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Suffice to say that his optimism was not matched. Arms crossed, lips pursed—it took only one look at the other man's expression to be able to tell that he was not pleased, either by the visit or something else that had transpired during his day. Either way, Mihai took the cue, and was careful not to be too exuberant in their meeting. It was unlucky of him to have stumbled in at this time—people were always more open to suggestions if they were feeling content and relaxed, and as much as he did pride himself in his powers of persuasion, he doubted he could rapidly improve the mood of a stranger. It didn't mean he was going to turn back empty-handed, anyhow; he would make do with what he had.

Noting that his proffered hand went ignored, he dropped it and passed through the doorway instead. At least it couldn't be a bad indication that he'd been invited to call the other by his first name. "Lukas, then," he repeated, if only to show that the preference had been noted. His inspection of the room, however, was interrupted by the following question. He turned to look at Lukas, his lips curling into a small, self-assured smile. "Quite a bit. Your family isn't exactly obscure," he began, focus drifting a bit to a series of test tubes sitting out on the counter. "And then there's you. A few awards for chemistry, multiple articles published in scientific journals, invitations to guest lecture at universities…" he trailed off, his eyes flickering back over to Lukas. "I don't know too much about the technicalities of your work, I'm afraid. The natural sciences were never my strong suit, so most of what I know has been told to me by my more knowlegeable coworkers. You'll have to forgive me," he finished with a small, cordial nod, his smile becoming a bit sheepish. Couldn't hurt to sprinkle in some humility.

He could feel the eyes on his back as he stepped further into the room. The rich were paranoid—it couldn't be helped. At the same time, he couldn't blame Lukas for being wary of strangers when he was very much the same. Well, it wasn't as though the chemist had been rude yet, so he would return the favor, not that he felt compelled to create a stir over some careful observation. Instead, he followed Lukas as he crossed through the laboratory, past several liquids he couldn't identify. He murmured an excuse for the secretary downstairs even as he looked with curiosity at the experiments on display, "My apologies then. I told my own secretary to make sure people knew why I was coming, but he must have missed explaining one or two times. Regardless, I'm here to let you know all the details."

Stepping through the second door—which apparently led to some sort of lounge—he was greeted with another sight that was very different, but just as absorbing, as the multicolored lab. For the most part, he ignored the long table and other furniture, fixating on the nearly panoramic view of the city offered by the wall-to-ceiling windows. Visibly impressed by the scenery, he left Lukas' side and walked over, leaning close but taking care not to touch the immaculate glass. He could see the tops of several other surrounding buildings—many of them small compared to this one—and the skyline as the buildings and streets and cars grew smaller and smaller until they graced the grey London heavens. The rich really could afford some amazing luxuries, he thought. It was an appeal of money that he could understand, and yet, for the most part, would not allow himself to succumb to. And even with his pay, he didn't know if he could afford this.

His silent appreciation was interrupted by Lukas, and he did as he was told, turning back to sit at one of the couches. "This is gorgeous," he said as he set down his briefcase. "I'd kill for this kind of view at my office." Slightly joking, testing the waters, seeing if he could somewhat lighten the mood. He discarded his own suit jacket, draping it over the arm of his seat and loosened his tie, figuring that Lukas wouldn't mind. The man was dressed rather casually, after all. Mihai supposed that a suit wasn't necessary if he worked alone, which was an enviable thing indeed. As he took note of this, he couldn't help but also take note of how well Lukas' choice of jeans complemented his legs. Especially when he turned towards the coffee machine. If they did end up working together, Mihai would do his utmost to make the best of the partnership.

"Just a coffee would be fine, thank you," he answered with a small smile. Never turn down a caffeine boost, and he suspected that as rich as the Bondeviks are, the coffee was probably good coffee. As Lukas took his time with the preparation, he flipped open the latches of his briefcase and produced a couple of folders, both of them heavy with papers. He'd decided that his course of action would be to get directly to business; Lukas didn't seem like the type to appreciate meaningless small-talk, and anything Mihai asked that might produce meaningful conversation could be perceived as suspicious. So he opted for the direct route. He'd have a chance to get to know the other man better throughout the course of their meeting, he was sure.

