Strictly Business [Closed] - Printable Version
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RE: Strictly Business [Closed] - saronym - 11-20-2016
Sanders’ lips pulled back in a toothy cheesy grin that wrinkled the corners of his eyes. The surprise on her face confirmed his theory: Owen was as secretive as ever. On both fronts. He didn’t tell his assistant about his personal life. He didn’t tell his friends much about his assistant. And here Sanders was bridging the gap. How nice.
A loud crack of his hands clapping together and he rubbed them vigorously when she agreed to play his game. “Great. I’ll meet you out back.” He thumbed towards the yard outside the kitchen window. “I gotta get my rope.” Sanders spared her a wink before he left the room in search of the rope he knew he had in the back of his truck.
Sanders easily found what he was looking for in the bed of the truck. He made a neat coil of the rope that had been tossed around in the back and looped it over his shoulder. Instead of trekking back through the house, he took the route around outside.
As he rounded the corner of the house into the backyard Sanders called to Drusilla, “Got the rope!” He unlooped it from his shoulder and held it proudly aloft for her to view. Like a child yelling to his parents: look what I got!
Instead of giving her the lesson on tying the lasso and forming the loop Sanders just tied it off himself as he walked. “Go out and stand in the yard over there a ways.” He waved his hand like a sportsman telling his team mate to go long. He lifted his hand and twirled his wrist showing Drusilla that he knew what he was doing. A halo of rope spinning above the cowboy’s head.
Sanders wondered if Drusilla was brave or not. Not that he intended to be rough with the lasso and bring her down. But he wondered how she would handle the prospect of being roped now that she had a visual of her fate.
RE: Strictly Business [Closed] - megs - 11-21-2016
Shaking her head, Drusilla did as she was instructed, pushing her way out of the back door to step into the yard. It was a large space with a lot of potential, that was currently being wasted. Two large trees provided ample shade and scenery. The next time she caught the Lieutenant Colonel in a good mood (which, though rare, did happen) she would ask if she could do something with the yard. Unbuttoning her blazer she walked across grass that crunched under her feet, and she wondered what Owen would think of this whole ordeal. Certainly, this had not been what he had had in mind when he’d instructed her to keep his friend busy.She allowed herself another small chuckle and a brief smile when he proudly announced the rope. The distance between them obscuring both gestures, she worried that her cool and collected reputation would not remain intact by the end of the Captain’s visit. She looked over her shoulder when he started waving her into the yard. “Are you serious?” she asked, though she was already taking steps backwards to put herself farther away from him.
“This doesn’t seem like a lesson,” she complained, having already caught onto his intentions. It had not been difficult for her to put two and two together, her eyes flickering to the spinning rope. Ears fell lopsided as she held out her hands as if to ask if she was far enough away, as there was a considerable distance between them now. Her ears pricked to attention as she all but awaited her fate. Drusilla may not have been particularly brave, but she was stubborn. Though she didn’t know what sort of point she would be proving by letting this eager cowboy capture her with a lasso, but she was going to do it anyway.
RE: Strictly Business [Closed] - saronym - 11-26-2016
Sanders continued to manipulate the rope keeping it in that lazy spin over his head. He watched Drusilla in red cross the yard at a steady pace. “Yeah, I’m serious!” He called back and the rope was certainly proof. “You scared?” He taunted for good measure. Taunting always worked on Owen to get him to do something questionable. Perhaps it would work on his assistant. He laughed loudly at the accusation that his intention wasn’t exactly to teach. Indeed it wasn’t. She hadn’t even stopped her walk yet when he let the loop loose training it around her body and down around her arms which were spread out in a question of whether she’d gone far enough. He pulled tight enough to lock her arms against her side and stop her from any farther walking.
Sanders started pulling at the rope to lead her back towards him laughing all the while. “Looks like I caught you Miss Haven!”
The sound of voices raised in the yard and Sanders laughing caught Owen’s attention. His call had ended and he was jotting down instructions for Drusilla to follow-up on before he forgot. Swiveling around in his chair, Owen glanced out the window in time to watch Sanders lasso his assistant.
“Oh my fucking God.” He cursed and rose quickly from the chair. He trotted through the house and out the back. Owen leaned against the doorframe crossing his arms over his chest.
“Seriously?” He called to the two who seemed quite chummy. Too chummy. Did Owen feel a pang of jealousy? How ridiculous. It was anger. Indignation that his assistant saw fit to play instead of work. Pushing away from the wall Owen crossed into the yard and to Drusilla who hadn’t yet made it to Sanders. He loosened the rope around her and pulled it over her head tossing it to the ground in disgust. “Need I remind you that I pay you more than the market bears for your work Miss Haven?” He warned.
Sanders hadn’t stopped laughing. He was bent over and slapping his thigh almost in disbelief that he’d gotten away with roping the Lieutenant Colonel’s assistant. Luckily, they were friends.
