The Confrontation

    Dozens and dozens of floors below the surface, it doesn’t take long to reach the ground floor, it never does.

    The first time you’re in there, it feels like an eternity, watching the numbers on the yellowed indicator above the metal gates makes the ride feel longer. Ren, however, had a way to speed up the process. It wasn’t one or the other, more so a combination of both things: talking to his fellow colleague- unwillingly- while lighting a smoke. Ivy was superhuman in her right that- as the last recruiters returning back to the hotel- she would accompany Ren. She didn’t mind the smoke, breathing in puffs of air like she was on the top of a mountain and looking down at paradise, to how she could withstand that suffocating muck? Only the gods would know. After discovering that there were smoke detectors in the lift- the recruiter had it out to disarm the cursed thing that screamed and blared when it was tripped. It wasn’t a hard thing to miss, especially when it was his first few days on the job and started yelling immediately.

    Ren would exit the elevator, the doors opening up to reveal the lobby. His fellow coworkers were to be going back and forth, cleaning and tidying up. Ah- right, then there was the Bellboy who greeted everyone who entered and exited. He was the guardian to those metal gates that were so very pleased to allow a passage to the foyer. And every time Ren landed, he was greeted with a cleaning wagon. There wasn’t a problem with the smoke detector anymore, but then there was that. The red-eyed freak would pull a janitorial cart out just to pick up after the ashy mess left behind- swatting out the stench that the reeking gray clouds would abandon. The lobby dweller wasn’t mean about it, just only giving a disapproving look and sometimes bestowing a prudish lecture about that bad habit of Ren’s. He could really only shrug and slip away while the red-hat sporting boy rolled in, an orangey can of air freshener in his grasp. This occasion was like no other. Usually, the recruiter would turn to the nearby ashtrays and put out the cigarette. Though, in remembering the hour, he rejected the thought--it wouldn’t matter so much, to be minding his smoking around guests, that is.

    In general, Ren was a pretty mindful person. Though, he stayed quite stubborn with his self-indulgence and he didn’t care if it was damaging to his health--as a former doctor, he would know, but again; he could care less. Now, he only ever avoided smoking around children and the young teenage workers he would sometimes bump into. That and the other employees didn’t mind his smoking during closing hours… or at least they didn’t bring it to his attention. While walking, he thought about it for a second. His bad habit wasn’t a problem to others, besides the poor Bellboy who--at this point didn’t bother to pester the older male about it further. Other than that, there wasn’t anything he did to bother anyone.

    To say that he got along relatively well with his coworkers, wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t completely true either. It wasn’t that Ren was an unpleasant person, enough to where others disliked him or avoided him.  He was just the type to be very reserved and it wasn’t in him to bring up a conversation with someone else. And that made most of his interactions with the staff very limited. Though there was Ivy. The only reason he got along well with Ivy, relied heavily on the fact that she was always the one to initiate the talking. More onto that, both of them were recruiters, Ren always valued the communication between them. It was important.

    And then there was a particular waiter, one that was by no means- easy to miss. Surprisingly he was quiet, when he wasn’t making a joke out of himself. Clumsy yet perceptive. While the other employees hurried around the hotel with broom and cloth in hand- reorganizing the heart of the establishment- Ren wandered. It wasn’t unusual, after all, what else could he possibly help with? This was a ritual of sorts to him, resetting himself to fit back into the confines of these red walls. He was never down below for more than resting and reporting back with new recruits, the changes that surfaced were scarce but barely noticeable unless pointed out- then they were obvious.

    Unlike the rest of the staff, recruiters were granted the gift of roaming the surface; to be as free as a shackled bird. He could run, escape, but honestly- things were better this way.

    Now, where does the cyclops of a man play in? It would be an understatement to say ‘every so often’ when in all reality it was a day-to-day occurrence that just so happened to become a part of that nightly routine- that the waiter would peep around and linger. He never said anything, when he was caught- he’d just hurry away like a skittering roach. Ren didn’t know the man or know what could be so possibly interesting about himself to pull this kind of attention. Annoying and mildly disconcerting, there was a growing distaste towards this habit. The kind of growing irritation akin to a leaky faucet that just won't stop. This stalker-esq behavior was getting on his nerves, like right now:

    Tell the recruiter why- when he’s just heading towards the hallway that branched out into the other lofts of the establishment, he saw a blur of white. Tell him why he saw a particular pair of cowlicks sticking out and then shucking back behind the wall, bobbling like the world's most annoying set of antennae. Sighs dragged out darkened mist, rolling behind while the scout evaluated the sighting. He knew it was the waiter, Ren is so sure enough to know it.

