"We're not the Justice League here, we're Kaiser-Reiss," says a voice from behind him, pompous with just a shade of self-righteousness. "If you want to go raining your funds down on a bunch of thirsty millionaire wannabees, go ahead. But don't put our money in that shitty pot."
The world is an interesting place, Erwin Smith realized when he was a child. There are all kinds of people in this world, and to be honest, Erwin could appreciate the nature and function of each. That doesn't change the fact that Nile Dok is one of the most obnoxious pieces of dumbfuck Erwin has had the educational experience of meeting.
"We are Kaiser-Reiss," Erwin smoothly counters, his tone level but voice firm and commanding. "And we win. Winning a small victory, as Mr. Dok suggests at this moment, is not an unfavorable circumstance. However, missing a big victory due to a shortsighted perspective is not worthy of this table of reputable lawyers. This so-called bunch of thirsty millionaire wannabees, as Mr. Dok eloquently puts it, are on their way to the big leagues. Five years is not a long time to wait for the glowing publicity and remarkable profits we could earn from this deal."
"And the risks?" Nile drawls out, slightly shaken by Erwin's indomitable confidence but not willing to back down just yet. Erwin could almost smile. If only Dok knew what was coming to hit him, but of course he doesn't. Because that's how Erwin Smith operates—attack swiftly and without chance for retaliation.
As if on cue, Mike stands from across the table and hands out folders. "Projections, from three separate reputable financial consultants and our own team of financial experts."
"Under whose supervision?" Nile leers, and Erwin notes his complete lack of tact.
"Mine," Mike answers, defiant despite his junior partner standing.
"You're Smith's dog!" Nile scoffs, throwing his hands up in the air.
With an icy glare, Mike replies, "I believe I have been deemed reasonably competent by the firm in these affairs."
"And where did the resources to pay for these consultants come from? You cost us a heckton for your own purposes!" Nile practically screeches at Erwin, sweat pouring down his neck. His hand twitches as if in need to adjust his tie. Erwin almost pities him.
Almost.
"These consultants owe me favors from previous engagements," Erwin explains with steepled fingers. He opens his hands and looks at each partner in the eye. "This can be easily verified. In contrary to Mr. Dok's accusation, I am using personal resources for the company's purposes. To prove that this deal is not riskless, but viable. No deal is ever riskless, and few are as viable as this."
And then, the final blow. Erwin turns to Nile, looking him straight in the eye. "Playing safe is a bigger risk than most people realize, although I deem that all of us here are competent enough to acknowledge this."
There's a reason Erwin Smith is rumored to be next-in-line to the retiring managing partner, and that morning, Nile Dok fully understood what that is.
"Now that was a good morning," Mike says in his signature low voice, but as his long-time friend, Erwin easily recognizes the lilt of utter satisfaction.
"You are particularly vindictive today," Erwin comments. "You were speaking to a senior partner you know."
Mike rolls his eyes. "I seriously doubt the sanity of whoever offered him the slot. That man might not even know how to file a patent, or to even fix his own tie."
"Well, he does boast of having a trophy wife to tie it for him," Erwin says.
"You mean his third one. And if we're just talking about women who would be willing to fix our ties, you'd probably have a new candidate every day," Mike mutters.
"You are quite talkative today too," Erwin says with a chuckle. Mike really hates Dok's guts, Erwin notices once more. Erwin doesn't, even though he acknowledges that Mike has enough reason to.
"There are all sorts of things in this world, Erwin," his father told him once. "Learn of them, and learn from them."
But keep your doors locked, Erwin now adds. Or they might bite your head off. Like they did your father.
But now is not the time for such recollection. Clasping Mike's shoulder in a brotherly fashion, Erwin steers them both to the revolving doors. "A good drink then, before we have to remember exactly how much work we have for tonight."
Mike groans at that. "Sometimes Smith, I wish you had a girlfriend so you'd stop being such a slave driver."
With a deadpan voice, Erwin says, "So you wish I was a screw driver so I won't be a slave driver."
After twelve years of friendship, Mike's response is automatic and resigned. Slapping Erwin's face lightly twice, he mumbles, "Smith, if only your sense of humor is as palatable as your pretty face."
Whenever Erwin Smith says: "Let's get to work", one would have to wonder if he doesn't actually mean: "Let's sacrifice our physiological needs and psychological health to the altars of Kaiser-Reiss". His dedication is utterly horrifying. However, it's equally admirable, which is what earns Erwin his sterling reputation and the unparalleled respect of both colleagues and clients.
One would have to give it to him as well, that while he demands 100%, he gives 200%. By eleven that day, the associate's workplace is empty and dark, while Erwin's office remains brightly lit. He emerges from his chair after six straight hours of sitting on it and preparing court documents. His coat is on the rack, his shirt slightly rumpled and his usually perfect hair slightly tousled. He definitely needs a cup of that glorious brewed tea from the pantry.
While walking down the hall, he receives a call from Mike, who informs him he's about to head home. Usually they'd leave at the same time, but this particular case is special enough to Erwin to warrant extra personal hours.
As he approaches the main hallway, Erwin spots the silhouette hanging off the ground and facing the high glass wall. One hand is holding a cleaner, wiping the surface with enough vigor that each stroke causes the biceps to ripple.
