Taylor is Proposing?

Sweet steam wafts from a grand old tea pot, as silver as it’s kettle, sat on its tray. An arrangement of biscuits set aside to please, the sweet nonconformist and new recruit that it all waited for. Taylor could feel pride in managing such a feat but it was only the hectic nature of the previous season that informed such revelry.

He couldn’t be angry with himself, he was waiting for his most important asset, the one he’d so brilliantly hired.

Miss Makayla Silvestro, the bright creature that now managed his public faculties and shared auspicious new truths of the world like they were simple candy.

If he were anyone else such things would be annoying, Taylor often thought himself up to snuff with such descriptions, but she was as genuine an article as he was enamored with her.

Bernard may’ve known him better than he liked, after all.

He was ecstatic when he heard her knocking, but he was as likely to admit to that as he was to the meeting at all. Though no one need know that either.

“Welcome to my home,” he says brightly, as there is nothing else that so easily enraptures as his current guest.

“I’d thank you for the invitation, but as you are my boss this seems much too preordained.” she said with glib delivery.

“Fairs, fair, I’d suppose,” he turned his head hopefully to the proper room, “Should we take our way a bit to the- left?” They’d’ve called it a drawing room in simpler times, but Taylor could scarcely remember for company.

“Yes, since your house is large enough to stutter.”

“We’re in luck, such a short way.” he said, hopefully opening the appropriate door. He knew he’d had it when he saw the set and tray.

“Really? I was hoping to get my steps in.” she said, crossing below his arm. Taking a beeline for the far chair, a thickly cushioned monstrosity. 

It was no surprise her preference, but Taylor was still steadfast in his duties as a host. “I’m certain you are pleasing to anything with eyes.” he said coolly, flipping the cups bowl up.

he could almost see the smile in her voice, “What a kind way to say nothing sir.” She cuddled in while he served, the silver cups were a replacement set, and while he knew she’d notice, it would certainly be more appreciated than not.

“And I’m sure it’s nothing you haven’t heard before, Dr. Silvestro”

“Nice save sir.” she finally gives over, in time to take her cup.

“I’m certain it is, though I’ve only just had the luck.”

“Don’t I know it mister.”

“Not Doctor?”

“Well, you're more the money than the sense lately aren’t you?”

Taylor kept the same tack in his response, “Of course, but it’s only the practical thing, you need a fool to trust the market after all.” 

“Of course, why, what sense can be had with money anyway?” She ganks a biscuit before continuing, “Though I’m certain of such clever things from you, upon request.”

“Expecting clever things from your fool boss, ain’t that a picture.”

“It is though, we all need fools to get where’s getting, don’t we?”

“I’d say it better, but I’m still best the fool,” he smiles as she eats, “Though not so much ignorant, it was a lovely gesture, your work.”

“It was nothing really, I had over printed, and I thought, Why shred it?”

“Am I to believe it was only a luxury of inefficiency?” 

“Don’t be so hurt, Taylor,” she says in her element, “Developmental inefficiencies are the thing that keep us together. They are the scars before scars, and the only way to bind us to our collective history.” She sets her cup down on the tray.

“Nice save, Miss.”

“Not Doctor?”, she asks perturbed. 

He pours for her and says, “Well, that isn’t what you’ve come to rectify. Is it?” 

“Oh, why do you say that?”

He watches at her as she adds a cube to her cup, “It’s quite simple really, anyone would think it if they were aware of your New Year’s Resolution. How does Missus Makayla Wallace sound?”

“Even if that were the goal, I’d keep my name. No fairy bargains.”

“And here I was hoping you push for the opposite. Mister Silvestro sounds nice as well.” he meant it, he would be nothing but proud if that were the case. Even if his taxes became all the more inconvenient as a result.

“I wouldn’t bargain on it. besides, it’s not the most suspicious of goals for a woman my age.” Miss Silvestro admonished him, “You’re still the type who forgets his Resolution every year. If I remember correctly.”

He looked at her, it was an alien thing to him. They’d only ever been acquaintances before his invitation and the thought that he was so easily read was disquieting.

“You think so?” he says at first, feeling a bit scolded as he sipped his tea. Continuing, “Well, there's hardly any harm in that.”

“There is when better ethics get involved, Mr.Wallace.” 

“I wonder, amongst the needy scientists and fool’s markets, who would believe you?”

“Yes. Fools aren’t rare, but recreating a grandma’s strudel is hardly a goal for a scientist or researcher.”

“Neither is darning, but we can’t all live for our work,” he thought back to Bernard’s Resolution, then quite easily to the concept itself and the government that demands it. “They certainly won’t let that be.”

“I’d believe that, but not from you Mr.Wallace.”

“You disbelieve in my infatuation?” 

“Only as such.” she said all too aware of his ambitions. She wouldn’t say the words, but it was better for them both if she didn’t.

She recognized that it was. Which meant he had an in.

A way to convince her.

Whatever better ethics she possessed he could certainly.

She stayed willing in her chair, soft and dissatisfied, but willing to hear. Good strange questions held in her head, sickened on sweets bothered evermore.

What do you want from me? 

Why ask for that from me?

What have you gotten already?

What hell are you offering, you foul foolish salesman?

“Look, I’ve been alive for long enough to know that this is a bit much to pass up,” he traverses the table between them, and bends an over tall knee, “Your voice carrying my name.”

He catches her hand, “You’re a lovely woman Doctor Silvestro, but there’s only so much a clever fool can offer.” It was a bit far past his boundaries, if not hers. 

But she doesn’t pull away, so he continues, “I know well that the clever aren’t often willing, but you are still a scientist. Can’t you share that little nothing, be a little blind for us both?”

“Blind? Like you aren’t that already?”, she says sharp and close.

“Of course, don’t mistake it. I am as consumed as you are in truth. Though not so honestly as you.”

“Consumed?” she repeats, like the words burned. He was right to be so forward, if such a word hurt her, the enchantment of her life.

“Ethics bind, but law more securely. What fine materials, an eye for an eye?”, he looks into hers, equal weight those great promise-lies, their false resolutions.

“I see for you that sweet vision, you see it through this small price.”

“What price?”

“Well, a ‘Yes’ will answer both.”