    Pondering for just a moment, with a light huff and biting the inside of his cheek, Ren proceeded to reject his tendency to normalize this abnormality. Just for tonight, however, just for tonight- instead of walking away and just brushing it off, letting it slide, clicking a tongue in displeasure, and burning through the rest of his pack before sleeping- he amused it. Just like any good recruiter, he could track down the shorter man with ease. Not to say that it was hard to, Ren’s seen the guy smack into walls from time to time, or stumble into tables; poor sense of depth perception came with having one eye after all. And just like any good recruiter, he treaded carefully, quieted footsteps, and keeping a distance from the other- not enough to lose him but enough to give the broom-wielding-one some peace of mind in believing that he was alone.

    In any other imaginable case, feeling like a shadow could feel like the worst thing. Interestingly enough, for Ren, it was amusing. Among the cleaned tables that dawned flipped seats resting against the now bare face, there was virtually nothing else to clean up. The tablecloths were taken care of, the lights were mostly off, only one section was illuminating the whole space really. Maybe there was a kind of entertainment in watching someone, no- not like that. For the smoker, it was seeing how long it would take for the waiter to notice him. How long would it take for the cracked doll to breathe in the rolling clouds of dust and fill his lungs, to notice one chair having been removed from one of the many tables- now set on the clean floor and someone filling that space? He was sweeping nothing, not a single thing at all. He was practically waltzing with the broom, so- to really make the man’s job feel fulfilling- Ren gave him something to clean.

    As much as the recruiter liked to smirk at the idea of the waiter's face of surprise and horror at the realization of the actual situation at the moment, Ren knew he needed to get to the bottom of this. Half afraid of having the slightly-shorter male run away, he finally walked up and placed a hand on their shoulder. Of course, it startled the unsuspecting man--nearly jumping and throwing the broom a foot away from him.

    "Hey-"

    The once quiet-as-a-mouse man squeaked, ironically- just like one too. Fumbling and having the neck of the tool slip and slide in his grasp- ultimately it clattered and hit the floor. Spinning around to face that semi-familiar voice, casting an eye to the man before him only caused a coldness to stricken in his throat. Devoid of words, immediate ones at least. What really lofted out was a wavering hand that rose to wave half-heartedly and a nod, barely even an audible greeting drifted out like the smoke that lofted from the slightly taller man, barely even doing a good impression of a mime. It was safe to say that the waiter felt like he was caught with a hand in the cookie jar. What possibly could happen next? He couldn’t puzzle it together, his poor brain rattled in that porcelain skull of his- unable to process that he had made a noticeable error in tracking the recruiter to himself.

    "Sorry for startling you like that." No, no he wasn't. In fact, he almost wanted to chuckle, but again--he was here to pry the pathetic waiter for an explanation. If the server had two of his eyes still, they could have been jittering in his head from being hit with- well, this. When he shook his head, it was like his cranium was going to pop right off his head; he’s trying too hard to be expressive. “It’s fine! It's fine- it's just uh- dark. Yeah, dark.” Repeating to himself in reassurance, the silver-haired one’s tone rose and fell like ocean waves, peaks crashing down into murmurs. He didn’t exactly know what to say, nor did he want to remain here. Goddess above- the one-eyed one wished he were invisible or that he was just thinking of this awful scenario, that this was just his imagination and not the real deal. Gulping, he sucked in a breath, the man shivered. Occasionally he glanced down, looking at the floor, he was watching his distance. “So-o what can I do for you?”

    Before Ren could bring up the long-awaited question that plagued his mind about the silver-haired one, he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the nervous movements of the man's hands and...well everything- "Spencer, was it?"

    Cringing momentarily, it was presented more as a flinch more than anything. “Spengler.” He corrected “It-It’s Spengler.” Eyeing the man like he was trying to read him up and down, Spengler was smarter than he behaved- so he could very much feel the confrontation of his spying coming to a head. He was looking at the doorway out, like he was about to bolt for it, but those locked knees aren’t going to let him out any time soon.

    "Oh, right...apologies- Spengler," Ren muttered, now catching more of the back and forths of the other's gaze. It was clear that the waiter wanted nothing more to do with the recruiter, the poor guy looked like he was close to crumbling into dust under the eyes of the other. Ren fought against pointing out the obvious and instead went straight to the point. "What the hell is your problem?"

