reaganward

[reaganward]

Pasta. The thought intriguing to him, as it had passed through his own mind, as he had looked at the different spreads of ingredients they had, before hearing Ana’s idea, a spark of interest moving through him at the entire concept. “A melding of ideas, and seeing how we each interpret the other’s prompt. I like it,” he acknowledges, as a small flit of a smile crosses his full lips, as he internally starts considering how he wised to go about making a pasta with what he he had.

An Essential Conversation [April 23, 2020]

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[reaganward]

“Exactly,” Reagan replies, a small wisp of a smile crossing the edges of his full lips as she captures the idea and intent behind the concept, taking in all of the ingredients that she had set out before him, making particular note of the pesto and spinach, before moving the laptop to display the ingredients he had prepared in advance that he thought could make for interesting components, and would be ones that, perhaps, they would share, musing to himself what could be made out of the ingredients where they overlapped. “A pesto and spinach flatbread, how does that sound?” He floats out, as a preliminary option, or at least as a springboard, to get the ideas flowing.

An Essential Conversation [April 23, 2020]

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A Talk With Reagan [June 24, 2020]

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- 6:00 P.M., via Skype -

Reagan sits back in his chair, taking a measured sip from his coffee in the room that had been his office for the duration of his stay in London, neatly and precisely dressed for other meetings that he had had prior, moving to dial the number into the application....

Ray stretches out in his chair, his arms raising above his head as he lets out a breath waiting for this fucking to happen already, about to check his phone until he hears the sounds coming from his laptop, gliding his finger along the mousepad to, “Hey, what’s up?” He casually asks out, laying his forearm onto the desk.

“Has all been well?” Reagan amicably asks, taking Ray in. “Everything going smoothly with your work?”

“Oh yeah. Peaches. Freezer bunnies. Blue skies and warm clouds, sure.” Ray replies back, rubbing under his nose as he sniffs in, laying his arm across the other. “It’s fine, that’s what you wanted to talk about?”

Reagan keeps his expression neutral even as he takes in the minute details of the other man’s response, or lack there of, taking a small sip from his coffee cup. “More or less, just wanted to ensure you were doing well, though, perhaps, is there something you wanted to speak about?” He open-endedly offers.

“I’m doing...fine.” Ray reinforces back, his hands moving into the air a bit, as a smile cracks onto his lips, leaning back into his seat, giving a slight shake of his head as they rest against his abdomen. “Nah.”

“Just fine?” Reagan inquires as he hears the response, before amicably stating, “Is there anything Rotham-Ward, or I personally, could do to assist you during these times? I know it hasn’t been the ideal working situation,” he acknowledges.

"Long day. Sure you can empathize, sometimes fine is as good as it is at the end of those." Ray offers back, considering the question for a few beats, "...Nah. It's all good."

“That I Can,” Reagan acknowledges, taking a sip from his coffee, before allowing, “I assume Saxon has forwarded you the email that was sent to our office?”

"Mm. The E-mail, the email..." Ray lowly trails off, his eyes narrowing some in Thought, before moving to answer with a simple, "Yeah. What about it?”

“Not the most nuanced piece of writing, if I may say so,” Reagan acknowledges, with the faintest flit of humor to his tone, moving to take a sip from his coffee, before adding. “Though I suppose I must acknowledge that the protagonist of this story, albeit lack of nuance on the part of its author, whether fiction or nonfiction, has come far. It isn’t easy in the slightest,” he acknowledges to Ray, before taking another sip of his coffee.

A soft snort rumbles out of Ray feeling like that was true enough, even as a strike of...surprise, maybe...swirls through him at the unexpected...response, he guessed...he had been unknowingly anticipating...scratching at the side of his jaw a bit, “Sure you’re not reaching? Sounds almost like you got a secret second half, to the whole thing or something? Careful now, might think You sent the e-mail...”

A small little smile forms on Reagan’s lips as he hears Ray’s response, a little chuckle moving from him. “Perhaps I do,” he hums out, taking a measured sip of the coffee to let that conspiratorially hang in the air, “or perhaps I’ve just written in a similar genre, but I’m certain. It’s commendable, what this protagonist has done, and it’s challenging to continue to make steps forward, but it seems they’re continuing to do it. Rather unfortunate the author whose hands they’ve found themselves in...” He hums out, before floating out, “Have you ever thought about venturing into prose?”

