The Nightingale
She/her
Twenty four
November 11
Slateport
Heterosexual
Assistant
executive
Defiance in her flesh, her blood, her bones; written on her soul
IMPASSE
POSTED ON Jan 31, 2019 7:28:58 GMT
[attr="class","isratalk"] It came as quite a surprise to have actually been left alone for as long as she had been. She suspected him to be the sort to expect her to be back the very next day not a week later. This had also given her plenty of time to mull over the fact she never thanked him for helping her. He could have easily left her to die, regardless of what the actual outcome may have been. regardless of her own irritation at the time it was customary to give thanks and now, for her to apologize. It was a playful gesture, the Cacnea plushie that she was carrying down the hall with a 'thank you, sorry for being a bitch' note tied around it. She was one to make playful gestures, especially out of her won commentary. Having told him to go fuck a cacnea was terribly out of line but she'd laughed at herself for saying it enough she just could't help it. If nothing else, it'd help further set the tone of what their experience working together was going to be. Would tell her more of what she needed to know about this specific councilman. Isra knocked on his office door but probably didn't wait quite long enough to really be given permission to enter before walking into the room, closing the door behind her with a foot and placing the plushie down on the table in front of him. It doesn't take long to take in what she sees. "You look like I arrived just in time to save the day." She is surprisingly chipper, a stark contrast tot he man in front of her. FERNANDO SILPH[newclass=.isratalk b]color: #9ed480;[/newclass]
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