    Sucking in a breath, he could feel his palms sticking to the cloth of his gloves, growing clammy. The sudden switch was- granted, finally the anticipation clicked, the niceties were off-putting at best. It wasn’t like Ren was yelling or whatnot, but that trick of sharpness really jabbed at the doll.  “My problem?” Despite all the times he’s thought of this happening before, “What's yours?” he never could really piece together a good enough lie to get himself out of it. So all he could do now- “I mean- I did ask what I could help you with and- uh- y’don’t sound too happy.” All Spengler could do now was stall. Ren let out a huff. Of course. Even when he expected this to be the answer- or more so, the question to his question--he wasn't too well happy with the situation now. Not angry, but definitely annoyed. He's dealt with the waiter's bullshit for far too long and now the guy wanted to play dumb? Please.

    "You know perfectly what I'm talking about," he said, swatting away Spengler's words about the dark-haired one's emotions. Ren usually didn't let his anger get to him, or hell- he rarely displayed any actual emotions. But the pathetic eyepatch wearer wasn't making it easy. Biting his bottom lip in a wince, it was like Spengler could feel his stomach digesting his heart that just dropped right now. ”Do I?” Oh- sir, no, no not like this. The immediate regret of his stalling was really kicking in. He was practically sinking into his collar like a turtle retreating into its shell. For such a big, empty room, the waiter felt confined.

    "Don't play dumb," Ren muttered, irritated, almost a growl slowly rising up to his throat. It would have been almost amusing to think that the one being confronted would have stopped lying by now. Ren would have maybe even chuckled in response to how stupid Spengler's act was, if it was any other scenario. He was starting to lose his patience. “I’m not as smart as y’think, mister.” Laughing nervously, and now he was definitely looking at the door out, but it was hypocritical- how he was backing up at the same time. “If y’lost your lighter I could always ask that nurse guy, o-or take it up with the front desk?” He was not being very convincing, at all. "And I'm not as dumb as you think," Ren about nearly had it. He grabbed Spengler by his white tie and pulled him towards his direction. His smokey gray eyes locked onto the slightly smaller male's terrified expression--he looked like he could faint. If it was the case, Ren was ready to slap him awake, he wasn't going to let Spengler get away anymore.

    "So tell me."

    With a yelp and sticking his gloved hands out, awkwardly the waiter pressed his grasp to the recruiter who had a good tug. He didn’t want to cough but he was already choking from having the garment tightened, so scrambling to tug his collar- the ex-toymaker really wishes he didn’t know how to tie a tie because having a clip on would have been so much more helpful. “I-I was just making sure you weren’t telling anyone!” This brought a stop to Ren's pulling, though he wasn't about to let go of the tie either. He continued to glare at Spengler. "Telling who what?" he pried, ready to pull back if the nervous mess of a man tried to abort his confession and make a run for it. If he let himself, the waiter would have properly passed out. He could feel his blood running cold and his soul exiting his body, just barely lofting out. Shivering, he could have broken blood by now from how hard he was biting his lip. “Look, l-look, look, if-if you could just-“ eyes switching between Ren and the door, Spengler’s tone dropped to a whisper. “Please- please please let me- let me close the door I can’t- I ca-an’t-“ shaking his head, he was trying to pull away. “I’m not going to run, I s-swear. I just- I j-just need to close it, I don’t want them hearing…” It wasn’t like he was going to die but he sure felt like it. Gods, he was even shaking.

    Ren almost wanted to pull him back again, in seeing how pathetically the silver-haired one desperately begged. He didn't let go, but his grip loosened enough to where he wasn't nearly choking the guy. The recruiter said nothing, instead, he finally dropped his lit cigarette. Silence as he stepped on the piece of trash and crushed it beneath his heels. The entire time, his eyes on the waiter. Those few seconds of consideration felt like hell- they still do, it was just like salt on a wound that the burnt bud was released instead of him. “Please- w-word travels too fast in this god-forsaken hotel, I just w-want someplace qu-quiet-!” Tugging away, he almost slammed himself on the set table behind him. Spengler wasn’t about to take the time to go ‘holy moley!’ or something of that caliber. No, he didn’t even wait for Ren to respond. The recruiter was stronger, even a little taller. So whatever chance the waiter had, he’ll take it. Even if it makes him look like he’s about to bolt out. Fumbling with his broom- he skittered to the exit way and gave the wooden door stopper a kick.

    Just like any other weighted thing, it swung back slowly to its frame but- Spengler urged it to close faster, pushing, even if it didn’t help. He was sucking in breaths through his mouth while he struggled with settling the broom in a certain way where it’d be hard to turn the knob and open the door. He even gave it a try himself. “C’mon, c’mon-“ yanking the door- it only rattled. It was most likely his paranoia, but the refusing wall created a sense of security, as secure as it could get… for him. This terribly frantic behavior in Ren’s perspective was nothing but bizarre.

