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Section Editors’ Office [06/11/2010 - 07/07/2012] It isn't nearly as large as the Managing Editor's office but it's more private than the open writers' section. The desks, one for each Section Editor, are sturdier than they look and the chairs aren't so bad once you get used to the scratchy feeling underneath your thighs. Multiple neon bulbs shower light overhead for at the last minute writing.You are HERE. |
Sweet Circe! Ian wasn't kidding when he had said the Daily Prophet was getting a make over. Miss Jane Holland was prepared to do a bit of making over herself. Not on herself, no; just of her work area. She claimed a corner desk, so she'd have extra wall for sticking stuff up on, and got to work unpacking a box that was apparently charmed bottomless. From this she withdrew a terracotta pot, which contained what resembled a venus fly trap. Except it wasn't quite. It liked more than just flies and was semi-sentinent. It appeared to stretch and if it had eyes, one might assume it was looking around groggily after napping on a long distance journey. Jane placed it on the desk and then unpacked an old jam jar, empty and clean, it was filled with quills and muggle pens and pencils. An orange ribbon was tied in a bow around the top. Next came a picture of a kitty cat hanging from a branch. Just hang in there kitty cat. A few signed pictures of various wizarding world celebrity-types were added to the wall, one of which, a picture of the Keeper for the Italian Quidditch team and stunt flyer, had devil horns and other scribbles defacing it. Next went a tray marked 'in' and 'out', a folder that was completely filled up with all sorts of things, old articles, notes and researchy things, a large book containing floo and owl addresses, a wall planner went up too, several dates marked off with smiley faces, flowers, love hearts and general scribbles. Her favourite coffee cup had pride of place and a few other odd knick knacks, including a pet rock, were arranged here and there too. Soft comfy cushions went on her chair and a chalk board with cheerfully bright chalk went up on the wall behind her. Jane turned on her wizarding wireless radio and got to work fixing the curtains by the window of her desk. Pink. With polka dots. |
Daphne walked into the brand new Daily Prophet offices and ran right into the section editors' office. She couldn't believe they were getting their own area and desks. It wasn't much, but it cemented their status as superiors over the regular writers. Her high heels clicked against the polished hard wood floors. She had a box full of supplies and looked around which desk to claim. One of her coworkers, Jane, took the corner desk. Daphne grabbed a desk in the middle, that way she could be heard by everyone. She dropped her things and started to unpack her belongings. "Lovely here, isn't it?" she said nicely, removing a set of quills and placing them on the right side of her desk. "Can't believe these are our offices. I love the design. Much better than the dank old headquarters," she laughed. She grabbed a small desk calendar of famous quidditch players. Nothing better than watching those players fly in and out of the frame all day. After unpacking her box, she sat down. The chairs could be more comfortable, but she could live with it. She looked at her empty inbox and wondered how long before the owls started piling up. |
Startled by a clicking sound, Jane looked up and then instantly relaxed. It was just that nice Daphne girl. She was sweet, even though somehow she managed to make Jane feel old and frumpy simply by existing. This was ridiculous of course, Jane was only 24, getting closer and closer to a full quarter of a century every moment though. "I'm thinking of setting up an extendable ear from my desk through to the features office." You know, just to make sure they were working hard, not at all to overhear hypothetical conversations between her good friend Hunter and, you know, the boss. Ian. The one with that eyebrow that did things no eyebrow had any business doing. Not that the extendable ear would at all keep Jane informed about what Ian Hoshino's eyebrow may or may not have been doing, but she was sure she'd be able to judge it perfectly. Yes. It often went with the sneer!voice and always with the I-am-judging-you-intensely voice. "I do like the office." Jane looked around at her handiwork in her corner. Very comfy. Spying the calendar Daphne put up, Jane hoped furiously that it was a British Quidditch one and not an international Quidditch one. She did not need to see Adriano Toussaint's smirking, self satisfied face. No she did not. Glancing at the picture on her wall, she mentally amended that sentiment. She did not want to see it unless it was defaced to a satisfactory level. Nod. |
Daphne brushed her pink quill against her face. She wasn't actually sure of what to do. Now that she was placed near the other section editors, she should probably look like she was working. Jane's presence seemed to reinforce that belief. She was talking about spying on her writers. Daphne nervously chuckled at the suggestion. "I don't think I'll take that approach," she smiled, unrolling a piece of parchment and dipping her hot pink quill into the very black ink. She caught Jane peeking at her calendar. "Nice, right?" she said, turning it over to Jane to get a better view. "British All-Stars. Calendar's for this year, of course," she grinned. She loved showing her Quidditch pride for all to see. Not that she should hide it, Quidditch was part of her job. |
