He was a poisonous man.
All be it that he was very polite - he offered his hand to Andrew as he boomingly introduced himself in a tone of grandeur - but the man could feel a certain electricity as Fontaine's thick fingers closed about his own with a wrenching clutch, like he was a cat preparing to pounce. Perhaps Ryan was simply too schizophrenic…after all, governing a completely avante garde city like Rapture would surely be mentally taxing on an otherwise normal man like himself. But Fontaine seemed…different, in some way. Like he couldn't be trusted.
Ryan watched this man carefully, as if he were some foreign influence of cultural oddity. But perhaps it was because Fontaine didn't fit that image that made the man so uneasy. But they couldn't simply stand and shake hands all afternoon…so Ryan did what he thought would be proper, which he dreaded more than his office springing a leak: he had to start a conversation with this Fontaine guy.
He hesitated, but withdrew his hand mustered a polite smile. "So…why did you ask to meet me?" he began, his tone…somewhat kind, but mostly just bored, plainly showing that in his mind, Fontaine was not worth a conversation. "I shouldn't think that I'm that interesting to the owner of a fishery."
"I just wanted to get a glimpse at the man behind the magic!" Fontaine answered, rather loudly in his thick accent of the Bronx. Ryan winced - never before had he been this close to what he considered a ruffian, and although it was interesting, he hated it with a burning desire to lock himself in his office. "Can ya blame, me Andy?"
Ryan's eyes flashed. "Mr. Ryan, if you please."
"Nah, we're goin' to be too close for formality, Andy!" And then Fontaine did a thing that Ryan would NEVER forgive - he reached out with a hand and clapped the man on his back with a heavy hand.
He couldn't believe it. He was TOUCHED. By this…this BEAST. Ryan's smile vanished into a snarl worthy of rabid dogs, and he even began to growl lowly under his breath, but Fontaine didn't make any acknowledges towards it - the hopeless moron. Ryan took his wrist rather roughly, forcing, FORCING a smile as he lowered the man's hand back to his side; but more importantly, far away from himself. "That's Mr. Ryan, if you please," he repeated, his voice low and thunderous, like he was threatening death.
Caught by surprise as politeness suddenly went down the drain, Fontaine blinked. "Sorry there, Mr. Ryan…didn't mean to upset ya or anything." He smiled in that annoying way he did, as if he did nothing wrong.
"Yes, I'm sure," Andrew answered, then brought his wrist upwards, glancing at the bare skin peeking out beneath his suit sleeve and pretending to be shocked. When Frank attempted to glance at the flesh-colored time as well, the man dropped his arm away from him before he could catch his lie. "Oh, look at the time…I really must be going. I have…paperwork."
Fontaine said nothing as Ryan turned away, walking back the way he came. Neither man had any idea of the expressions he was receiving at that moment: Fontaine, an arrogant, suspicious glare over the shoulder. Ryan, a sickly smile as Fontaine's pieces began falling into place.