RE: Strictly Business [Closed] - megs - 11-26-2016
The tip of Drusilla’s tail bristled, indicating that she was immediately going to rise to the challenge his words offered. “I’m not scared,” she called over her shoulder, turning just in time for the rope to fall over her. Admittedly, she shrieked a little, having been caught - both off guard and by the expert manipulation of the lasso. The rope pinned her arms to her sides and she felt a brief pinch on her left bicep, but it wasn’t enough to bother her. Her laughter could not be contained the second time, and the sound of it erupted across the yard. It would be the only indication that he had impressed her. “It seems you have, Captain,” she replied. Julianna didn’t quite resist, but her pace did not match that in which he was pulling her closer. Lazy steps through the mostly unkempt yard as she picked her way past uneven patches of grass and the exposed roots of the looming oak tree.
Her residual smile died with the sound of the Lieutenant Colonel’s voice cutting sharply through Sanders’ laughter. Her ears fell to her head, if only to avoid the rope as he lifted it off of her. As soon as it was removed the sprang back to attention and she adjusted the sleeves of her blazer back down her elbows, before buttoning the single clasp across her abdomen. “Of course Lieutenant Colonel,” she replied, evenly. She worried for the state of his injuries after the speed in which he’d approached her, but she would save asking about them until later. She assumed he would not appreciate the reminder in front of his friend.
She also did not remind him that he’d instructed her to keep the Captain busy. Though she refused to be blamed for the methods in which he had chosen to entertain himself, she only replied with, “I was out of line, sir.” As she was getting scolded Sanders’s laughter began to sound mocking in her ears, as if he intention had been to get her in trouble all along. Her tail curled tight against the line of her spine as she moved around Owen and into the house through the back door. Leaving the men to catch up as they would.
RE: Strictly Business [Closed] - saronym - 11-28-2016
Sanders’ laughter went mostly uninterrupted save for his need to breathe and need to gloat. Her little shriek of surprise and the resistant way she walked through the yard was endlessly amusing to him. “I must say you didn’t put up much of a fight,” he teased, “it’s almost like you wanted to be caught.” Sanders was openly flirting with Owen’s assistant.And he added for good measure, “can’t say I blame ya!” Now Sanders was shamelessly self-promoting as if that were necessary after his recent victory. He had watched the trick work multiple times when employed by Owen on attractive women at bars. Challenge them to a task he was sure they would fail, or some sort of embarrassing dare. Rub in his victory. Accuse them of purposefully losing the bet or challenge by suggesting they spared his ego because they wanted him. Compliment them on their good taste in men. And finally, make a move.
Worked every time. For Owen at least, who seemed to have that charismatic nature that could pull off overly confident attitude without triggering disgust in his target. Sanders wondered if he’d mastered the delivery. And he intended to find out until Owen interrupted the last stage of his plan. Showing up just in the nick of time before Sanders could ask for Dru’s phone number and a date. He even scolded her and sent her inside which made Sanders feel bad for laughing. It left the cowboy with a sense that Owen was .. jealous. He’d come rushing outside and displayed his authority over Drusilla at the expense of her fun with his friend. Definitely jealous.
When the boys were done catching up - which included Owen lifting his shirt and displaying his blackened rib cage to a cringing Sanders - Owen brought his friend back inside. Sanders decided to test his theory. He brought Owen close for a confidential question, “So uh, Drusilla, are you two -” he brought his index fingers together at the tips to demonstrate the word he was looking for which was ‘together.’
“What. No. She’s my assistant.” Owen said evenly, his face a stony mask.
“So you don’t mind if I ask her out then?”
Owen’s face didn’t move an inch except for his mouth. “Go for it.” He said despite a near overwhelming desire to choke Sanders with the rope he’d looped around his shoulder. “Miss Haven.” He snapped her name in that quiet way he did. Not raising his voice because he didn’t have to. He moved off into the house as he gave his instructions. “Show Captain Strafford out.”
Owen mounted his stairs gingerly. As the day wore on it seemed his muscles grew tighter from his fall the previous evening. He planned to find himself more pain medicine and lay in bed ruminating. His bedroom door was closed in a way that was just a tad too brisk.
RE: Strictly Business [Closed] - megs - 11-29-2016
After her dismissal, Drusilla returned to the kitchen, which she her space as compared to the rest of the house. She could have very well claimed any other space, since Owen spent very little time in rooms that weren’t his office or bedroom, but she liked the kitchen best. Her face burned with embarrassment. Too quickly she had let herself get caught up in Sanders’ excited energy. He was like a whirlwind, and his casual nature had her briefly forgetting she was indeed at work. Drusilla cleaned up from breakfast, washing the few dishes she had used in the sink by hand. Her ears swiveled as she went the motions, because she could hear the muffled voices of the men outside. Looking up and out the window briefly, she could see them just as Owen was displaying his injuries, but she quickly looked down again. Placing the dishes to dry in the rack, she left the kitchen just as Owen and Sanders returned through the back door.