"I don't think I'll keep it a secret." She added, about the ears. It wasn't so much for spying as it was for being accessible. And also for spying. Jane relaxed. "British. Sure. Nice. I'm from Australia originally, so I know more about the Australian and New Zealand league and the Pacific leagues than the British one." And you know, a few stupid others. |
Daphne ogled at her neat desk. Once work really started up, it would be absolutely covered in parchment and papers. "I went to Australia once. Weather was just dreadful in Sydney. Rained our entire holiday, but I hear it can be lovely," she giggled. Reminiscing was one of her favorite pastimes. Her eyes wandered out to the hallway. "Have you checked out the rest of the office? This was my first stop, to drop off the stuff. Looks really nice. Wonder if there's anything surprising lurking in the corners. Wouldn't put it past the DP editors," she mused. The child in her wanted to explore this new and foreign area, but the adult realized she had actual work to do. |
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On the way from his office to the Section Editors' office, Ian Hoshino considered Hunter's Mum to be very wise. He wondered on what grounds it was permissible to place a silencing charm on your employees. He'd have to run that by Sienna and have her speak to the Human Resources people. "I'm coming in!" announced Ian even though he had already opened the door. "And I have a very talkative woman with me. You have been warned." |
"I'm NOT," Hunter complained, slipping in under Ian's arm and immediately taking up a corner of Jane's desk. It was her seat. And the desk didn't even slant anymore. "Merlin, I can be practically taciturn. Ask Jane. She knows me best." And it was true. Jane was a good friend to Hunter, one she was comfortable being loud and boisterous around, and one she who didn't mind the occasional bouts of sulkiness and general moody malaise. |
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"No I haven't, I thought it was better to have a base of operations set up first, then I'll hazard the coffee and take a peek in all the other offices." All of them. Every single room would soon have Jane poking her nose in and being curious about the contents and the people who inhabited the room. Quote:
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She shot a twinkling look at Hunter, "You only need to fill her mouth with food or drink and she'll be positively silent." |
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She was mildly embarrassed that she didn't know everyone in the office yet. The woman coming in looked familiar, but Daphne couldn't place a name to that face. "I'm Daphne Jones," she said to the possibly talkative woman. "Editor of the Sports section." Quote:
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Not that she didn't appreciate his company. Quote:
"Actually, the coffee is improving. And there's a much nicer sofa in there now. I recommend it." |
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She was surprised that the break room was new and improved as well. "Better coffee? That's something I'll have to taste to believe," she noted suspiciously. She should be trusting the Lifestyle editor on something like food, but Daphne rarely took the word of others at face value. "Well I think I'll go try this better coffee," she announced to the room, in case anyone wanted to come with her. |
Three years later--but here it goes The Sports Section Editor seemed to be enjoying herself. Her elation was so much she seemed positively oblivious to the fact that Ian Hoshino was her boss and well, she seemed to be doing a whole lot of not-working in his presence. He too was in a rather good mood so he let it slide. "I thought it was time our working environment received some kind of improvement," stated Ian plainly towards Daphne Jones, keeping an eye on Jane and Hunter's interactions. Hunter seemed to be under the impression that Ian enjoyed spending money needlessly. Brushing the tip of his nose with the back of his hand, Hoshino raised one brow. "You should be happy you had anything at all to eat. There are starving children in the world, Hunter Bones. They'd kill a wild gazelle for some mystery stew." When Daphne announced her plans, Ian stepped aside, unbuttoning and buttoning his blazer habitually. "You should while you still can. I'm about to announce the new deadlines." Leisure time would soon end abruptly if Hoshino had any say over it. |
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She settled into her spot and started prepping for the next deadline. As always, she would dedicate most of her time for the next issue until it was released. Oh well, the mini holiday was fun while it lasted. |
NEW SCENE: Enter Plymouth Glen Morgan for one Jane err Holland hehe Plymouth peeked into the Editor-y type office. He tried to keep out when others were working, but sometimes... the front desk just couldn't keep his attention. He'd frequented Hunter's office, and a few of the other more friendly sort, but it'd been ages since he'd been poked into this office. They were due. Ahem. Armed with a decoy stack of parchment, Plymouth moseyed the rest of the way into the office. "Hehe." When Miss Jane was out of the office, he liked to leave her "pet rock" little things to "eat" - so he headed that way first. Plus, she had a plant and all and Plymouth was just drawn to it. "Good morning, Miss Jane!" he called before rolling a chair over to sit RIGHT next to her. His finger was already creeeeeeeeping towards the venus fly trap. |