The voice continues from his mobile. "It would've been better if it was an actual drink, but it was tea, Smith. Fucking boiled leaves—"
"You can't ever smear the honor of tea, Mike," Erwin states, but his full attention is now fixed on the man before him. It registers to him that it is eleven o'clock at night, and there's this janitor totally engaged in wiping the hell out of a window that already looks impeccably clean to him. The reflection on the window reveals a face crumpled in utter devotion to the task at hand.
"I can see you staring, you know," the man says, in a low, disgruntled tone. "But you are damn right about the tea."
"Good work today, Mike," Erwin says to his phone, waiting for Mike's reply before he pushes the end button.
"Is this some kind of punishment?" he says to the janitor. "I didn't know cleaning personnel would still be doing routine work at this hour."
Without even pausing in his work, the man replies flatly, "Janitors clean the shit out of things sir. Our personal lives don't mean much."
The normal Erwin would tell the person he's doing a good job, and give him a light warning that most senior partners wouldn't appreciate his manner of speaking and it would be such a shame to lose a good employee (and there would be no sarcasm there, this guy seems damn good at what he does). The normal Erwin would get on to his business of obtaining his cup of tea, of continuing his work, foregoing this stranger completely.
Erwin doesn't know what force is beckoning him. Maybe it's the lack of sleep, or the mental stress, or the physical exhaustion. Maybe it's this attitude and dedication he's never seen from a janitor. So instead of walking away, Erwin sits on a plush bench near the man and throws his head back.
"What is it, sir?" the man finally says after a few moments of totally awkward silence. He's still not pausing in his work.
"Why are you still here if it's not punishment?" Erwin continues, head snapping back to his lone companion.
"I never said it wasn't punishment," the man mutters.
"You look like you're personally engaged in what you're doing, even though your supervisor isn't here," Erwin counters.
The man finally pauses and turns to face him. Where he got the muscle strength and flexibility to do so while hanging, Erwin could only wonder about. "You are in a position ten times higher than my supervisor, sir. So why shouldn't I work ten times harder around you?"
"It's probably more than ten times," Erwin says mildly, with no hint of arrogance in his tone. "And at that point, why would I care how a janitor performs?"
"I would, if I were you," the man says, shadowed sharp eyes looking down on Erwin's. "Incompetence from any of the staff is inconvenient, even from a janitor. It would be less inconvenient to just snap your fingers at my supervisor to get such a nuisance employee fired."
Erwin tilts his head, considering him. "You're talking to a senior partner."
"And you are talking to a janitor, but I would guess you know that, sir," the man says unflinchingly. Then, he returns to his work. "What if you, a senior partner, takes a bigass client down these corridors tomorrow and they see a filthy glass window? It might not mean much, rationally, but the brain is dumb and so it gets tricked into making first impressions that don't make much sense. Anyway, I don't care. I just want this damn window clean until it squeaks like inflamed ass cheeks."
For a moment, Erwin is too stunned to speak. This is practically unheard of. Before he could recover though, the man continues, "Ah, shit. Dunno where that came from. Maybe I'm just sleepy or stressed or tired."
At that, Erwin chuckles softly. The man turns back to him, annoyance plain on his face. Erwin notes that his eyebrows have been scrunched since they started talking. He assumed it was due to concentration, but it seems to be perpetual.
"What's your name?" he asks. "I'm Erwin Smith, senior partner for Kaiser-Reiss."
"Kaiser-Reiss. Buncha cutthroat smartasses, I hear."
Erwin raises an eyebrow. "You hear?"
Levi nods solemnly. "Janitors hear everything."
Erwin laughs full on this time, running a hand through his decidedly mussed up hair. "Actually, I am a cutthroat smartass, but at least fifteen aspiring young businessmen with no big names to back them up will benefit from that fact tomorrow. But you didn't answer my question."
"As if. After everything, I'm gonna get my poor ass hauled off if I tell you my name," the man replies, rolling his eyes.
"That eye roll seals the deal, you know," Erwin says gravely. "I'm hauling you out myself."
"And ruin that shirt? That probably costs twice my goddamn monthly salary," the man rolls his eyes again. With an unfussed voice, he relents. "Whatever. My life's ruined anyway. It's Levi."
The normal Erwin reserves the smile he's smiling now to his close friends and family, but then again, he's not being very normal today. Looking straight at Levi's eyes—slate gray, now under the city lights—he offers a hand. "Well, Levi, you're one hell of a janitor."
Levi squirts disinfectant at his outstretched hand before shaking it. "Erwin Smith. I won't forget you. Apparently Kaiser-Weiss has one halfway-decent bigshot."
The next day, of course, the normal Erwin Smith is back. Pushing through the imposing revolving doors with steady hands, he watches as the receptionists and a handful of employees immediately turn their attention to him. Confident stride, perfectly unruffled smile and immaculate custom suit—even here, he stands out. Every morning since he's been an associate, this morning ritual persists.
On his way to the elevator, however, something unusual happens. His eyes fall on a janitor cleaning away at a corner window. Instead of simply passing by, he slows down.
"Morning, Levi," he says, like he was greeting a fellow partner. From his hanging position, Levi turns to him and, with some foam on his face, returns the greeting with a grunt.
"Morning, sir."
From where he's standing in the elevator cabin, Mike's eyes widen slightly. As his friend enters the lift, he gives him the usual smile as if nothing happened.
Before the doors close, however, Erwin catches a final glimpse of Levi on the mirrored walls. Those gray eyes are fixed downward, directly on Erwin's ass.
A/N: Ah, it's been years since I attempted a multi-chap! I hope I do a lot better this time around. Tell me what you guys think!