In the office, she found a mostly finished list of tasks for her to complete. The usual follow-up paperwork and filing for a mission debriefing. She left the sheet on the desk in case he decided to finish it, but she memorized what was already written. The sound of her name, just loud enough for her to hear, drew her from the room. She closed the door behind her and reconvened with them near the foyer.
“Yes sir,” she acquiesced, eyes tracking him as he made his way upstairs. She decided she would check on him after she said goodbye to Sanders. The near-slam of his bedroom door caused her ears to twitch, but she otherwise remained expressionless. The slightest tilt of her head indicated that the captain should follow her to the door. She opened it for him, standing near the barrier with one hand still poised around the doorknob.
“It was a pleasure to meet you Captain Strafford.” She paired the words with a small smile, her tail swaying near the floor. She was still a bit miffed about his part in getting her in trouble. “I’m sure the Lieutenant Colonel appreciated your visit.”
RE: Strictly Business [Closed] - saronym - 11-29-2016
Sanders also carefully observed Owen’s retreat to his bedroom. A blink of his eyes just following the slam of the door was his only reaction before he smiled at Drusilla and followed after her as she indicated. There was a tension in her voice and an almost impatient way to the movements of her tail at the bottom of his eye sight. Sanders scratched at the back of his neck and nodded slowly, “Yeah, I think he did.” He said as he stepped over the threshold and onto the porch. Briefly he considered just walking away but he turned suddenly to face her again. “Except for the lasso part. He didn’t find it very funny. Sorry I got you in trouble.”
His hand disappeared into the back of his jeans pocket as he retrieved a phone. It was one way out of the fashion of the time. No touch screen. A bulky brick of a thing. “You should let me make it up to you,” Sanders glanced up at her. He was punching at the keys on his phone before he held the device out for her to take. The screen showed a new contact form which he’d just filled in with her name ‘Drusilla Haven.’
“Let me buy you a few drinks and some cheese fries sometime and we’ll call it even?”
RE: Strictly Business [Closed] - megs - 11-30-2016
Drusilla nearly closed the door on him until he turned back around, so she stopped short. A bit surprised. A brow arched towards her hairline, and her smile softened as he apologized. The look of it was severely different from the professional one she had been using for his farewell. “You don’t have to apologize. It was my fault for letting you talk me into it.” Her smile turned into a smirk as she not-quite-apologized in return. “It was pretty funny to me though,” she admitted.This time both brows disappeared beneath her bangs as he suggested making it up to her. Hopefully, he wasn’t planning another stunt that would get her in more trouble with the Lieutenant Colonel, she was not entirely interested in a repeat of the previous performance. She took the phone from him, and stared down at her own name highlighted in the appropriate section. Her gaze flicked from the screen, to Sanders, and then back again as she considered his offer.
“I do like cheese fries,” she said as she entered her personal cell phone number into the device. "I'm off on Sundays." Once finished, she handed it back to him. “See you soon, Captain Strafford.” She smiled again, and after another back and forth of farewells, she closed the door with a sigh.
Now, to deal with the Lieutenant Colonel. One hand smoothed down her ponytail as another pulled the lapels of her blazer in order. Slow steps across the foyer and up the stairs brought her to the landing of the second floor. Her ears swept her hair, but she squared her shoulders and willed her tail into a steady rhythm as she approached Owen’s room.
Two light raps upon the closed door with her knuckle announced her presence outside it, but she didn’t not enter without waiting for a response. She could only hope that she wasn’t waking him; it would likely do her no favors given his earlier reprimanding.
“Lieutenant Colonel? I think we should check your stitches, and change the dressing?”
RE: Strictly Business [Closed] - saronym - 12-07-2016
Owen hadn’t been laying down in bed as he had planned. He’d been slowly pacing the floor worrying over Sanders asking Drusilla for a date. The idea of it ground at his nerves. Would she accept? Would they become an item? His thoughts were interrupted by her knocking at his bedroom door. He wheeled around at the sound of it, twisting more than he should have at the middle. A sharp twinge in his side elicited a gasp from him. Holding his ribs he padded across the floor to pull the door open for her. Owen regarded Drusilla silently for a moment before he turned around to move to his bed. He was glad that she had come to him. Glad to see that she’d thought of his needs. He knew the relief was because he’d felt the rage of jealousy for a moment. He had felt the absence of her attention. And he didn’t like it.
“I think I may have popped a stitch.” He admitted as he felt a slight warmth on his skin of blood seeping through the spot he’d just agitated by his sudden movement a moment ago.