"My proposal is being made on the behalf of the Home Office," he began. "Specifically for the purposes of my own agency, that is. The Counterterrorism Initiative. Our purpose is… pretty self-explanatory." A small laugh, then he went on to outline the proposed project. The idea was for slow-acting poisonous gasses, which could be used to better dissuade terrorists and hopefully to be deployed in hostage situations. Naturally, an antidote would be necessary as well. They'd already contacted several chemists who were renowned for their work and urged them to collaborate with the government for some kind of compensation, mostly monetary. "I'm not sure that would interest you though," he added. Indeed, Lukas had probably enough money to last him a lifetime, even if he refurbished his lab and all its equipment every year. "But if you do take us up on our proposal, we can offer you access to government-sensitive information, facilities, samples… Things I'm sure could be very helpful in your future research, but very difficult to access for civilians. Even if they have money to offer. Of course, we're also open to requests." he smiled, giving a small shrug. "Well, you've heard what I had to say. Feel free to look through a more detailed explanation," he nodded at the folders, "and thoroughly consider your answer. Of course, if you have any questions I'm completely at your disposal."

Lukas Bondevik

Just wait here, I'll bring us dinner, Lukas had said. Mihai didn't know why he wasn't allowed to go with or why Lukas hadn't just met up with him later, but he hadn't a chance to ask. So it had ended up with him in the Bondeviks' house, alone save for the warning that Lukas had left him with about his younger brother who was "most likely in his room and doesn't often come out." For all intents and purposes, pretty much alone, which was mostly fine by him. He hadn't yet had a chance to see Lukas' place (and it was a grand place indeed), and it would be a lie to say that he wasn't curious about it. Usually he didn't take much interest in the personal lives of his sexual partners, but it was a tempting prospect to bear witness to how those as rich as the Bondeviks lived. As he waited for Lukas, he spent some time exploring the rooms of the flat as surreptitiously as possible—that is, letting himself through unlocked doors and disturbing the contents of their rooms only minimally. What he'd learnt so far was that the Bondeviks didn't seem to be much for personal effects—family photos and such occupying minimal space—with more of a lust for the most recent technology. It all appeared remarkably impersonal, in his opinion.

Seeing as the house had been quite quiet and still throughout his exploration, no little brother to be seen, he momentarily entertained his baser instincts. Finding himself standing in what must be the office room, he contemplated the possibility of unearthing a few secrets—corporate or personal—that might be tucked away in the desk drawers or the computer. There was no denying that he was very tempted, just to see what he could discover, but he decided against it at the last moment. He tucked the lock picks back into his jacket and left the study, closing the door quietly behind him. Who knew what kind of security system the Bondeviks could have, whether a mistake could cast suspicion on him, and he still had to keep Lukas' trust. After all, he was simply a guest who was genuinely interested in the affections of the eldest sibling, which had nothing at all to do with his knowledge of chemistry and how willing he was to do as Mihai requested. He decided to indulge the rest of his time in the perfectly acceptable location of the living room, comfortably slumped on the couch and making use of the television set.

It was due to his earlier exploration of the place that he was a bit surprised to hear a door hitting the wall, followed by footsteps. Frowning, his hand flew to his holster—just in case—but his paranoia was shown to be rather unfounded when he heard a voice calling for Lukas. He sounded young—probably the brother Lukas had told him about, who had been hidden away in one of the rooms Mihai hadn't bothered to explore. Whatever he expected of the younger Bondevik, however, Mihai wasn't quite prepared to see him wander in in nothing but a towel. He experienced a brief interruption of thought, the type that he usually went through when he was discovered in some awkward position at a partner's house by a third party. Which is to say, this wasn't at all an unprecedented event. His mind caught up quickly enough, and he answered with what would make the most sense in this rather bizarre situation. "Your brother is out at the moment. If there's something I can help you with—" At least that was what he was going for, before the towel dropped.

