Uneven

"What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?" Rase sauntered down the hall, hands in his pockets, ruining the line of his expensive suit in favor of looking as casual as only he could afford to do.

"Sorry for the noise, sir," the senior guard said. Rase thought the fellow's name was Bob; in fact, he distinctly remembered having called him Bob on more than one occasion and no one had seen fit to correct him if he was wrong. That was good enough for Rase. "Kid's got something in his pockets."

The 'kid' was wearing pants with enough pockets that Rase wasn't surprised that he'd forgotten something in one of them. Sure enough, one of the guards dug around in a pocket down by the kid's left ankle -- Rase wondered why you'd need a pocket down there, but he supposed you did if there was something in it -- and came up with a pair of handcuffs, of all things.

"Damn." The kid turned around when they let him go, looking irritated. Rase expected that being pinned up against the wall and searched should engender a certain amount of discomfort, even fear, but there was nothing like that in the stockboy's face. "I knew I forgot something."

Rase reached out and plucked the handcuffs from the guard's hand; they were warm from the young man's body, and Rase thought he could smell the steel. "I do think that one would be hard-pressed to forget that one was carrying a pair of these about, unless you tend to moonlight as a police officer." He let them hang from one finger, trying to ignore the heat in his belly at the sight of them. "And haven't they gone to using those plastic zip-ties?"

The young man shrugged. "Nothing wrong with the classics," he said. "Mind if I have them back now?"

There was only the slightest inflection that made that a question, and Rase almost obeyed without thinking. He dropped the handcuffs in the pocket of his suit jacket instead of handing them back, trying to maintain control of the situation. "I do mind," he said. "Take the boxes to the conference room. You can have them back after work; we can't have you setting off metal detectors all day."

The younger man stood there for a moment, looking Rase over as though he were weighing him, sizing him up. It was an uncomfortable feeling. Then he looked Rase in the eye and nodded, the way Rase did when he was giving someone permission. "Sure thing," he said lightly. "I'll pick them up later." He picked up the boxes easily, for all that they were full of metal parts, and went about Rase's business as he was told.

"Thank you, gentlemen," Rase said to the guards. Their bowed heads and mumbled replies gave Rase back a little of his composure, filling him with a flood of relief.

Jingling the handcuffs in his pocket to remind himself that he was still in control, Rase took his time returning to the conference room. They could wait for him. It was good to make people wait once in a while, so that they didn't forget who set the pace of things.