“Mr Wright says he'll forward you the quarterly projections by the end of the week.” Bailey pulled a folder from her briefcase and slid its contents across the table. Katsuyuki could feel his eyes glaze over. “Until then, this is the preliminary draft for the marketing proposal. Mr Ivanov would like for you to discuss this with Finance and get back to him at your earliest convenience.”

Katsuyuki glanced at the documents. How Yuanfei could be jealous of this, he had no clue. “And he couldn't do it himself, because...?”

“I'm sure it's because he trusts your insight, Mr Ito.”

He wasn't sure if she was just being charitable, or she really didn't know better, but he wasn't so clueless; he'd seen this before from his father's associates. Because he thinks he's too important to do it himself.

“Oh, and Mr Furuyama has scheduled a visit to the office next fortnight.” Katsuyuki rolled his eyes. His position at the company was a harmless, superficial role created for him as a token gesture of nepotism; an 'Associate Strategy Director' in title, but realistically no more a glorified box-ticker. And yet, his father was still sending senior staff to keep tabs on him.

“Arrange something with one of the project managers, they can take care of him this time. I'm busy with training.”

“Of course, sir.”

A figure peeking into the corner of his vision caught his attention. Katsuyuki looked up; there he was, standing by the table, clutching the tray of drinks. His hair had fallen in front of his eyes, but his hands were too occupied to fix it. He looked... The word flashed in Katsuyuki's mind, but he was quick to push it down. He looked decent. The uniform strangely suited him. The gentle smile, the tousled hair, the bright, captivating gaze.

Cute.

Katsuyuki let out an involuntary sigh of frustration.

Idiot. No, that was not the right word. Not at all. Yuanfei was pleasant; perhaps even charming, one might say. But not cute. Men can't be cute.

Yuanfei tilted his head to the side a little and his face softened modestly. He bit his lip briefly, reservedly, before he spoke. His vibrant, almond eyes met Katsuyuki's in an intensely disarming gaze. Katsuyuki despaired silently.

"Sorry if I interrupted... Espresso, and cappuccino, and - uhm..." He reached for a little saucer on the tray and placed it on the table. "I thought you might like these." Two small glazed cookies sat on the plate. He smiled nervously at Katsuyuki. "I know you don't eat much sweet things, but we didn't have any whiskey back there."

"Tch. You didn't have to do that," Katsuyuki muttered. The faintest hint of a grin played on his lips. "But thanks."

Yuanfei bowed his head a little, offering up a parting smile as he left the table. Katsuyuki glanced back one last time as he retreated back behind the counter. Another small sigh slipped out.

“Shall I arrange something with Finance?”

“... Hm?”

“The marketing proposal. Would you like me to arrange a meeting to discuss it?”

Katsuyuki absent-mindedly chewed the cookie and shrugged half-heartedly. “I guess so.” Distracted and disheartened, he was already mentally checked-out.

Bailey took a quiet moment to sip her cappuccino.

“I should mention,” She started cautiously. “Mr Sokolov has asked about your transfer documents for Moscow Wolves. He'd like you to revisit some details.” Bailey reached for her briefcase, but paused. Katsuyuki's grip on his espresso cup had tightened and his eyes stayed fixed down at the table.

“He'd like me to revisit details...?'” Katsuyuki huffed a humorless laugh. “'That's what he said?”

“More or less, sir. Perhaps with a little less... diplomacy.”

“Figured.”

Something was afoot. Bailey had reviewed these documents thoroughly, she was sure. She tried to recall the contents once again, as she had already frantically tried during her call with Mr Sokolov, in search of what it was she could've missed – a typo? Forgotten changes to the revised form? Did Katsuyuki send the revision at all...? With the aggressive tone that Mr Sokolov had taken with her... Well, something was most certainly very wrong. “My deepest apologies if I missed something, sir.”

“It's not on you.” His gaze remained fixed in place. She eyed him for a moment. He knew. Whatever it was that was wrong, he was already well aware.

“I'll prioritize getting this resolved as quickly as possible.” Her reassurance did nothing to ease the tension. Katsuyuki's stony expression didn't waver, and neither did his hardened posture. He remained perfectly still, tensed, as though braced for danger. “...Perhaps we can discuss it another time.” She placed her briefcase back on the floor. Katsuyuki sipped his drink, gaze still fixed downward. His mood was soured – and she didn't have much to work with to salvage it.

Reaching for the remaining cookie, she cautiously, reluctantly nibbled at its edge. “So kind of your friend to give us these,” She tried to muster some semblance of enthusiasm. “Please send him my thanks when you next see him.” She forced a smile through her distaste. Her sugar detox was ruined.

The things she did for work.

“He's a good guy.” Katsuyuki's face softened as he spoke. “Too kind for his own good. No idea how he puts up with someone like me.” Just briefly, there was a little hint of a smile on his face. He looked up as she picked off another small piece of the cookie. “You don't have to eat that, you know.” Clearly, he wasn't fooled by her feigned enthusiasm.