    Ren stared at the scrambled waiter, he would have grabbed him by the collar--forced the rest of his confession out of him one way or another after stopping him from fleeing...but- to the ex-mafia member's surprise, Spengler kept his word.

    "You could have just closed it," Ren finally said.

    “There wasn’t a lock.” Waving his hands at the door like he was casting a spell, praying for it to stay even if he made sure the broom did its second job right. Turning to face Ren, the mess of a man wore a wavering expression: it was supposed to be focused but he looked like he was about to speak at a podium, and about to piss himself properly.

    “Do…” struggling to bring his thoughts to audible words, Spengler raised a twitchy hand. “So you really don’t remember me, right?”

    There it was, another question. But one that finally led to something more to the situation, to whatever the waiter's deal would be. It had Ren finally stop and ponder, was he supposed to know who the guy was? Well, they were both hotel staff members--what kind of a question was that? It made Ren raise an eyebrow, but nothing was uttered. ”I shouldn’t- be-“ whining, the waiter shoved a hand through his hair, raking through it tensely and stuttering in his steps, he really didn’t want to get closer. “Really? Y-You don’t?” He couldn’t take it as an answer, even if Ren was saying nothing. I mean- Spengler did freshen up since he was on the streets but he’s a sore sight, it's hard to miss.

    Tugging off a glove by the middle finger, the man shoved a hand forward. “Y-You were a doctor, I know you, you know me!” Cracked, all over, lines tracing like veins. Ren's eyes shifted to Spengler's outstretched hand, even without meaning to, his gaze followed the branching cracks that covered it. It took a moment, and even then, the only thing that the dark-haired worker said was a simple-

    "Oh."

    Bare hand pointed, Spengler looked as if he were accusing someone for a crime. “Do you remember me n-now?“ High on adrenaline- he could barely feel his heartbeat bashing against his ribs when he tugged off his eyepatch. “I was- the only willing customer- to come in- even if it wasn’t like that at the start.” The air of the empty room ghosting his flesh- was an awful feeling, perhaps it was from the nerves or even failing to let himself really feel horrible, but he chuckled nervously. “Hole-y moley, amirite?” Oh- there it is.

    Ren was unaffected by the nervous jesting of the waiter, instead of a concerned reply to it or even an accompanying chuckle--Ren held the cracked hand of the other, inspecting it closer. Slightly following the lines with his thumb as he turned it a few times from palm up to palm down. "I remember," he said, his eyes settled on the hole where the other eye used to be before looking back to meet gazes. Yanking his hand back, the server held it defensively like a DVD he’d just swiped. He was disgusted and irked by the feeling of— fingers tracing those scars, too vulnerable. Spengler didn’t like that very much. He was real confused, being observed like a memory was not on the agenda today. “I’m glad we’re uh- on the same page.” Murmuring, he tugged the glove back on.

    A few steps back, it's what he wanted, he wasn’t going to be hurt again, he wasn’t going to ask again, nor was he going to be paid handsomely for it. “L-Look I had to do what I had to do, procedure or- spying. I can’t let my kid know that I went through that trouble, he can’t know it.” Shaking his head, that nest of messy white batted about with a sway. There was already too much that Von didn’t know that wasn’t said. “You can’t tell him, and I’ll do anything I can to keep it that way.”

    Ren frowned, even he couldn't tell if it was from disappointment or not--as many other little things snapped into place, he had questions surface to the front of his mind as well. And of course Spengler was going to try watching Ren whenever he possibly could, the former doctor was the reason for he only had an eye left. "Right-" the recruiter crossed his arms. "The blind one is your kid, hm?" He raised his eyebrows, "One with scars on his face?"

    “Why should I let you know?” Even if things weren’t as boiling as they once were- Spengler still felt like he had a knife angled at his throat. “You’ll just tell him. Goddess above, this-this shouldn’t have happened. You shouldn’t be in the hotel.” Nothing but misfortune, maybe the family curse extended from troubled romance and dipped into a poor sense of karma. At every opportune moment, anything was bound to go wrong- Spengler thought. Lying was frustrating, but being truthful looked like it was going to drive him up a wall.

    "Well, it seems that you shouldn't be in here either--afterall, you came into this hotel after me," Ren shot back. Who was this guy to tell him he wasn't supposed to be here? If anything, the ex-doctor seemed more content working here. He almost even smirked at recalling the detail as it gave an upper hand in the conversation. "And I know about your little mess in Boss' office when you first came here," he added, his arms still crossed.

