The Ordinary Haunting

28. The Bad Flirting - Part 1

"Gentlemen," I greeted my worldly, weary comrades. I adjusted my chair so that it was facing them square-on.

"Gentleman," they replied in unison. Arm crossed his right leg over his left, sticking his heel out so that it was jammed next to one of the wheels. Off punched the little cushion he kept at the small of his back and shoved it behind him once more.

"No-one ever says that," I said, poking my chin, "just 'Gentleman' when entering a room with one guy. They say his name. Why is that?"

"To be fair, no-one really enters a room and says 'Gentlemen' anymore, either," Arm replied. He flicked at some hair tickling his ear. Off nodded slowly.

"The lost age of pomp. We're worse without it."

"True. Where's all the dignity gone? The culture?"

I sighed at the two of them and they soon followed, a soft, pensive silence falling over the room.

And then the microwave screamed.

The three of us jolted in our chairs and started trying to wheel ourselves out of the way of whomever was about to come for their lunch. I had barely cleared the doorway, as Arm and Off tussled in a game of dodge-em for the nicely protected triangle of corner next to the cleaning supplies, when Guy Sivakorn appeared. He had a pair of chopsticks behind his ears -- one behind each -- and was slipping his phone into his back pocket. He saw us and gave a slick smile.

"Gentlemen."

Off giggled. "Well, shit."

Guy walked over to the microwave and knuckled the door open. He peeled away the plastic film of some kind of quick meal, stirred it with one of his chopsticks, and returned it to cook for another minute. The wet, old smell of formerly frozen basil pasta found our nostrils.

"Oh, did you get that from downstairs?" Arm asked excitedly. "I thought they'd discontinued that."

Guy turned and leaned against the counter. "They brought it back, I think. Too many of us complained." He let out a deep chuckle, his unbuttoned shirt shifting open down his chest. I studied the diffenbachia -- still yellow -- behind his head with half-closed eyelids. Guy tipped himself into my view. "Except for Tay Tawan, obviously."

I debated with myself whether it would help my image to stand up from my chair right now, or just harm it if I happened to have trouble with the wheels on the slippery tiles. I decided to remain boredly seated for the time being. "I never ate from there before I died, either," I said with a sniff.

Guy's smug smile widened. "That's what I meant. Much too good for it, eh."

My eye twitched. "Your point?"

The microwave beeped again and Guy glanced at it without moving. "I'm actually making this for New," he said. My chair creaked all on its own. "Well, both of us, but I'll probably just end up letting him eat most of it. Feels like it's been ages since we've had bad microwave food together. When we're cramming some proofreading projects close to deadlines we like to hole up in one of the meeting rooms, and we'll share a bunch of sodas and pasta meals. New does this thing where he takes off his shoes and puts his feet on another chair and pushes it back and forth while he's reading. It's like his body is subconsciously exercising, you know? I don't think he even knows he does it. It's very--"

Off coughed and gave Guy a light wiggle of his fingers. "Cool. Also, your food is going to get pretty cool if you stand there much longer."

Guy shrugged his wide shoulders but went to retrieve his -- or whoever's -- food all the same. Arm quickly stood up and prodded us aside so that he could take a closer look at the meal, confirming its authenticity. I twisted myself back around and caught Off reclined in his seat watching me.