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Jane's expression was all dreamy. The embarassing kind where its kind of obvious you're thinking inappropriate thoughts about someone. In this case, it was the most recent of Jane's interview subjects. I mean rawr, have you SEEN the guy? Those eyes, that smile, that BODY. She jumped at the greeting and flushed red. "Oh!" And obviously, she recovered. "Plymouth, sweetie. How are you?" It was easier, in Jane's mind, to treat Mr Plymouth Morgan as a child. He was quite obviously an attractive man, and yet there was something breakable about him, something that Jane identified with and felt the instinctive need to make sure he was okay and nobody messed with him in the ways she herself felt she'd been messed with. Speaking of which, she caught his finger and diverted it gently away from her plant. Dangerous plant. |
"Hehe, it wouldn't bite, you know. We're pals," Plymouth put his hand back down at her coaxing though. If she didn't want him touching her plant, he'd refrain (until she was out of the office, anyway). "I'm bored to tears. Real tears. You ever seen a MAN cry?" His chair scooted as his arm was not quiiiiiite long enough to reach across to the rock. He wasn't going to pet it yeeeeet, but just getting in the right position to. |
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"Just be careful, Plymouth. "He likes blood and I think he's teething." Insofar as man-eating magical plants could actually teethe. Jane eyed the stack of parchment that Plymouth had brought in with him. "I haven't. Most of the men I have the misfortune of associating with," And here she glanced at a particular defaced picture on her wall, "Happen to be insensitive jerks." Her eyes went back to the parchment stack. "Is any of that for me?" |
Clearly, Jane Holland was unawares that her secretary's thumb was GREENEST of the greens. He let it go though. She had a rock and a plant and funny pictures and almost always made Plymouth smile. He too, though maybe less aware of it, had protective sort of feelings for Miss Holland. "Well.... if something doesn't happen around here soon, you might just see THIS man cry real man!tears." Except, well, not. Plymouth wasn't a crier. "Hehe. No, no. Well, yes, but no." Plymouth eased the back of his chair around so he'd be side by side with Jane and so she'd have a good view of his stack of papers. Plymouth thumbed through them and straightened his stack -- then FLIPPED through them QUICKLY. On each page was a little stick figure that Plymouth had drawn over and over. He'd made a flip book, a cartoon. It was his morning usual. "Hehe! I call him Gary!" The stick figure, that is. "Dance, Gary, dance!" HEHEHE |
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She eyed up the stack curiously and then let out a little "Oh!" In surprise. Jane laughed, delighted, and leaned forward to get a closer look at Gary. Her mess of curly, unruly blonde hair getting in her way to the point where she used one hand to push the mass of it back out of her eyes, holding it up on her head, painted fingernails just visible where her fingers raked the entire delightful mess of it back. |
Underneath all the grins and goofy and HEHE's, Plymouth Morgan was a boy. This whole hair thing during the Gary Show was immensely distracting. His eyes wandered up to her nails, and he got a distinct whiff of shampoo. Poor Gary never got to finish his show, Plymouth having went slack in his page flipping. ".... I hate when girls cry...." .............. fact? Plymouth LIKED that her hair was a little messy. His was too most of the time. How people kept TIDY hair was beyond him. ".... hehe." |
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"....hehe." She agreed quite solemnly and then.... her hand. It was stuck. In her hair. Jane flushed and tried to be discreet at getting her hand free. |
"You're not. You're not at all, actually. If you want a pathetic mess though...," Plymouth could introduce her to one. Or, re-introduce as they were already acquainted and sitting together at her desk. ... "Hehe. Miss Jane. Is your...," Plymouth pointed up at her hand. ".... stuck there?" It was, wasn't it? "I made an indian headdress for Miss Bones once." Plymouth stood up and hovered over her head to get a look at the entanglement. " I got it stuck in my hair and she had to cut me out of it." True story. SO embarrassing. It had taken Plymouth a long time to revisit with Miss Bones after that. |
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"Oh but I am." Jane insisted. Tug. "I'm lonely and ridiculous." Tug. "And not one of the men I've been in a relationship with has been any bit good for me." Tug. "But because I'm so ridiculous I keep finding myself in the same messes." Tuuuuuug. And any of the legitimate, good types who Jane found herself attracted to, recognised that tragic element to her make up and stayed well away. ... .... .... She went red. Tomato blush red. "It... its a bit stuck." Jane agreed, eyebrows shooting up at the little story. She made a mental note to ask Hun.... no. Better not to. Hunter would immediately want to know WHY Jane wanted to know and jump to inappropriate conclusions that'd just make Jane feel even more ridiculous and awkward. So. Normal sort of thing then. "I'm not so good at regrowing charms." Or... any charms. Lets face it. Jane's wand wasn't used with all that much frequency. "Don't cut it. Please." Besides. Her hair wasn't knotty. It was just that the curls were so very.... curly. Life and mind of their own. |