[reaganward]

Reagan puts the finishing touches on his hot toddy, his gaze shifting towards Archer only to realize he was...no longer there, hm, choosing to assume one of the other guests had needed his attention, no more, no less, as his eyes move over the nearly finished product Archer had left behind, cataloguing what it must be missing and adding the last of the ingredients so that Archer could have a finished product when he returned, placing the cinnamon stick perfectly into the mug, before he sees Anastasia again, a warm smile making its way onto his lips. “Just attempting to perfect my art from an incredible tutor,” he acknowledges to Ruben, the smile turning more amicable as he gives a nod of recognition to the man, before watching him take Charlotte off to play, before his gaze shifts back to Anastasia. “Very well,” he acknowledges, taking in the bustling atmosphere, these family and friends and connections of Anastasia’s. “Everyone I’ve met has been so warm and welcoming, and I appreciate you giving me the chance to meet them,” Reagan acknowledges, the warmth moving back into his smile as his gaze meets hers fully. “Was all well with Parker?” He inquires, his thoughts moving to Anastasia’s son and how she had wanted to see her children, he himself having seen Charlotte but not Parker yet.

New Things [December 22, 2019]

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We Meet Again² [November 1, 2019]

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Reagan turns the page of the manuscript, fully engaging with it both as a reader and as a critic, his fingers lightly moving over a certain line in particular that strikes him, finding it a bit...subpar, on first glance, before his eyes move over it yet again, rereading it in his head as he closes his eyes, turning over the words...hm, before his thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the knock at the door.  Moving to set down the manuscript, on a nearby side table, he goes to check that the food was still being kept warm on the stove before heading towards the door of his condo, opening it to greet Anastasia, a congenial smile forming on his lips. "I'm so glad you could make it," he replies, moving to take her coat and hang it on one of the coat hooks situated by the front door.  "I trust your holiday went well?"

"I appreciate the invitation." Anastasia replies in kind, feeling Reagan help her out of her coat as she keeps a hand on the crystal vase housing the alstroemeria, "Thank you." She says, as she moves fully out of her coat, seeing Reagan place it on the hook, presenting the bouquet to him. "A welcome back gift," Anastasia explains, allowing him to grasp hold of it, hoping it was something he could enjoy, having debated between them and a candle, yet settling with learning more before venturing for such an item, knowing just how personalized sense of smell truly was. "I did, the children's reactions were albiet...Mixed," She settles on the word, a bit of a smile forming on her lips as she thinks on the night, in and of itself, intermixed with the pockets of memories, concluding on the whole..."It was a good experience, all around." Allowing him to proccess the slight revelation as he would, a faint curiousity moving within her as to what it could possibly be. "And, yours? How was it?"

Reagan takes in the astroemeria, a smile gracing his lips as he takes hold of them, admiring them in their vase. "Thank you," he informs her, sincerely, before his eyes are drawn towards the perfect place to put them, beneath a particularly precious piece of art he had kept throughout the years, moving to admire the flowers in the vase underneath it. "Very fitting, together," he offers, allowing Anastasia the moment to take in how the vase brightened up the room, how the scent of the flowers brought the space that much more alive, before taking in her words as he leads her towards the dining room, pouring them both a glass of water to start. "Mixed?" He inquires, trying to recall his own childhood memories of Halloween, which were rather...limited, given his grandfather's aversion to the holiday and what it entailed, before a smile crosses his lips at Anastasia remarking on it being a good experience. "I'm glad, then," he offers, before thinking on his own night, spent deep in the throes of this new work, trying to decide exactly...what was to to be done with it. "A relatively peaceful night in, albeit, with a particular companion," he offers, lightly patting the manuscript. "The latest potential new release, but...I've yet to settle what is to be done with it," he offers, keeping his eyes on Anastasia. "Perhaps, I could bounce my thoughts off of you, at some point after dinner?" He inquires, feeling like a discussion with someone whose thoughts he held in as much esteem as he did Anastasia's would help him decide exactly what to do with the thing, what to truly make of it.

