He watches Ned move the apple pie from the oven to the cooling rack, aware that he's probably hungrily staring at it, but unable to avoid it. The food around here since his arrival hasn't exactly been gourmet, maybe because neither he nor Charlie bother cooking much, or maybe just because supplies are low. Either way, there's been nothing like an apple pie. If Ned's forgiveness wasn't enough of a reason for Meyer to begin to like him, his ability to make pie is.
He smiles a little at Ned's poker comment. Maybe there's something a little smug in that smile, or maybe it's just simple amusement. "It's not really about luck," he says, "Or at least, not mostly. Some people win a lot because they're lucky, but for most people, it's a game of statistics." It probably doesn't take a genius to figure out which side of the equation Meyer falls on. He's always liked statistics and numbers, always enjoyed figuring out the most profitable solution to a problem. Luck isn't something he puts much faith in -- it's for other people, people like Charlie, who can seemingly fall headfirst into any problem and walk out the other side unscathed.
"Yeah, he runs it with me. We've been business partners for a long time." It felt funny to say that, since below the formal suit and the strange amount of poise with which Meyer seemed to hold himself, he was really very young. People tended to assume he was older, closer to Charlie's age, and he rarely corrected them.
"He's fine. It all worked out." Another man might have offered an apology for his friend, but Meyer doesn't think that's his place. Whether or not Charlie feels bad for kidnapping Ned -- and he's not sure, although he assumes he is; they haven't discussed it in any great detail -- he'll have to be the one to tell Ned himself. It would be disingenuous to deliver Charlie's apology for him, and besides, secondhand apologies rarely hold much weight. Needless to say, their shared house had been an unpleasant place for the duration of the week, and he's glad it all worked out, glad they're all back to normal.
no subject
He smiles a little at Ned's poker comment. Maybe there's something a little smug in that smile, or maybe it's just simple amusement. "It's not really about luck," he says, "Or at least, not mostly. Some people win a lot because they're lucky, but for most people, it's a game of statistics." It probably doesn't take a genius to figure out which side of the equation Meyer falls on. He's always liked statistics and numbers, always enjoyed figuring out the most profitable solution to a problem. Luck isn't something he puts much faith in -- it's for other people, people like Charlie, who can seemingly fall headfirst into any problem and walk out the other side unscathed.
"Yeah, he runs it with me. We've been business partners for a long time." It felt funny to say that, since below the formal suit and the strange amount of poise with which Meyer seemed to hold himself, he was really very young. People tended to assume he was older, closer to Charlie's age, and he rarely corrected them.
"He's fine. It all worked out." Another man might have offered an apology for his friend, but Meyer doesn't think that's his place. Whether or not Charlie feels bad for kidnapping Ned -- and he's not sure, although he assumes he is; they haven't discussed it in any great detail -- he'll have to be the one to tell Ned himself. It would be disingenuous to deliver Charlie's apology for him, and besides, secondhand apologies rarely hold much weight. Needless to say, their shared house had been an unpleasant place for the duration of the week, and he's glad it all worked out, glad they're all back to normal.