|
|
Post by Countess on Aug 16, 2024 0:49:46 GMT
Des seems completely unfazed by Wally's undressing, rooting around through drawers for some accessories for him. The she doesn't have as much as, but there are vague enough pieces she can give him that could go with anything.
"You- you aren't wearing an undershirt, of course you aren't," she says, grabbing him something that would suffice, muttering under her breath in French about uncultured Americans.
"Here- I can tie it-" Des says, not giving him a chance to mess it up. She does a simple half-Windsor, her moves practiced and perfect. Once done, she takes a step back, looking at him with that same critical eye from before. Her nose wrinkles again.
"It shall have to suffice," Des says wearily. Perhaps this is just who she is...
|
|
|
|
Post by Nomz on Aug 16, 2024 1:02:20 GMT
"Yes, ma'am." His hands fall away from the tie to make room for her far more skilled ones. Wally tries not to stare down directly at her as she makes a neat, smooth half-Windsor knot. Instead, his eyes look out at all of the articles of clothing. "If I ever need fashion advice, am I free to ask you for it?"
Wally does his best to offer her a dashing, lopsided smile as she pulls back to examine him. When her nose wrinkles instead, he can't stop it from slipping into a small, fond one. "I aim to please, Des. What's my cover story? Am I your body guard? Maybe some poor smuck who's trying to learn the ropes? Oh, am I your secretary? I can type very fast."
|
|
|
|
Post by Countess on Aug 16, 2024 1:23:03 GMT
"Of course, you silly man," Des says rather dismissively. While her words are callused, there is a small smile on her lips. She seems pleased with herself as she finishes smoothing his tie. Her eyes flick up to him, oh so briefly, then she gets back to work fixing up his coat and collar. Finally, she lets out a sigh of completion.
"Yes, I think I like personal assistant," Des murmurs, going to a mirror to make sure she, too, is presentable running as fast as they were- she is a but of a mess. Funny- she made sure he was taken care of first. It seems that is how she shows she cares, by actions, rather than words.
"The meeting is soon- so much of my time was wasted with that blasted car..." Des says, fussing over her appearance. "The meeting is with Sophia Meyer, an illustrator who needs a little pick me up from yours truly," she says, putting everything back perfectly into place.
"Think you can handle that? Don't fuck this up for me. Or do, and make it entertaining. I'm not exactly hurting for clients."
|
|
|
|
Post by Nomz on Aug 16, 2024 1:30:34 GMT
His eyes trail after her as she walks around, making sure she is cleaned up as well. This is quickly becoming a norm for him. Wally resists the urge to rub the back of his neck and possibly mess up his collar and tie. Instead, he tucks his hands into his pockets.
"Sophia Meyer. Illustrator. Needs a pick-me-up. You can count on me to keep this train on the tracks and, if we crash, I'll make sure the fire is impressive." He shifts on his feet with a goofy grin. It seems this is more his element, being just a silly little guy.
"What should I call you, ma'am? Ms. Allard? Muse? Or maybe Princess?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Countess on Aug 16, 2024 1:55:40 GMT
Des stops her work to send a glare over to Wally at the mention of Princess, but he sees a smile on her lips as she looks away. "Muse. That is my nom de guerre in my line of work. Easier for some people. If they call me Ms. Allard, then use that. Just follow the client's lead- we are going to foster comfort and ease, not make them think in any way, even small like that, that they are less than or wrong."
Des takes a breath, and everything she has done in the last few moments comes together. She looks... perfect.
"You got this?" she asks him, more concerned for him than anything. Going from helping someone with a broken down car to going with them on a meeting with a client really... it is a bit convoluted.
|
|
|
|
Post by Nomz on Aug 16, 2024 2:07:24 GMT
"I'm going to assume if the client calls you 'hot stuff', I am meant to look at them over the edges of my glasses with the most disappointed look, correct?" Wally gives an attempt with the sunglasses and it's only mostly effective. The smile that pulls at his lips ruins most of the effect. He tucks away the smile she gives to 'princess', making a mental note to keep that one in his pocket.
"With a little prep time, I can get anything done, Des. Believe it or not, I can think as fast as I can run. It should be fine. Trust me, okay?" He pulls out his most comforting tones. "We driving or taking a run?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Countess on Aug 16, 2024 2:25:48 GMT
Wally earns another hard look that is secretly amusement. "Then you and I drive them into the ground, burn whatever assets they have, and make sure their name is synonymous with Harvey Weinstein," she says, shrugging as if what she just said wasn't the most brutal, scorched earth shit that has come out of her mouth in front of him. By the look on her face, it is hard to tell if she is joking. "Walking, actually. This is New York, we have public transport. I am not letting you mess up my hair again," Des says, accompanied by her signature prim sniff. That high from before is fading for Wally, going back to the normal in her presence high. It is still good, but it isn't... as good."Come on," she says, leading him back down the many stairs. By the door, she grabs a bag, a Birkin, but she doubts he would know what that is, and heads out the door. The trek over to this meeting place really isn't that long, only a couple stops on the subway. She takes him to her offices, a little rented space that is modern and intimate. Perfect for a first meeting. "Now, we wait."
|
|
|
|
Post by swapgo on Aug 16, 2024 11:07:17 GMT
There wasn't a whole lot of waiting, if anything, it seemed like the knock that came to the door was on cue with her expectations. Regardless of what the response to it was, the person at the door would let themselves in.