Plymouth touched his flat palm to her hair, giving her a little pat-pat-pat. "You sound ... not unlike me." Lonely. Really lonely. Lonely a LOT. Everyone close to him getting MARRIED and being HAPPY. There was something in her little speech that made Plymouth doubletake, but.... well, no time to dwell or empathize. He had a hand to liberate! "Hmmm." Plymouth invaded her space a bit more, getting his eyes down level with the imprisoned hand. "Hehe. Miss Jane. I won't cut your hair. Wouldn't think of it. Why... your hair is sort of ALIVE. You know?" She follow? Like, it had a mind of its own? Cutting it would HURT it. No thank you. No, instead he pulled a clump of the blond mess and poked at her hand. He twisted around her chair, poking and prodding and pulling as gently as he could. "Maybe your hair learned from your flytrap plant. You know, hehe, how to eat fingers. I should have saved you, like you saved me." |
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"I know. Its like Medusa." She agreed glumly. "I'm a gorgon." She totally turned men frigid, like stone, just at a glance. Except for one Plymouth Morgan apparently. "What would a secretary be without his fingers?" Jane asked. "I had to save you." |
"Why does that sound impossible?" Plymouth asked, tugging with a little more GRUNT to free her hand. Though, hehe, he was sort of having fun. Felt useful. And her hair smelled good and was that pretty blond color. He wasn't in a REAL rush and this was the best thing that had happened all day so far! "Can't do much writing without fingers either. Though, hehe, if your hair did eat your fingers I'd volunteer to be your scribe person. And I'd feed your rock and your plant for you." Plymouth Morgan? He'd take care of a fingerless Jane at work! Sure would! "You're more of a .... an accidental jester." Again, not unlike Plymouth. |
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"Do you own a mirror? Taken a look at yourself lately? You're quite the... err... attractive young man?" Why was that a question? Awkward. Awkward. She was NOT perving on him. She wasn't. Much. Sigh. She wasn't going to remind him that a quick quotes quill was about all she'd need, and generally wasn't going to allow her imagination to take flight and wonder what other things she might, if she were fingerless, employ someone like Plymouth Morgan to do. "...you'd feed my rock?" And click. Jane suddenly realised where all the random food that had been placed (quite obviously now she thought about it) in... reach? of the rock on her desk more than a few times, had actually come from. A jester? By accident? Sigh. "I suppose I am." And she'd look terrible wearing motley too. |
Mirror? Attractive young man? Plymouth freed the last of her fingers and gently put her hand onto her desk. He left it there and then returned to his seat, where he sent her bewildered looks. "You think I'm cute and because of that... I can't be like you...?" Plymouth slowly was putting the pieces together, "because you think you're not... attractive or whatever?" Bewildered. Plymouth was bewildered x 2984. "I'd feed your rock, Jester Jane." ......"I already have a few times. Hehe. The food is ALWAYS gone when I come back too." MMHMMM. Sure was. |
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"Its not that I don't think I'm.... its just that..." Ahem. "I'm different. From a lot of the... women around here." She gestured around, meaning.... Diagon Alley. The Wizarding World. "I just have a few more reasons to be pathetic and desperate than you do." Thats all. Thats all. Hem. "You could just go out there and pick up any woman you wanted to, I'm sure." Facepalm. Yeah. Yeah the food was gone. In Jane's belly. She pressed one hand to her stomach and sighed. "Thats... thoughtful of you, Plymouth Morgan." She said weakly. |
"Hehe." Plymouth's eyes rose above Jane's face to the.... hair that defied gravity. It was sort of great. Plymouth had mad urges to touch it. Or well, touch it again. Hehe. "You are different... but different is good. Different is better, even." Temptation won. Plymouth reached up and ran his palm over the frazzled ends of her upstanding hairs. HEHE "You are giving me far, far, far too much credit. You know my last girlfriend broke up with me ... because she needed space? And the one before that was in love with my brother. And the girl I probably should have been with all along, my best friend Evolette McKenna, I let her slip through my fingers... She'll be married soon. I'm her Man of Honor." This was all relevant somehow. |
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"You have an interesting way of looking at things, Plymouth Morgan." Jane answered. Puzzling young man, this Plymouth. Jane was used to feeling out of her depth, feeling insignificant and unequal, and while it wasn't like she felt she had the upper hand or anything in the developing friendship with the Daily Prophet secretary, she did feel a little bit more... more. On the level or something. And now he was playing with her hair. Jane let him, figuring it was easier to pretend like he wasn't and that he'd sort of earned it having had freed her hand moments ago. "Space?" Jane considered this. She wasn't quite sure what it meant. Her expression gave her thoughts away. The other two confessions were no less puzzling to Jane Holland. She sighed and reached out her hand to pat Plymouth on the shoulder. "Its been a few years since I..." Jane trailed off and shot a half-hearted sort of glare at the Quidditch poster. She'd be less bothered, she was sure, if he hadn't turned out to be so... so... oddly nice about everything. How was that fair? It was like it took away her right to be angry about it all. It simply underscored that whole pathetic thing that Jane was currently sure she embodied. "Anyway, none of that changes my opinion. If you were so inclined, I bet you could walk out on the street and pick someone up right away. And probably a good sort too." Jane's good sort catching abilities were.... nil. |