    Lips tight, a dozen thoughts seemed to collide into each other and barely allowed itself leeway in the waiter's head. The thought that stood out the most was the acknowledgment of Ivy being the information to that one, Spengler understood that she was a higher-up and- one of the people who had to drag him out after that outburst. “First day shakes really- really does something to ya.” Shrugging, he swallowed a lump in his throat. “I wouldn’t know about you but uh, I didn’t have a choice so…” pausing, Spengler hadn’t noticed but he had taken a step forward. He hadn’t noticed that he felt a pang of irritation, the fear that festered was overpowering that annoyance but he just allowed the last part to slip out, he didn’t mean to, he even slapped both his hands over his mouth afterwards in mild horror. “Yeah, so you can shut up-“ there was a part of himself that felt satisfied for speaking so absent-mindedly, there was that part that wanted to watch that smug grin (that he didn’t even have) fall off Ren’s face. But this was not ideal.

    It wasn't clear if it angered or even startled Ren, he wouldn't show it in his expression. Not one bit. Instead, he prodded back into the mentioned detail, "You must've been a troublesome kid if you think screaming and yelling is normal for a first day." He might've told Ren already what his deal was now--but there was something else he was still holding on to. The reason was- why? Why go through all the trouble of concealing information from your child? It prickled Ren with curiosity, and if Spengler was to continue being defensive and rude...well, the ex-mafia member might have a little bit of entertainment now. It wasn't like the waiter was going to do anything else besides make a fool out of himself. And to say that now they could leave things as they were and walk out the door? No, Ren wasn't exactly satisfied.

    ”Speak for yourself, a doctor that smokes? It's contradictory. You don’t even know what I was yelling for, you don’t deserve to know that.” That khani was tucked and stored away in Boss’ office somewhere, money that was made through a procedure and money that was supposed to go to that kid. “If- if all you’re going to do is pick on me, I’ll just leave.”

    Ren finally looked away, not in embarrassment. Not in shame, either. Oh, not at all. He just couldn't stand to look at the waiter suddenly. With one hand he reached for his pack of cigarettes in the pocket of his coat. With the other he plucked out a single stick, tucking it between his lips. Oh, he knew it was pretty contradictory. He didn't care. "Alright," he reached for his lighter. Just like that, it was easy as pie. He wasn’t about to object or question it. If he was gonna be given a chance, Spengler’ll take it. He honestly could care less about the ash left behind, that wasn’t his problem, huffing, he hurried to the door but- something felt rather- incomplete. A sort of pang of sorts like clashing cymbals, he knows full well that anyone can be a liar in the hotel, himself of all people especially.

    Even if spying on Ren had occurred throughout the duration of the time post-recovery, after landing in the hotel, he hasn’t had a good enough read on Ren. The recruiter was like the spitting person of Von, nearly unreadable. Pressing his lips together, after he kicked the broom out of its hold- the waiter clicked back to Ren, quick footsteps. "Hm?" Ren hummed, with the cigarette sticking out his mouth, unlit. The lighter in his right hand. He was rather surprised to see the waiter come back so quickly, he hadn't even made it out the door. It would have been awkward for the silver-haired one to come back, just to sweep up the smothered cigarette on the floor. The recruiter expected Spengler to wait for Ren to finally leave the area before coming back to it. So clearly, something else was up. One last remark? It made him raise an eyebrow.

    Clearly he wasn’t back to clean up, I mean- if Ren had any dust on his collar maybe this would be that.

    The server took ahold of the recruiter's collar, a pristine coal-toned coat crumpled in a silken grip. By all means, Spengler was not intimidating, not one bit, when he speaks with a hover in his tone or even if he’s pulling Ren down to spare just a mere couple inches of space between the two of them. “If you ever- tell anyone- I’ll, I’ll…” Blanking, he couldn’t find it in him to fish out a proper threat, Spengler wasn’t a powerful man. Ren had Ivy by his side, he was strong and skilled, calculated and poker-faced. Spengler had no one but himself, and he needed it to be that way. He already broke the trust between himself and Von, the excruciating silence that the month after the winter festival has been eating him up.

    “That kid means the world to me, I’d do anything to keep him safe. You don’t know a damn thing about the things I’d go through.” Grip tightening, his hands began to waiver a bit, but it wasn’t from fear. ”You can dissect me again. I don’t care. Take my fingers, take my lungs, you can even take my other ear, my last kidney. But I draw the line at my son.”