A softness creeps onto Anastasia's face, adjusting her glasses a bit, as she watches him place them, hearing his comment. "I'm glad you believe so." She replies back, looking sidelong at him for a few beats, giving a soft wisp of a chuckle, "Parker couldn't have been more unaffected, until that is, Fox happened across a particularly disturbed teenager that caused him to burst into uncontrollable sobs, until Parker came to his rescue alongside Andie, while Charlotte just seemed concern with Archer's acquaintances throw pillows, alas the night ended rather well in spite of all the hubbub..." Anastasia finds herself wrapping it neatly up, moving alongside him into the dining room, the aromatic scents swirling within the air, tantalising to her core receptors, "It smells quite wonderful." She notes, seeing the offhanded comment made one of their previous outings wasn't made in vain, hearing how his night had been a particular curiousity moving within her as she looks at the manuscript, taking a seat, "Of course. Feel free. We could even discuss it now, if you'd like?"

"That I do," he affirms, the small smile still gracing his lips as he moves with Anastasia into the kitchen, taking in her recollection of Halloween intently, sipping from the vintage glasses that looked as if they were made from seaglass, the small, delicate details that adorned them always making them a special part of his collection, his fingers lightly moving along the intricate glasswork that made them into usable pieces of everyday art, letting out a small, warm chuckle at her recollection of the evens. "Sounds like quite the event. It's so wonderful, though, that they're all able to grow up together, share these memories with one another," he muses, just a bright liveliness radiating through the story as told through Anastasia's words, certain he could capture such a thing in the written word, but yet...not having such a memory himself, not quite, his own fragmented memories with his siblings not aligned with such a thing, he internally, fleetingly muses as he takes a sip of water, before hearing her remark about the food, causing the smile to subtly, yet earnestly, present itself once again. "I did take a bit of inspiration," he acknowledges, thinking of the particular dish he had looked forward to trying his hand at that night, after having heard Anastasia's comment, before opening the manuscript, using the back end of the fountain pen to move across the page as he speaks, his trained gaze easily moving across the words. "This is a collaboration by two young authors. One is what one might call a 'prodigy,'" he offers, never honestly liking the term himself, but finding it apt enough for the general perception of the way the young man wrote, "but what I see as perceptiveness, intuition, Trust, perhaps, in the written word, speaking in it, through it, in a language more native to him even than his mother tongue, clear and crisp and unflinching, and...soulful," he decides, as he summarizes his observations of the young man's style as his pen hovers over the examples that were clearly written by his hand alone, tracing the letters, the words, and how they were strung together, in a way he truly did not believe could be written by anyone else, before moving his pen downward, towards a line that to an outside observer might still smoothly flow, might speak, but to him, had subtle cracks in it, an inorganicness that distracted him from the greater piece as a whole, especially compared to what is above it. "His co-author, meanwhile, I believe to be an adept editor, and here I carefully see him weaving, bending his own style to suit the other's, to support it, to naturally mirror it so as, I theorize, not to detract from what the other author put forth on the page, and this in of itself is a talent, to adapt one's style to fit well with that of another, and the care with which he does so is commendable, and yet, it's this very reason I feel the need to reject it, in its current state. I believe that there is something novel, something beautiful, to come out of a true meeting of the minds, a true cohesion, in a work, and I believe this young man to be capable of this, the two of them together. Even though it's acceptable as is, I feel it's worth pushing them, to see something greater than the sum of both of their parts," he finishes, feeling as though that succinctly expressed his own thoughts, before honing his gaze back in on Ana intently, giving her a small, yet sincere smile, removing his pen from the manuscript to allow her to take it in. "I'd be eager to hear your own thoughts as well, how you see it, how it reads to you."

[reaganward]

An Essential Conversation [April 23, 2020]

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Reagan finishes the preparation of all his ingredients, setting them forth on the kitchen counter before heading over towards his laptop, pressing the call button as he waits for Anastasia to answer.

Anastasia takes a tentative drink from her glass of Iced Tea, swirling the ice around with her metal straw a bit as she casts a glance over to her laptop, awaiting the call, one swirl, twoooo, threeee, f...hearing the bubbly tune begin to play as she clicks to answer, “Hello,” She amicably starts, looking him over, a bit of an interesting...deviation to how she was Used to seeing him, in fact, hm. “Well, where should we begin?”

“Hello,” Reagan amicably greets back, a little smile forming on his lips as he takes his laptop over to display his ingredients he had present, before proceeding. “I was thinking this could be a collaboration we could undertake together? Perhaps, taking turns with the steps?” He proposes.