Sophia Meyer, a freelancer with way too much talent and way too few expectations, a harrowingly common sight in the city if you asked them. A caucasian woman of european slant, black hair with thin bangs on both sides, and round, slightly tinted glasses which amplfied the stare she gave to the rather comfty environment. She was covered neck to toe in the most muted colors she could muster, black pants, a vaguely mauve cardigan, and she even worse full-fingered black gloves that could barely be seen before she placed her hands back on her pockets after closing the door behind her.
Sophia didn't seem happy to be here, both outwardly and inwardly, although the latter would feel...fresh, as if there was a tinge of joy that all but vanished the second she crossed the threshold, leaving behind only calculating indifference. Her gaze only grazed Wally before she gave it the widest of berths, searching for Desiree instead. She felt confrontational, although less in emnity and more in some weird form of sportsmanship.
"Ms. Allard", she requested, Muse guessed correctly. An invisible hestiation to be courteous afterwards hung over Sophia.
|
|
|
|
Post by Nomz on Aug 16, 2024 14:53:49 GMT
Wally watches comfortably from his chair, a notebook in his hands with a pen. He had taken one of the two from in front of Des' desk and shifted it closer to the windows and facing the room at large. This close, he can almost hear the city outside.
Detective Secretary West keeps his sunglasses on despite being inside and his shoulders sit straight and proper. He tries not to acknowledge the art on the wall to his left and the fact that it looks like a big silly face is smiling at him. He'll need to make sure Des sees it too. Maybe it will earn a disappointed look like his flannel did.
When there comes a knock at the door, West sits up just an inch straighter. Ms. Meyer looks like one of those classic depictions of French artists and, for a wild moment, he wonders if she meant to leave her beret at home. Wally may have been way out of his depth here, but Secretary West is an art major and spent years studying abroad. He has this. Totally.
|
|
|
|
Post by Countess on Aug 16, 2024 19:40:01 GMT
Des, immediately upon the knock, responds. "Come in," she says, and Wally would see her affectation has changed. More professional now, more approachable, too. She had felt the woman before she knocked, ready to allow this consultation to begin. There is a strange thing- where there was once happiness that now vanishes to something more... cold. Interesting. Des will have to work on that.
"Welcome, I am glad you could make it," Des says politely, standing from behind her desk, moving in front of it. "Please, sit, Ms. Meyer," she says, motioning to the sofa chairs for a more informal setting. Already this woman is on edge- she wants to put her at ease.
"You're having trouble creating. I hope to help you- but I'd like to know more about you. While I have my powers to lean on, sometimes what is stopping us isn't ourselves, but our environments. Tell me a little about yourself, your family, your day to day," Des says, then snaps at Wally- a clear indication to take notes.
Being in her presence is... uplifting. It is somewhere between a performance enhancing drug and simply... having confidence. If "Sophia" were about to be tested, there would be no anxiety, no worry, and they would perform to the absolute best of her abilities. That's the crux of Des' powers- they take the guesswork out of it all. There is no, "Did I do good enough?" or "Was that really the best?" It well.. and truly... is. It extends to all things, from the arts to the scientific.
An asset. One that could make the difference between pass and failure on crucial missions.
But- it is subtle. Not like walking outside into the heat, but dipping into a warming bath. No shock, just... ease. Even this room feels like a place that could be used to create, perfectly tailored for what they are here doing, conducive to it, even. If Sophia has any ability in knowing a telepath or psionic is probing, she would know Des is, though not aggressively. She's light, crafty, merely sampling.
|
|
|
|
Post by swapgo on Aug 16, 2024 22:18:38 GMT
Sophia took a few steps in, then halted to take in the atmosphere, she seemed elated, as if she was just granted some permission to loosen up. Somehow, her frown didn't leave her face.
"So am I, this city can make it so very difficult", Sophia followed Des' lead. Wally's read was incorrect, her accent had a hint of german tossed in for good measure. As she quickly found herself comfortable in the cushy seating, she pulled a marking pen from her pocket, balancing it deftly on her knuckles. The motion seemed practiced, and yet she still robbed herself of attention with it, before calmly placing her hand on her left knee, firmly crossed above her right leg.
