Ayaan sighs inwardly over the phone. "I suppose a quick meeting can't hurt." Although I'm still annoyed that I already wasted the time I could have used to get some work done. He tries not to flinch when he heard two feminine squeals from his sister's end of the call. Her friends...he sure does dread meeting them in person. They're not bad people, per se. Just very...loud. And overly excited at times.

"Sorry about that," Tanvi apologizes sheepishly, and then he hears her tell the women to stop screaming. Ayaan shakes his head but says nothing. "Mason should be there by now. I know I've said this before, but please be nice. Don't scare him, okay? He's such a sweet kid."

Whether he's good at his job or not is all that matters to me. He doesn't say it out loud, instead settling with a noncommittal hum in reply.

As if on cue, there's a knock on his door.

"I think he's here."

"Be nice!"

Ayaan just ends the call.

"Come in," he says in his usual business-like tone, keeping his phone away and sitting up a little straighter.

And in walks a willowy figure.

The first thing Ayaan notices about Mason Dayley is that his smile is hard to describe. It's wide and open but somehow awkward at the same time as he looks at Ayaan.

He bows. Bows.

If Ayaan wasn't so distracted, his jaw would have touched the ground in surprise. There aren't a lot of things that surprise him.

Apparently, it's just a second after that the messy-haired boy realizes what he's doing and straightens back up, smile faltering.

"Jesus," he mumbles under his breath, and then the smile is back on his face. "Uh...evening?" he says it like a question and suddenly Ayaan feels the remaining annoyance over his wasted time chip away at the boy's silvery voice. "We were supposed to meet around an hour ago but, um..." He chuckles breathily, eyes moving around his office unsurely. "I believe my lack of professionalism got in the way."

Ayaan continues to look at him, the only thought in his head about how...boyish the guy in front of him is.

And why is he holding an Impresso cup?

He clears his throat to snap out of it and stands up to greet him, holding out a hand. Mason takes the styrofoam cup in his other hand to quickly shake Ayaan's outstretched hand, praying his palm isn't clammy.

"Ayaan Sharma."

"Mason Dayley," he introduces back, voice a little clearer. He lets Ayaan's coarse, warm hand clasp around his own in a firm handshake. As soon as they both pull their hands back, Mason holds out his other hand with the cup in it. "Kind of like uh, a peace offering? And an apology. For...y'know..." His voice gets smaller and he holds back the urge to scratch the back of his neck. "Wasting your time back there." He ends his sentence like a question and smiles his awkward-but-not-really-awkward smile again, wondering if Ayaan is going to dump the drink on his head and throw him out of his office.

When Ayaan says nothing and only continues to stare blankly at him, his heart rate increases in anxiety. Shit, he's probably really mad.

"That's iced tea, by the way." Stop talking, Mason. Goddammit. If you don't, you're probably going to start parroting the ingredients used in the darn tea. Just stop.

To both of their surprise, Ayaan's lips twitch up in the slightest and he reaches out to finally, finally take the familiar-looking cup from his hand. Mason isn't too sure about the smile, though.

"Thank you," Ayaan replies, gesturing to the empty seats on the other end of his table. He doesn't question why Mason knows his preferred drink. "Shall we?"

"We shall," Mason replies jokingly, immediately yelling at himself inwardly after the words are out. I must have a death wish. The older guy clearly doesn't appreciate it because he only settles the cup on his table and sits back in his usual place, clasping his hands together in front of him.

And to Mason, he just gets twice as intimidating straight away.

"You're certainly not the kind of person I expected Ms. McCrae to send over, Mr. Dayley" Ayaan points out with no expression in his voice whatsoever, and Mason wonders if Ayaan means it in a good way or a bad way.

He tries to smile through the anxious churn in his stomach. Pull yourself together, man. You're good at what you do. You need this. And you got this. "So have I been told. And please, call me Mason."

Ayaan only nods, eyes fixated on the younger's face unflinchingly. "My sister was quite...determined to get me to hire you. So I don't think there's a need to doubt your skills."

Mason visibly relaxes, sending a silent thanks to Tanvi.

"I can promise you won't be disappointed, sir."

Ayaan nods, but he doesn't look too sure. "Well then, I guess there's nothing to worry about." Mason also thinks he detects a hint of uncertainty in his voice but scratches it away. If Ayaan Sharma doesn't want to believe him, then so be it. He can prove himself later. "And I suppose there's no need for formalities from your side either. Since we're going to be around each other quite a lot for the next few months. Please, call me Ayaan."

"I don't think you're ever ready for the kind of shit you get yourself into, kid," Gwen's voice decides to ricochet inside his head right then and under usual circumstances, he would have snickered at how less she believed in him. But he actually takes it into consideration this time and smiles tightly at Ayaan. "Right, of course."

A lingering feeling that something unexpected is about to happen to him tickles the back of his neck.

Soon.