"Is interesting the nice way of saying wrong?" Plymouth deflated a little. Ah well. He pulled his hand back from her hair and lounged back properly into his chair. SHRUG. "Space." He still missed her something fierce. His Daphne. She seemed happy though, so... yeah. Plymouth followed her gaze to the poster, then .... "hehe." Not quite able to stay in his seat, Plymouth was up again and around her chair to get a better look at the poster. "I never noticed before. This is Cel's brother, though. First girlfriend, the one that is marrying my brother. Stepbrother." See? Everyone getting married? "Hehe. You made him look better. I like it. He probably deserves it, too." In fact, a family portrait... Nah. Nah. Plymouth shook those ugly thoughts out. He didn't REALLY mean them. "Hmmmmm," to her proposal. Hmmmmm. She was probably right. He probably could. "Getting doesn't seem to be the problem. It's the keeping part that is tricky." |
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"No its just, in my experience, not always true. It'd be nice if it was. And its nice to know its true for someone. So not wrong, just... I wish it were always right. So Interesting." Jane explained herself. Not wrong. She was just a big ol' skeptic. "I think I've had enough space for a lifetime." Jane commented, her tone sympathetic. She also took up a fair amount of it, so probably her quota got filled up earlier too. STARE. "You... a Toussaint? too?" Sigh. "And marrying your brother?" How did something like that come about? Sigh. "The thing is... ugh. He was actually... so... nice about everything. He never made me any promises and honestly he did a lot for my confidence." Not that you could tell right now... sigh. "He fell in love with some Holyhead Harpies player, and they eloped." And for Adriano Toussaint? That was still a miracle. No matter what way you looked at it. It was just... not the miracle Jane had secretly and stupidly daydreamed about. She smiled softly. "Well. You're right about that part. Getting isn't keeping and the ones you get aren't... always the ones you want to keep either. Or the ones that... want to keep you." She let out another sigh and it was so gusty that it caused her hair to poof out in front of her face. |
Plymouth studied the poster for another minute, stuck his tongue out at the less manicured-looking Toussaint, and returned to his seat. Once there, he flashed Miss Jane a wicked grin. She was speaking... logic? Or something? at him. It made him feel very Ravenclaw-y and he always DID like feeling Ravenclaw-y. "Agreed. It's like...," Plymouth held his arms out and WAVED them around, only knocking a FEW things off her desk," I have ALL THIS ROOM. Why am I always in it alone? It doesn't make sense. It feels greedy. I like to share." True story, Plymouth Glen sure DID like to share. He settled back in for the Toussaint discussion. He just nodded.Yep. Toussaint, too. Oh, nod nod nod nod. He knew that, too, about the elopement. When his MOTHER got wind of that, she just GUSHED and GUSHED about how romantic it was and made Celandine give her details. Plymouth hadn't put a whole lot of thought into it then, but NOW knowing that Jane was SCORNED - well. It made him mad. "I know her, too. My friend Tobi's older sister. We watched her practice once. She wasn't nearly as nice as you are." "I think you're better without that family. I am, too. They're snobs and they're mean - but they do it in the NICEST way," like how Jane was saying. Sigh. Just... she WAS better off, but he knew how she felt sort of. The heart wants what the heart wants. "My heart doesn't want the girls out there." It wanted a little blond in a flat not so very far away. |
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"I think people need their circles to overlap." Like so. She moved her hands together so that a part of each 'circle' overlapped the other, making an oval sort of shape where both of the rings shaped by her fingers had combined. She looked down at her hands thoughtfully. "Maybe... your girlfriend felt like it was overlapping too much?" She moved her hands together so it became one circle. "I think perhaps.... sharing the same circle makes it harder to share yourself with anyone else. Friends and family and all. Thats why you need to overlap only a bit. More with someone you love of course, but some space shouldn't be shared by more than one... I don't make much sense do I?" She smiled apologetically and then looked at her hands, suddenly panicked. "I didn't mean... this... your circle and... you know... mine. Hypothetical. Hypothetical." Facepalm. "Well." Shrug. "I wasn't the only one. I just think.... I like to think, and he did say so, that he cared about me a little more than..." sigh "All the others that I didn't know about at the time." Would she take it back? No. No she wouldn't. "I wouldn't take it back." She felt the need to say it. "I don't know what my heart wants. Just.... someone. Something." Shrugggggg. |