    "Mmn..."  he took the cigarette away from his lips, holding it between his index and middle finger. "Oh, I see," Ren breathed out. He remained mostly unfazed even with Spengler's threat- er, more like the lack of one. The recruiter didn't do anything to tug or push away from the shaking grip of the waiter's’. Ren could only stare back, not surprise, not anger--his stare wasn't cold either. Just, unbothered. Letting go, it was like swatting away a bug. “‘M one shit dad, but y’wouldn’t get the things you’d have to go through for family.” Muttering, it was loud enough for Ren to hear but quiet enough to mumble like a low speaker’s hum. “You don’t even care.” All the while- striding back to the door.

    "Yeah, I wouldn't get it," Ren replied. He felt a knot in his throat and bit his tongue right after the comment. He turned back to attempting to light his cigarette, putting it back where it was originally before he was interrupted. Quickly reaching for his lighter. Rolling the sparkwheel down a few times, each time harder than the last--but there was no spark, no flame. He let out a few curses under his breath. Some handful more steps to the door and Spengler pulled the handle, taking the broomstick with him. “And keep that Simon away from my kid, I know that one’s yours.” And just like that? He was gone. Gone with the waning hallway light disappearing once the gate closed.

    There was a stutter in Ren's mind, did he hear that right? What did Spengler mean by that? Now it was the recruiter's turn to become frantic, he went after the other. "Hey- hey, wait-"

    Grumbling to himself, that short-lived frustration was cut short when the door swung back open. The standard of ‘pissed’ that the waiter had had instead turned into ‘pissing himself.’ Fully believing that- when Ren was calling after him, the cyclops was about to eat his words via knuckle sandwich. With his one eye shooting out of his head and- eyepatch and broom still in clutch- like a chicken, he ran for it. Spengler probably would have gotten away if it weren't for the fact that those last words had jolted Ren out of that state of...well he couldn't explain it. It wasn't exactly anger towards the waiter--it was frustration towards himself...maybe even a trickle of sadness that wanted to seep itself into the cracks of the branching irritation he felt within him.

    Ren though, quickly caught up--yanking Spengler by the back of his collar.

    An audible gag was pulled from the mildly shorter man, the kind you’d get for yanking your dog’s leash too hard. Whoops. His toe-ends were still skidding against the corridor floors. Writhing and squirming like a worm flailing to escape from being pinned to a fishing line, absentmindedly Spengler took the broom and raised it- smacking the man behind him urgently and probably missing a few times. It was like playing whack-a-mole.

    My god. The whole scene was terribly amusing...and dumb. Ren was attempting to calm down the panicking waiter. The poor recruiter's black coat was covered in dust within a few seconds of broom smacking that he was enduring. "Spengler-" Whack. "Speng-" Whack. "Spengler stop." Whack, whack whack.

    To add a layer- the man in question was hoping for the cool-as-ice scout to have at least let go of his collar. The man was practically choking himself. He was still kicking his feet too, he swore he could see Anurah if he tugged any harder- no, no wait… that's just the hallway light. For a smart man, he was being awfully stupid. Ren couldn't let the waiter go, especially not in this panicked state. Even noticing that by holding him by the collar, nothing was going to make this situation any better. He'd risk either Spengler getting away again or risk Spengler passing out...from the lack of air- and Ren would continue getting smacked with a broom.

    "For fuck's sake-" he said, swinging Spengler back and making him hit the wall, dropping the broom in the process. He pressed the white-haired waiter against the wall. "I'm trying to talk to you," Ren huffed out, a little annoyed--but finally able to hold the other's attention. Crying out, thank goodness he was hard-headed because Spengler couldn’t crack any more than he already was. “Talk with your hands? Are-Are you going to kill me now?” Rattling, although the two were just about the same height, Spengler was looking up, slightly sinking down the wall while his legs gave out. ”Goddess above.”

    Ren looked down on Spengler, almost wanting to smack some sense into him--though...that would just be following the waiter's expectations. Goodness, if the poor bastard could just shut up for one second and listen. He looked down at the shaking legs that would have made him instantly collapse if it weren't for the wall behind. "Don't make me pull you up--at this rate I'll end up destroying your shirt from all the tugging," Ren muttered, looking at the horribly wrinkled yellow dress shirt. "Just shut up and listen to me."

    “O-Okay, okay, okay, sure, uh yeah man-“ Awkwardly setting his hands on Ren’s arms for support, Spengler glanced at either end of the hallway- rather the right side since he only had one looker. It’d be terrible to be found like this but then again, a good scapegoat coming up his avenue would be perfect. White shoes skittering back, he pushed himself up. A wide eye gazing at the stern-faced man before him, looks like the broom didn’t do a number on him but he surely looked like he was in need of a feather duster. “Oh uh, sorry about that.” Ren finally sighed, hoping now that Spengler would stay still and hear what the recruiter had to say. "It doesn't matter, I'll..." he trailed off, looking away for a moment to also look down the hallway. "I'll clean up later-" Looking back at Spengler, he brought up his concerning thoughts. "But...what did you mean by that?"

