He smirked at what awaited the telepath and the berserker when they arrived home. Schuldig had insolently demanded a reward for carrying out his orders, a dinner to be precise. It would be interesting to see how his team reacted to the catered six course feast that he had ordered in, complete with intimate lighting, servers and a few wines so old they were nearly impossible to obtain.

A quick flash, just the barest glimpse of the future brushed over Crawford's senses, causing him to indulge in a slight chuckle. His team would most likely think he had finally succumbed to madness or was trying to poison them. Crawford's smirk deepened. He was willing to bend a little but he was no fool. The expense of the gourmet meal had been divided by four and the appropriate amount deducted from each person's personal account, access to the accounts something Crawford had always had. They would find out eventually.

Crawford retreated to his bedroom, walking once again with a confident slink to his stride. He felt the need to dress appropriately for this very important business dinner.