He averted his eyes (the logical response when faced with the sudden and unexpected nakedness of a stranger), albeit with something like a sigh. If he never had an inopportune run-in with relatives of the people he slept with again, it would still be too soon. Even worse when said relative happened to be younger and he was somehow roped into the position of a temporary babysitter, and judging from the behavior of the younger Bondevik, it seemed he might have to assume that role this time too. He'd seemed feverish or overheated in some way, Mihai had judged from his brief look at the boy before, but it shouldn't be anything he couldn't take care of on his own. But with rich kids, who knew? "Are you okay?" Mihai asked, the compulsory question to anyone who appeared to be out of sorts. "Lukas shouldn't be gone much longer if it's him you need for something."

He sighed, feeling the weariness in his bones as traffic slowly wound on. Work had been unexpectedly busy the past few days, thanks to a colossal fuck-up by one of their rookies that had each and every one of his superiors working overtime on damage control. It inevitably meant more time spent on the job for Mihai, who qualified as perhaps the most charmingly evasive employee who had more than a few reporters wrapped around his finger. He didn't mind it so much (much more entertaining than paperwork, which he'd been able to push off to other coworkers in return for managing the PR crisis), but nearly eight hours a day consisting of press conferences with the public and more private conferences with a few select reporters exerted its own share of mental and emotional toll. He wanted to go home and go to sleep without dealing any more with people, but he was rather reminded of the fact he'd not eaten since breakfast by the empty ache in his stomach. Which probably meant a restaurant trip, because he was definitely not in the mood to cook for himself.

When traffic stopped for the fifth time, he groaned and dropped his head against the steering wheel. Goddamn rush hour. Goddamn people. It wasn't an entirely new, but definitely a rare, thing for him to want desperately to be away from the rest of humanity, but it seemed that today was such a day. Except, the road to his right caught his eye. He knew he could take that street to get to a certain casino—more importantly, to someone who lived near there. He considered the possibility, biting at his lip. People were people, but Francis was a slightly different matter… He was always awfully kind, and Mihai could count on food and being able to talk freely; that is, not have to worry about how to best conduct himself for The Independent to write well of CI. And come to think of it, because of the added workload, he hadn't really met up with anyone for fun for awhile ("fun" as in actual enjoyment—God knows Francis had already made it clear he didn't want to continue that aspect of their relationship anymore, and he certainly has not had a lack of it, seeing as it worked so well as a gentle persuasion to get journalists on his side).

As the car in front of him started inching forward again, he decided 'fuck it,' and veered off to the right and down the street towards Fortuna Magnus. The traffic on the way wasn't much more pleasant, but at least the drive there was shorter than the drive home would have been. Hopefully, the congestion would be cleared up by the time he headed back, but for the moment he would take comfort in the fact that he was pulling into the parking lot. If Francis didn't have any guests over, he would probably be fine with Mihai showing up unannounced—it was often his habit anyway, and Francis had always been so indulgent with him. It was an attribute of his that Mihai appreciated—there was something lovely about being comforted and doted on, and at least that hadn't changed after the break-up of their physical relationship. Though that would have been nice to keep too, but he was capable of the occasional give and take.

Arriving at Francis' door and ringing the doorbell, he felt a small rush of relief. Soon enough he would have a little reprieve from stresses of the day, and he hoped Francis would have the time for him. It would've been disappointing to make the impromptu detour for nothing. He didn't have to wait long though, no more than a minute before the door swung open and he was met with Francis' familiar blue eyes (they always made him feel like he could melt into that gaze, soft and warm like velvet and there was little that could've been more comforting in that moment). "Hey," he greeted with a small smile, dulled from its usual cheer by weariness. "Hope you don't mind the intrusion." Francis wouldn't, he knew, but there was a cheekiness in the courtesy anyway—he usually made himself welcome, intrusion minded or not, though Francis was one who actually seemed to welcome his improvised visits.