    Face contorting into one of mild confusion and distress, Spengler tripped over his own thoughts. “Killing me, or…? I-I mean you could- uh- totally take a swing right now. Nobody’s looking and I’m pretty weak so- well dolls are pretty hard to hurt so you could use the door and-“ To why he was giving ideas? Nobody knows. He was just as finicky as ever, only more put together— physically at least. Ren frowned. "What? No- why would I want to kill you?" At this point any other person would have stopped being able to tell if the guy was acting stupid again or not. Ren knew, but he just sighed. ”Because I made you angry…?” Flinching like he’s about to get socked, Spengler shrunk back into his collar, if he had two eyes, the other would have been squinted nervously while his only existing one was clenched shut.

    "Well..." Ren trailed off, he gave it a thought for a second. Did he get angry? Probably, but he wasn't going to beat the shit out of them just for that. Maybe if they made things any harder...maybe- "No, I'm not going to kill you because of that. Stop panicking." That's easy for the dusty one to say. “Alright alright— th-then what did you want?” Voice squeaky and quiet, he would feel himself dwindling into a ball of crumpled paper. Spengler’s hands on Ren was barely even a hold anymore, it was like an apprehensive hover. "My...you're pathetic..." Ren muttered under his breath, but it wasn't in a tone of displeasure--it was one of a sigh.

    Weirdly, that made the man relax, opening his only eye, he blinked. ‘Oh so you’re really not going to kill me.’ It wasn’t a phrase that hurt him or really, did anything, unphased. If anything he was standing back up, better, poking Ren’s arm in a nudge. “Back ta telling me stuff I already know, oh boy.” Whistling, he continued. “Uh- the thing, what did you…?” Ren blinked. Well, that was unexpected- To think he was even contemplating having to drag the guy to sit down before he had the chance to pass out and collapse--he was struggling to even stand up properly. "Right...what you said back there, before you left."

    Quirking up a brow, the winter-kissed male released a ‘huh’, not in a questioning way but in a surprised one. “Simon? I thought that was kinda obvious. Like- you stare at him sometimes and it's hard to miss but you kind of keep an eye out for the kid.” Scratching the back of his neck, Spengler looked up like he was searching for something in the back of his head. “That and- er- my kid didn’t really say anything about you but he also talks to Simon a lot so I can piece two and two. Friends. It's not that hard.” Shrugging, it was like he forgot that he was supposed to be scared, but his quizzical side seemingly took the wheel, curiosity can really do wonders. “I mean unless you’re- stare-staring…. Oh gods, that's disgusting.” Scrunching his face up, Spengler pressed himself against the wall, shaking his head for a moment to rid that thought, wrong idea buddy.

    Ren blinked again. "Oh well Simon isn't really my kid..." He scratched the nape of his neck, avoiding his low ponytail. "He isn't my kid," he corrected and momentarily gave a small smile, just for barely a second. "I just want to keep an eye on him...make sure he doesn't get into trouble." Squinting, he didn’t want to make more assumptions than he had, but Spengler swore that Simon was his son. I mean- dark hair, the streaks- the guy thought it was genetic. “…” Feeling a little bad about what he said about Ren not really- being a good father figure, he could feel himself pale in distress. “Whoopsie.” Was a mutter, otherwise he shook his head.

    “Well- blood family or not, you still are his guardian, I don’t want him- mingling with Von. They’re getting too cushy.” Shuddering, it wasn’t because the waiter didn’t want the kid to be unhappy, they could be friends with anyone they want- it's just- the only thing wrong was that Ren was connected to the guy and that's the only thing that Von should have avoided. "Are you saying that you don't want them together?" Ren clarified, he squinted at Spengler, almost unsure if he heard that right. "I may keep an eye on Simon, me being guardian or not, but that doesn't mean I'm stopping Simon from hanging out with someone."

    Rocking his head from side to side, he reached a gloved hand up and made a balanced-wobble gesture while the other went to scratch his face. “Mmmmm. Yes and no.” He answered unsure. “Like I said, I don’t want my kid knowing. I don’t trust you, and you shouldn’t even have to even like me. So long as you watch your kid, I’m fine. I don’t know what he knows. And all I want is my son to be safe. He doesn’t need to know the things I’ve done, call me selfish- but I’m doing this so he won’t….” Sighing, he uttered. “Won’t get upset.” More upset at him than they already were. Hand sneaking down, Spengler glances away while he clutched his side, a thumb running up and down to the waist of his vest, where a kidney used to reside. Brows furrowing, the waiter caught himself staring at the floor. Jolting- he cleared his throat. “S-So yeah! Watch it-“ ‘I’m supposed to be upset, whoops.’