"If this is your assertion then we're starting in the wrong direction. I have no trouble creating, never had, doubt I ever will", Sophia leaned her head backwards, this couldn't all be Des' doing, with all this confidence it was a miracle that she even felt the need to come here. "But I'm becoming resentful of the task as of late. I never took a liking to drawing, I'm merely good at it. My parents mistook this enthusiasm for talent, I was an obedient child, I simply did it. Caligraphy, repetition. At this point I could draw a quail and its 60 something feathers from memory", she sighed in reminiscence, birds, huh? "Not all of us can get to choose a job we like, but we make do with other things, vanishingly few things, vanishing quite quickly. My family is gone or went nuts, home is off limits becuase I could never secure a restraining order, and at this point I'm well enough off that the drive is...it's not fading away as much as it is...pushing back?", she tried to answer her own question, some inner conflict alright. They posed a puzzle.
Sophia let a lot of things go off her chest, and yet it seemed like her emotions waned backwards. They relaxed and hardened in rhythm, regressing, self-correcting. "It's not pleasant. The thing you see with your eyes closed just being...illogically infuriating".
|
|
|
|
Post by Nomz on Aug 17, 2024 13:51:13 GMT
Secretary West is perfectly calm and collected, drawing no attention to himself as he takes notes for Des upon her snapping. Honestly, this whole situation is fascinating to him. He's never been in this situation and certainly never thought he would be. West draws a line through his note about Ms. Meyer being there for a lack of motivation or trouble creating.
In the margin of the page, he draws an arrow down to a new line about it being about resentment over the task instead. It is not an uncommon issue, from what West can pull on in his history of talking to people. Many talented people are forced into a position to use their talents when their passion lies elsewhere.
West watches Des carefully, wondering how she'll take to this information. Wally's question in this type of situation is why still create. Secretary West adjusts his pen, ready for the next line.
|
|
|
|
Post by Countess on Aug 18, 2024 0:59:50 GMT
Des is no stranger to those resistant to her power, especially when it is the more low level ambient inspiration. Briefly making sure that Wally is taking notes, she dives right in.
"Then stop," Des says, and doesn't seem bothered by this in the least. There are many she has come across like Sophia, and some take Des' eventual advice and consulting helping them find what it is in the world that sparks joy. "What is stopping you from doing what makes you happy? You can choose the job you like, and it is never too late to pivot your life into a different direction if you are willing to put the work in for your personal wellbeing. You say you are well enough off- enough to try something new? To invest in yourself and your vision for yourself, rather than that of others forcing their wants on you? People, as you mentioned, are no longer a part of the picture, so to speak."
Des crosses her ankles, leaning to the side to rest her chin on her hand and elbow on the armrest of her seat. "If you hire me, the crux is this- do you want me to help you achieve success in something you resent, or something you truly want to do?"
|
|
|
|
Post by swapgo on Aug 18, 2024 3:25:46 GMT
"Right, stopping, the notoriously easy thing to do", Sophia sounded prickled, but didn't seem to feel that way.
The woman mulled over Des' suggestion, or so she looked like at least. Somehow her hands were more telling of her intentions, removing and resealing the marker's cap, all with one hand, a click and a clack, ponderous, yet focused. "What's stopping me is failure. Ms. Allard", well, that sounds self-explaining, to the point that she couldn't hold in the snicker for any longer, they felt relieved letting it out. "Cooking, photography, piano, gardening. I'd love being great at these things, maybe, but I could never choose just one, nor have I felt like trying them again. I have no memory of being bad at what I do, not even with the benefit of hindsight. I'm used to repetition, to building up memory and experience, but never to not being rewarded for it", she sketched a rather grim picture, an ontological loop of being told you do great, to the point where one would not notice mediocrity.
"Will I have to answer that question today? My schedule is notoriously clean", Sophia's eyes drifted away from Des, somehow, it felt like her attention did not.
|
|
|
|
Post by Countess on Aug 18, 2024 4:11:03 GMT
Des chuckles at the retort, and the sound is something perfected, practiced continuously to sound charitable and disarming. It’s such a stark contrast to her time with Wally, where her true colors of pompousness and ego seemed to infuse her in every action. Here she’s so… supportive. Kind. Or, so she seems. Des isn’t insulted by the client’s prickliness… in all honesty, she’s not concerned whether she gets this woman’s business or not. All of that depends on Sophia, and Des is here for the ride.
“It sounds like you’re asking for a critic,” Des offers. “If that’s what’s required of me, I can fulfill this task. Not only am I accomplished in the art of constructive criticism, I know groups and individuals you can work with to hone your work, rather than simply appeasing your feelings,” she says, head tilting so her hair falls past her shoulders.
“You can certainly take your time in answering that. Just know I can take whatever role you need in this. I’m more interested in giving you exactly what you ask me for, than playing guesswork or assumptions. Rome was not built in a day, nor was it destroyed in one. Whatever route you choose, there are clearly maladaptive elements to your approach and your environment. I want to remove those barriers for you, because I will not always be there for you to rely on. Think of me as… crutches while you heal. Too much reliance can cause poor healing and further injury.”
|
|
