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rainbowfic2012-07-10 11:18 pm
bookblather) wrote in rainbowfic2012-07-10 11:18 pm
Brown 2: Sometimes Opportunities Call
Author: Kat
Title: Sometimes Opportunities Call
Story: Huge Scary New Story
Colors: Brown 2 (brown someone off).
Supplies and Materials: Brush (sciential), oils (opposing forces), stain ("An idealist is a person who helps other people to be prosperous." - Henry Ford), modeling clay (sweet), yarn (this video, which made me cry), beading wire (this picture), glitter (affair), glue ("You really don't have much patience since everything seems to take longer than it should."), pastels (face), novelty beads (Binding).
Word Count: 791.
Rating: PG.
Summary: Miranda gets asked out.
Warnings: none
Notes:
This fucking day.
If Miranda hadn't had a stake in appearing perfectly put together at all times, she would have run her hands through her hair. She was considering killing someone-- she was fairly sure she could do that without disarranging her clothes-- but that would damage her cool professional air.
She pressed the tips of her fingers lightly against her brow, just for a moment, then went back to editing the contract that one of her underlings was supposed to have finished two weeks ago. This on top of a client negotiation that had to be handled by her since her mother was conveniently unavailable, and that escrow mess for Sanotech that she'd been trying to straighten out for two months now. If they'd only pay their damned deposit... but no, they were above all that nonsense and they relied on her to get their assets back to them.
Bastards. She was tempted to fail deliberately.
But alas, that was not what they paid her for, and by they, she meant of course her parents. Miranda sighed, and returned her attention to the contract, highlighting another problematic clause. The underling who wrote this would be pilloried.
Naturally, just then her phone buzzed.
She stared at it with loathing for a moment. It could be one of her parents, or perhaps Charlotte-- not Jackson, since he would have used her cell phone-- but it was far more likely another client or worse yet, Sanotech, and she did not have the patience to deal with them right now.
Well, she could tell her assistant that she wasn't in. She sighed again and picked up the phone. "Yes?"
"Ms. Hennessy." Her assistant sounded tired and a little stretched thin-- he'd need a vacation soon, she thought, and noted it quickly on her desktop calendar. "There's a gentleman on the line for you, a Mr. Edleson?"
She blinked, and tapped one finger rapidly on the counter. Peter Edleson's negotiations had been over for nearly two weeks. Curiosity overtook common sense and she said, "All right, I'll take it."
Her assistant didn't bother to say anything more; there was just the click of the line transferring over. Miranda put on her most professional tone. "Miranda Hennessy."
"Ms. Hennessy?" And that was definitely him, not someone using his name to get to her private office. There was no mistaking the warm baritone, or the soft shy smile she could actually hear. "I'm glad I caught you."
She didn't realize she was smiling until that made it drop off her face. "Yes, well, I'll probably be here late tonight." And every night for the past week. Not that she would mention that.
"I'm sorry to hear that," and he really did sound sorry. How strange.
She hummed noncommittally and asked, "Is there anything I can help you with, Mr. Edleson?"
There was a pause, a brief, embarrassed one, then he said, "Actually, I was hoping... um. I was wondering if maybe you had this Friday free. There's a club I know where they sponsor swing dancing on Friday nights, and..."
Miranda pulled the phone away from her ear and blinked at it for a moment, then put it back to her ear and, without waiting to see if he was still speaking, said, "I'm sorry, are you asking me out?"
Another embarrassed silence; he'd be coloring faintly pink along his cheekbones, and it bothered her that she knew that. "Yes?"
Well, that was plainly ridiculous. Miranda did not date, and when she had dated, it hadn't been people like Peter Edleson. She'd always liked people like her, people who understood that work came first, her family second. Polished people, professional people, not a scruffy nonprofit head who wore tweed, for God's sake.
"Yes," she said. "I'm free on Friday. "
The next silence was a stunned one.
Miranda didn't know what he was thinking, but she could not believe that had just come out of her mouth. And how exactly was she supposed to take it back now? She had to, she couldn't leave him hanging, but she couldn't think of any way to do it without being unnecessarily cruel.
And then he said, "Well. Well, that's great," and his voice was so warm and happy all her words of regrets froze in her throat.
"I'll... did you have a time in mind?"
"Eight or nine," he said, so late enough that they wouldn't be having dinner together. Miranda couldn't decided if that was a good or a bad thing. "I thought maybe we could meet there?"