"You think I took over her circle??" Plymouth asked, the horror leaking out in his voice. It made sense and all, particularly how Daphne had wanted him to leave her apartment and all, but... Plymouth wouldn't have ever wanted to take over her CIRCLE. Daphne WOULD have a circle, too, and Plymouth probably came along and made her circle all lopsided and wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. He was too busy having visions of Daphne's lumpy Plymouth-tainted circle to really catch the awkward. He sent an encouraging sort of smile at her all the same. He got it. Hypothetical. What? "hehe...." ??? Others? The others? Plural? UHmmmm. That was bad, and Plymouth's horror returned once more. At least he was nice about it....? But if she wouldn't take it back, then it couldn't have been all that bad. Plymouth smiled again for her. "Maybe your heart would be interested in going for a walk after work? Not like ... you know...this," Plymouth held up two interlapping circles, "but more like..." he put his finger-circles up to his eyes and looked at Jane through them, "this. We'll let our hearts look at stuff. Hehe." Or just walk and not go home and have icecream. |
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"Maybe a little bit." Jane mused apologetically. "A little space. Not too much space. Don't you like doing your own thing sometimes? Like... I like reading my favourite books out in the park under a shady tree, or eating a popsicle on the beach and getting just a bit too sticky and sandy but having a bit of a moment for my thoughts to come out without interruption." The rest of the time she'd like her circle to be shared though. Overlapping. Jane laughed ruefully, blushing like an idiot but thankful that Mr Plymouth Morgan seemed oblivious to her idiocy. "That sounds fantastic." She held her own finger-circles up to peer through at him. |
Plymouth sagged. Even Jane thought he took up too much space... and she didn't even KNOW Daphne Hopton. Or, well, he assumed not anyway. He was a walking, talking circle wrecker. Disaster. Meh. But at least he had something to do after work. "I won't touch your circle. My circle," Plymouth drew one around him. "Your circle." Plymouth stood and drew one around Jane's head. "So after work then. Maybe you should do some work now, then? I'll... you know. Get out of your circle. I'll wait for you up front at my desk." |
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"Oh... don't be sad. What did I say? I'm sorry. I shouldn't try to help. I'm terrible at being sympathetic." Even though Jane was genuinely trying to empathize. Fail, Jane. Fail. She laughed gently because it felt like she was supposed to. Fill in the gaps where her awkward would usually go. "Sounds like a good idea. I do have a few letters to write." And technically, as an editor, she probably should lead by example and get those necessary things done. "I'll see you at knock off time." She told him. Sigh. Hopefully she wouldn't accidentally make him feel horrible later too. |
Plymouth shook his head, his smile a ghost of the usual one, but a smile on his face all the same. "Don't worry about it. It's fine." Shrug. He reached over and patted her gravity-defying hair once more. Pat. Pat. And with that, Plymouth left to go back to his desk and wait the rest of the day out. |
Daphne strolled in and set her belongings down on her desk. She groaned as she saw the pile of letters in her "IN" box. She had thought she could have a pretty uneventful day, but it was fast becoming clear that things in the sporting world wouldn't afford her that luxury. "Hi, everyone!" she said as cheerfully as possible. If she needed to be here for a long while, at the very least she'd try to have some nice conversation. |
As neat as Hunter tried to keep herself, it was impossible not to get a bit ink smudged when she was working. She sighed over the ink on her fingers and shoved back her auburn curls before plunging back into the editing work she had planned for the day. Maybe Plymouth could be enticed to bring her a cuppa and donut. |
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"Hunter." Errr..... Plymouth forgot to knock. He pretended to NOT have just stuck his face through the door and retreated. Then knocked. "Hunter." He let himself in, peeked back out in the hallway, then shut the door. |
"Plymouth!" She nearly shouted at him in her absolute RELIEF to be interrupted. Thank GOODNESS. Hunter spun in her chair and gave him a big grin. "Just the one I wanted to see. How much do you want me to pay you to bring me coffee and a donut?" |
How much? Didn't Plymouth do that for free? "Hehe. You know I won't take your money." But he would go get her coffee and a donut soon. Probably from Paris. GRIN. "But I do have a surprise for you. Are you familiar with a ... Mr. Andrei?" HMMMM??? |
"Andrei?" Hunter was much more interested in that donut than she was in whatever it was Plymouth had dropped by to say to her, and she tried to refocus on him. Oh. The one who ruined her date with moody Damien. "Did he try to pick a fight with you?" |
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Plymouth frowned and crossed his arms. THAT wasn't the response he was looking for. "He didn't... but he's looking for you. Want me to go tell him you're busy? Married? Incurable face ulcers?" |
"Ulcers?" She touched her face, leaving a red ink fingerprint on her chin, but otherwise clear of any weeping face wounds. "Merlin, you're a horrifying child, Plymouth. My self esteem can barely stand it." Hunter tossed her quill onto the desk top. "Did he bring flowers or chocolates with him? It's important." |
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Plymouth reflected horror when she called him as much. He hadn't MEANT....she had actual ulcers. Just an excuse. "....I don't think so. I didn't see any. Do you want me to go look again? Or ask? I can send him away...." Plymouth offered again. |