Bailey put the remains back on the plate. “I'm grateful nonetheless.”

“I'll let him know.” Katsuyuki suddenly lit up. “Oh, I should leave a tip,” He said, fumbling for his wallet. “How much should I give?... Thirty dollars? Thirty-five? Is that enough? “

Bailey paused for a moment, raising her eyebrows.”You... You want to tip more than a hundred percent, sir?”

He wrinkled his nose incredulously. "I can't just leave fifteen percent. That's essentially nothing."

Bailey, ever pragmatic, was careful to gently intervene. "Thirty dollars would certainly be generous, Mr Ito, but some may feel it's a little too generous."

"He deserves the money, though. You know how little these jobs pay, don't you?" The compensation of service workers was nothing Katsuyuki had fretted about before; he simply entrusted Bailey to leave something reasonable on his behalf. Perhaps he was truly ignorant of the plights of the working class until now, but it seemed this teammate of his was igniting an unusual sympathetic streak in him. It was unlike him to make such a simple faux pas. He was completely off-guard, as though his years of carefully crafted professionalism were lost in the face of... Something else.

"I understand your frustration, sir. But I wonder if your friend would feel... overindulged, perhaps, by a tip like this."

He paused a moment and thought. In resignation, he released a small, frustrated sigh. "You're right, he would probably call me out for it," He slumped back in his seat. "He doesn't like me spending money on him. Says it's charity, or something." He slid a couple of bills back off the table.

"Fifteen is still a wonderful tip, sir," Bailey reassured. "I'm sure he'll be grateful for that. "

Katsuyuki tossed back the last drop of espresso and rose from his chair. He reached into his pockets for the usual items: stick of gum, cigarette, lighter; his standard post-debrief routine. His eyes flicked up to counter; no customers, and Yuanfei was still there. He pondered to himself for a moment, then slid the cigarette and lighter back into his pocket and approached his friend one last time. Bailey slowly collected up the documents strewn about the table, but kept her watchful eye on the pair as they spoke. Katsuyuki's parting words – out of earshot, she lamented – seemed to lay on a winning charm. The young man behind the counter offered up a playful smile, glancing away for a moment in a show of modesty as he ran a hand through his hair.

Katsuyuki waved a brief goodbye and turned to leave. His expression – a minimal smile and courteous nod - revealed little as ever, but a few other little clues slipped through: a stance that struggled to stay turned away; a hand lightly brushing the other in search of comfort; a parting, lingering gaze over the shoulder. A whirlwind of emotions - joy, discomfort, desire, frustration. The pain of a heavy heart.

Katsuyuki's friend didn't seem to catch any of it; simple people like him couldn't parse the complexities of nonverbal communication, Bailey reasoned. She, however, had caught it all.

She typically felt little empathy for the plights of these wealthy professionals. Of course, the world of business was a cruel game, but they chose to play it; they were aware of the risks, but they were too greedy to care. And these men could be ruthlessly savage, willing to do terrible things to one another to get on top. To fall from grace in this industry was typically well deserved; no one was safe. But watching Katsuyuki, she couldn't help but feel a small twinge in her heart. The young man had barely taken his first cautious steps into adulthood - and into this cutthroat environment- and already he was at risk of losing it all. Russian-born, with a staggeringly successful father from Japan – two markets known for their strict intolerance of perceived weakness. It was clear that his family had browbeaten him into the same sterile perfection of his predecessors. No flaws must ever be exposed. But in such a conservative, patriarchal sphere, an infatuation such as this would most certainly be a devastating revelation if it came to light.

If her intuitions were correct about him, then truly he had been dealt a cruel hand. Of all the people he could have chosen, he had developed a soft spot for that one: uncouth, unpromising...

Male.

It was scandalous. Unfair as it was, those were the rules; and if Katsuyuki wanted to succeed, he had no choice but to stick to them.

Following her employer to the exit, she glanced at the counter; Yuanfei was still watching him, transfixed. A hopeless dreamer. His eyes caught Bailey's, breaking him out of his daze. He quickly turned away and busied himself with cleaning. She continued her confident stride out the door.

Outside, he lit up his cigarette, stony facade once again in place as if nothing had changed. It felt a little like waking from some kind of strange dream; such a wild revelation, already lost behind his carefully curbed demeanor. But Bailey still sensed that lingering undercurrent of quiet tragedy.

If Mr Ito hoped to keep any shred of his dignity and prestigious lifestyle intact, his friend was entirely incompatible as a lover. She knew it, even if he didn't. Hell, he seemed in denial about his feelings at all.

He was in for a rough ride once he'd figured himself out.

And once he had, what could he even do? He was entirely alone, no one to ask for help, and limited in his options: either out himself, and be crushed by the toppled empire he had only just started to build for himself – or bury it all, smothering any threat of promise or hope until those emotions were snuffed out entirely.

One way or another, that boy would be the death of him.