    By Ren's neutral expression it wasn't clear that he was a bit upset. Normally, the ex-doctor never tried to communicate any issues with Simon or Eleanor--the most he did was try keeping them out of trouble, an emphasis on 'try'. When he wasn't busy, he'd drop by and greet them. He treated them both like any other kid or young worker in the hotel. Yeah, he cared about them so much more, considering the history they all shared. "I get it. You don't want your kid knowing any of this." He jabbed a finger to the other's chest, "But why the hell are you so persistent in keeping him away from Simon? Tell that to your kid, I'm not getting in the way of Simon's friendships if it's not hurting anyone." And he puffs, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment.

    "If it makes you feel better...Simon was never allowed to see any of the clients or...other outside people--so I'm sure he's never seen you," Ren stated as he began to reach again for a cigarette to smoke, since he had dropped the previous one. "So the rest of this seems more like a problem that doesn't concern me."

    “I think that makes me feel worse.” Flexing his brow, there was a sense of concern for that performer boy in hearing a bit about his background. To be sheltered enough to not see outsiders, that surely has to be hurtful... “I dunno what would really concern you anyhow.” Sounding like a mumble to himself, he whistled. “Annnnyhow.” Shuffling, the man moved like one of those inflatable car dealership mascots that danced. “Like I said, I don’t know what he knows, and y’can’t always be so sure. I don’t even know if you’ve been lying to me or not. Just- watch your kid, I’ll watch mine…” eyeing the cigarette, there was a slight twitch in his lip from watching the recruiter brandish a new one- he shook his head.

    "I don't know how that's supposed to make you feel worse," Ren muttered as he patted his coat pockets for his lighter. He took a moment before speaking again, "And I'm not gonna repeat myself again, Simon has always been independent. Whether you like it or not, you're going to talk to him if you have a problem with him hanging around your son. As long as no one is getting hurt, I'm not shoving myself into his business."

    Sighing, the silver-haired man looked off upwards. “Yeah yeah I get it, can say the same about Von…” he heaved. Weirdly this was feeling like a parental ramble. Not responding to the last part, instead the one-eyed man fished a hand into his pocket, even with gloved fingers- he was remotely dexterous. Catching his thumb on the spur, one- two tries and there was a flame. “You dropped this earlier.” Holding the lighter out to Ren, Spengler’s solemn- yet agitated attention was fixed on the lighter’s blaze. “You two really are similar...”

    Ren almost nearly snatched the lighter from the waiter's gloved hand, realizing this--he muttered a quick apology, before the recruiter brought his gaze up to meet Spengler's again. "What makes you say that?"

    Flinching, the waiter went to fix his collar, popping it back in place and tucking his tie back into his vest. Bah, the recruiter even popped a button by accident. The frantic nature of Ren wasn’t weird, a nicotine addiction really does something to you. It was only at the remark of Ren that Spengler raised a surprised expression. It was merely just a moment of recollection but that was all it took to have him frowning deeply. “It's- it’s nothin’.” He waved away.

    Ren curiously raised an eyebrow before shifting his focus back to his lighter and cigarette. "Sure it is," Ren replied as he neared the cigarette that poked out of his mouth towards the lighter. He flicked a thumb down against the lighter's sparkwheel to start it, finally being able to light it. The recruiter almost sighed as the end of it glowed after being exposed to the flame.

    Ren let out a sigh, well in the end, he did get his answer. "Alright." And in the end, Spengler unintentionally got his message across, even if he didn’t plan on talking to Ren so soon. Then there was silence, and there was no way to fill the null that lingered in the soon-to-be smoggy atmosphere. The only thing that this conversation--if you can exactly call it that--did was give Ren what he wanted to know. Spengler still hated the guy, he didn’t hate the guy any less than he already did. This whole thing, being cornered twice just made him more uneasy around Ren. The doll didn’t want to be here so what was he to say? ‘Goodnight’? ‘Be well’? He didn’t want to say a single thing. The last thing that he uttered when he scurried down the hall was “Clean up after yourself before you get to bed” and ditched the broom with the recruiter, with a clatter. The slightly shorter of the two meant to set the broom to the wallside, though it slid and catered to the floor startlingly, enough to make Spengler stride a bit faster down the hallway, a bit more stiffly as well.