"No, you can bring him back. I must have won him over with my charming personality," Hunter drawled sarcastically, although she blew kisses at Plymouth to let him know she was still a big fan of HIM. Always of him. "A girl has to take her callers when they come." |
Plymouth flushed. Hunter was forever making him feel like.... his neck might set fire or something. She was crazy. Naturally, he adored her. "Callers," Plymouth grinned. "Is that what you call 'em? Don't let Mrs. Sierra know you take callers at work." In fact, Plymouth peaked out of Hunter's office door to make SURE the evil (yet oh my Merlin gorgeous) witch that was his boss wasn't out... patrolling the halls looking for him. "I'll get him. Hehe." Plymouth sneaked down the hall on tippy toes, back out to his desk where some CALLER was waiting. |
Fourth door on the right. Hopefully this was the right one. Ryuu knocked on door and waited for a response. |
Hunter continued to lean back in her chair and eye the door with some amount of suspicion, so when there was a knock... she was ready. "Enter, please." |
As soon as he heard her invitation for him to enter, he opened the door and did so. "Ooh, professional voice. Rather intimidating, if I may say so," Ryuu grinned, closing the door behind him. He then held up the flowers and chocolates. "As you requested." |
"You remembered," Hunter smiled at the gifts and launched herself from her chair in his direction. It wasn't that she was easily wooed by trinkets, but she liked that he remembered what she'd said and arrived accordingly. "Plymouth didn't know. And I thought you might be here to pick a fight with him, poor little lamb." |
"That kid?" He raised an eyebrow and jabbed a thumb behind him. Front desk guy? "Even if I did, I don't think it's physically possible to pick a fight with him. I like him. He's totally cool." He returned her smile and held them out for her to take. "Now, I know absolutely nothing about you. So, the box of chocolates are a mixture of milk, white, and dark chocolates. And I opted with various colourful flowers, instead of a specific type. Plus, it is winter and I figured a little colour wouldn't hurt." |
"That kid is an absolute doll baby above all others in this office," Hunter circled her desk to look for something to put the flowers into in lieu of a vase. She dumped quills from the cup and stuck the bouquet into it. "I like most flowers and anything sweet, so you're safe," she seated herself again and gestured for him to pull up a chair. "Any luck finding a job?" |
He grinned and took the seat across the desk from her, observing the bouquet with pride. Yeaaah. He did a good job and was totally patting himself on the back for it. Oh, job. "No, no luck," Ryuu answered, shaking his head. "I just got back from Romania the other day. I had to go get some more of my items...and my dogs. Ran into a slight delay." Like a full moon. "No big deal." He was starting to hope that he didn't sound like a total slacker to Hunter. |
"No big deal?" Hunter had her dream job and two (occasionally three) roommates, and she was still dirt poor. Tolliver and Roscoe barely contributed, and they ate take away every night, but still... "You're not here looking for a job, are you? Because I can't hire you, no matter what you buy me." |
Ryuu shook his head, grinning in amusement. "No no. I don't think that the reporter world is for me. Besides, even if I was. Why can't you?" |
"I'm a section editor. I don't do any hiring," Hunter gave him a skeptical look. "But if you want to submit a story, I might be willing to scribble on it with red ink." The same red ink she had all over her face. |
"Good point." He laughed and scratched his chin, feeling slightly awkward. Duh. He should have know that that was the reason! He could be dense sometimes... "Like I said, the reporting world and I weren't made to be. I'll stick to reading your stuff." He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands neatly together in his lap. "Speaking of red ink...I think you have a spot of it. On your chin." He pointed to the spot on his chin, showing where it would be on her. |
Ugh, embarrassing. She rubbed at her chin without much improvement. "You read my stuff, huh? That's endearing. Do you buy the whole paper just to read what was written by Hunter Bones?" She grabbed the mug and tried to find her reflection in it. |
Ryuu grinned. "Not...exactly. More like I distracted people in coffee shops long enough to sneak their paper away from them. Think what you will," he added, holding his hands up as if about to present a logical reason for it, but it never came. "I did buy two or three, though." He watched her as she examined herself in her mug. Err. "Do you want a hand?" |
"That's my circulation you're pushing down," Hunter griped lightly, her eyes still searching for red ink in the ridiculous version of a reflection in the mug. She gave up and spun in her seat. "Did I get all the ink off my face?" |
"My apologies," he smiled sincerely, slipping a hand into his pocket and retrieving a white handkerchief. "I shall make a better effort at paying for the paper...here, there's just a little more." He leaned forward a bit and reached towards her. "Excuse me," he then grinned and wiped the last of the ink off. "There. Should do it." |
"You're a gentleman," Hunter threw her mug back on the desk and gave her hair a little toss. Although he'd let her be all inky for quite a while, so he only got half credit for the handkerchief. "So what's next for you?" |