"Just let me know where it is," she said, and reached for her pen to take notes.
Swing dancing. All right then.
She might as well see where it went.
Title: Sometimes Opportunities Call
Story: Huge Scary New Story
Colors: Brown 2 (brown someone off).
Supplies and Materials: Brush (sciential), oils (opposing forces), stain ("An idealist is a person who helps other people to be prosperous." - Henry Ford), modeling clay (sweet), yarn (this video, which made me cry), beading wire (this picture), glitter (affair), glue ("You really don't have much patience since everything seems to take longer than it should."), pastels (face), novelty beads (Binding).
Word Count: 791.
Rating: PG.
Summary: Miranda gets asked out.
Warnings: none
Notes:
This fucking day.
If Miranda hadn't had a stake in appearing perfectly put together at all times, she would have run her hands through her hair. She was considering killing someone-- she was fairly sure she could do that without disarranging her clothes-- but that would damage her cool professional air.
She pressed the tips of her fingers lightly against her brow, just for a moment, then went back to editing the contract that one of her underlings was supposed to have finished two weeks ago. This on top of a client negotiation that had to be handled by her since her mother was conveniently unavailable, and that escrow mess for Sanotech that she'd been trying to straighten out for two months now. If they'd only pay their damned deposit... but no, they were above all that nonsense and they relied on her to get their assets back to them.
Bastards. She was tempted to fail deliberately.
But alas, that was not what they paid her for, and by they, she meant of course her parents. Miranda sighed, and returned her attention to the contract, highlighting another problematic clause. The underling who wrote this would be pilloried.
Naturally, just then her phone buzzed.
She stared at it with loathing for a moment. It could be one of her parents, or perhaps Charlotte-- not Jackson, since he would have used her cell phone-- but it was far more likely another client or worse yet, Sanotech, and she did not have the patience to deal with them right now.
Well, she could tell her assistant that she wasn't in. She sighed again and picked up the phone. "Yes?"
"Ms. Hennessy." Her assistant sounded tired and a little stretched thin-- he'd need a vacation soon, she thought, and noted it quickly on her desktop calendar. "There's a gentleman on the line for you, a Mr. Edleson?"
She blinked, and tapped one finger rapidly on the counter. Peter Edleson's negotiations had been over for nearly two weeks. Curiosity overtook common sense and she said, "All right, I'll take it."
Her assistant didn't bother to say anything more; there was just the click of the line transferring over. Miranda put on her most professional tone. "Miranda Hennessy."
"Ms. Hennessy?" And that was definitely him, not someone using his name to get to her private office. There was no mistaking the warm baritone, or the soft shy smile she could actually hear. "I'm glad I caught you."
She didn't realize she was smiling until that made it drop off her face. "Yes, well, I'll probably be here late tonight." And every night for the past week. Not that she would mention that.
"I'm sorry to hear that," and he really did sound sorry. How strange.
She hummed noncommittally and asked, "Is there anything I can help you with, Mr. Edleson?"
There was a pause, a brief, embarrassed one, then he said, "Actually, I was hoping... um. I was wondering if maybe you had this Friday free. There's a club I know where they sponsor swing dancing on Friday nights, and..."
Miranda pulled the phone away from her ear and blinked at it for a moment, then put it back to her ear and, without waiting to see if he was still speaking, said, "I'm sorry, are you asking me out?"
Another embarrassed silence; he'd be coloring faintly pink along his cheekbones, and it bothered her that she knew that. "Yes?"
Well, that was plainly ridiculous. Miranda did not date, and when she had dated, it hadn't been people like Peter Edleson. She'd always liked people like her, people who understood that work came first, her family second. Polished people, professional people, not a scruffy nonprofit head who wore tweed, for God's sake.
"Yes," she said. "I'm free on Friday. "
The next silence was a stunned one.
Miranda didn't know what he was thinking, but she could not believe that had just come out of her mouth. And how exactly was she supposed to take it back now? She had to, she couldn't leave him hanging, but she couldn't think of any way to do it without being unnecessarily cruel.
And then he said, "Well. Well, that's great," and his voice was so warm and happy all her words of regrets froze in her throat.
"I'll... did you have a time in mind?"
"Eight or nine," he said, so late enough that they wouldn't be having dinner together. Miranda couldn't decided if that was a good or a bad thing. "I thought maybe we could meet there?"
"Just let me know where it is," she said, and reached for her pen to take notes.
Swing dancing. All right then.
She might as well see where it went.
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