He settled back in his seat and stowed the handkerchief back into his cloak pocket. "I don't know really. There's so much to do, that I have no clue where to start. I guess finding a job would be a good start," he grinned and shrugging his shoulders a little. "What about you? How are you and that...lover boy of yours doing?" |
"Without a job, you have trouble with pesky things like rent and paying to eat," Hunter offered helpfully. She would wait tables or work as a shop girl to keep herself clothed and fed, but she was lucky enough to do something she really loved. "Damien? Let's say... he hasn't owled since you broke up our date." |
"Why rent when you can own," he offered, grinning as he folded his hands together again and settled then back in his lap. "I really am sorry about that. Breaking up your date, I mean." Not really, but shh. "That's his loss, then. Which is a shame...you two seemed lovely together." |
"If you can't afford to rent, then you certainly can't afford to own," Hunter pulled a face at his flip attitude. He was probably homeless, but she wasn't going to offer him a couch or even a square of her floor to sleep on. Too many freeloaders in her life already. "You seem all broken up about it for sure," she responded wryly. Clearly. "If he was looking for a girl without a bit of drama in her life, then he shouldn't ask a journalist out. And if he doesn't like me talking to other people, then he was going to be disappointed eventually. Again... journalist. It's what I do for a living." |
Ryuu raised an eyebrow and nodded his head a couple times before suddenly shrugging. "Well, then I guess it is a good thing that I can do both. I do prefer to own, though." Like his new loft. Such a pretty loft. Aaall his. He found himself grinning again at her sarcasm. "I agree. Frankly, I would hope that my significant other was social." |
"Well, you've proven yourself to be social. Damien is social too, though. I don't know." Hunter didn't really want to discuss the failure of this relationship to materialize, because it led to the failure of other relationships, some that had materialized but never gone anywhere and some that had outright failed. She just wasn't very good at that sort of thing. "You'll have to let me know when you land on your feet. We'll go out and celebrate." |
Ryuu shrugged again. "No sense in fretting over him, I guess." It could be tiring and a general thorn in the side. He knew quite a bit about those. "I will, on the condition that you owl me sometime so that we can go out for absolutely no reason what so ever, other than to have a good time, of course." It was a reasonable request, wasn't it? |
"I don't fret," Hunter protested with a pretty pout. Some girls flitted around and acted like stuff happened to them all the time, but Hunter was a doer. She got stuff done. "And I suppose that's fair. You want me to ask you out on date, huh?" |
"Not necessarily," Ryuu chuckled, busying himself by fixing the collar on his cloak. "Merely extending an invitation back to you in the event that you may want someone to hang out with." He seemed pleased with his simple answer and really hoped that he had found a friend in Hunter. He wasn't the lone wolf type, pun intended and all. "What's your next piece going to be about?" |
"Now that would be telling. I don't want to spoil my audience," Hunter fiddled with a loose bud on her flowers before pulling it off completely. She sniffed gingerly and offered it back to Ryuu. "But I'll send you an advance copy because I like that you asked." |
"Really? That is very kind of you," he smiled brightly, accepting the piece of the flower from her. "I'm looking forward to reading it." He then grinned and twiddled with the piece between his fingers. "You know, if you ever have a Romanian story and need some to help, I'm your man," he laughed. |
"That's fair," Hunter nodded. If she ever needed an expert on Romania, she would certainly give him a nudge. Not that she could imagine what that story might be, but she wouldn't rule it out. Always good to have a friendly source. "You're not a vampire, are you?" She was distracted from her question by a hubbub coming from the break room. Hmm... where was Plymouth with her coffee and donut? |
Ryuu stopped in his fiddling to look at Hunter. Err. "Last time I checked...no," he answered carefully. "Why? Do I look like a vampire to you?" He really hoped he looked like a normal person to her. |
"You haven't been salivating over my wrists or anything remotely creepy, so I would say... no. But Romania has a sort of dark undercurrent when you think of it, so..." She shrugged. No story here. "I ought to get back to work. I'll owl you?" |
Right. Time to go. "Yeah, sure, that'd be nice," he nodded, starting to pull his cloak together around him and then standing up. "I'll be sure to send you one sometime too. Enjoy the flowers and chocolates." |
Ugh. He was sweet. Hunter swung off her chair and gave him a brief, slighly awkward hug. "Um. You too. Nice to see you again? No, not really a question. It is nice to see you again, but I feel ungrateful for kicking you out of my office when you brought me gifts, only... it's my office, and I have work to do." But yeah... she was saying lots of things. Sigh. "I'll owl you." |
Ryuu laughed as they shared , albeit a bit awkward, a hug. "Don't feel ungrateful, Hunter. Like you say, you have work to do and this IS your office." He took a moment to chuckle to himself as he did up the buttons. "I can't wait for it," he responded to her saying she'd owl. "Until then...adio*." With a wink her way, he turned and exited her office. * adio = farewell |
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