Lowering himself onto the bed, Owen started to lift his shirt over his head one-handed, cringing at the stretch the action required. “I left a list for you on my desk.” His voice was a touch strained in his discomfort. “I might have you bring me some things up here so I can work.” He was more or less making up little bits of nothing to say to her to avoid seeming too eager to talk about Sanders.
“I expect you to complete your regular tasks today. I know you were...diverted for a while by Captain Strafford.”
RE: Strictly Business [Closed] - megs - 12-08-2016
Drusilla stared back at him. Worry had marred her usually neutral features, ears standing upwards from having heard his pained gasp on the other side of the door. She followed him into the room, moving towards the side table that still held the first aid kit she’d neglected to put away. Picking it up, she came to where he’d sat on the bed, laying the case down next to him. “Here, let me help,” she murmured, her fingers already catching the hem of his shirt without waiting for an answer. Gently, she lifted the fabric up and over his head, and let it fall upon the bed. “You’ve been moving too much,” she replied, close to scolding him. She took a knee next to him, tucking her feet beneath her bottom and carefully began peeling away the gauze taped over the wound. Soft fingers probed the edges of the wound, and she leaned closer to inspect it. Her neat row of stitches was an angry red line down his side, surrounded by an ugly sea of purple and yellow bruises. They were holding, but he had indeed pulled one apart. “Yeah, you did,” she said, mostly to herself, but it confirmed his previous statement.
She pulled the kit into her lap and opened it to begin rifling through for new gauze. The attentive perk of her ears indicated she was listening despite what may have appeared to be a distraction. “I will bring you whatever you need,” she said, glancing up at him, before her eyes fell back to the wound. Careful hands cleaned the blood away, before applying a thick layer of antibacterial gel. She removed a clean piece of gauze from its packaging and flattened it across the wound. “Will you hold this?” she asked quietly, not quite interrupting him as she reached for the tape. She ripped off a short length and secured one end of the gauze. Her ears fell flat when he mentioned her earlier brush with unprofessionalism.
Another piece of tape. “Of course, sir.” A third piece. She hummed thoughtfully as an idea occurred to her, lips parted as if she would speak, but she hesitated. Her lips pressed together, trapping whatever she might have said. “Is your side bothering you?” she asked after the last piece of tape was in place. Certainly not what she’d been planning to say. Her hand smoothed across his abdomen to cover the bruises that spread across the ribs he suspected he’d broken. She spread her fingers over the contusion, too large to be completely covered by her hand. She frowned, eyes flicking upwards to his again.
RE: Strictly Business [Closed] - saronym - 12-08-2016
Owen let himself relax out of the stretch as Drusilla helped pull the shirt over his head. His arms fell slowly to his sides and it was difficult for him to keep a cringe from his face. “The less I move the more it hurts when I do eventually move.” He explained his predicament with a slightly strained voice as she inspected the damage he’d done to her stitches. All in all not bad, just one had loosened but the wound held together fairly well. The bruising was coming along nicely. His side a multicolored canvas.“I think I have some muscle relaxers in the medicine cabinet.” The medications were really the only thing he needed. Owen did not need to continue working. He’d been told by his superior to take the rest of the day to rest, not that he would.
Anticipating pain as her hand moved over his side, Owen’s breath increased in pace with a sort of exaggerated rise and fall of his stomach and ribs. It was an involuntary response. The light brush of her fingers didn’t actually hurt him. It only made him wish he wasn’t bruised. Would her touch have felt good?
“A little bit.” He lied casually about his level of pain. His gaze met hers as she looked up at him. Truthfully, his side was bothering him the most. Owen captured her hand to pull it away from his bruises but he didn’t let go immediately. He glanced down at his hand holding hers as his thumb made the slightest brushing across the back of the knuckle on her index finger. The movement could have easily been mistaken for a mere twitching of his thumb.
When he spoke again, Owen released her hand and let his fall against the comforter. “So what was your impression of Captain Strafford?” He finally broached the topic that burned in the back of his mind, switching to a more formal style of speech as he transitioned back into his role as Lieutenant Colonel addressing his assistant. For a brief moment, he felt as if they had both let the formality slip away.
RE: Strictly Business [Closed] - megs - 12-08-2016
Her gaze was drawn to his hand on hers. It took a great effort on her part to leave her fingers limo in his grasp, especially after that subtle brush of his thumb. Her released her and her fingers curled against her palm, her skin somehow colder without his against it. “You should rest,” she advised, voicing what he already knew and would choose to ignore. She stood quickly, before she flexed her fingers and rubbed her hand down her jeans to rid herself of the feeling as she turned and disappeared into the bathroom. As she rifled through the medicine cabinet she ruminated on the strange way she was feeling. Her heart was beating audibly in her own ears, that twitched almost in time with it. Trying to rid themselves of the encompassing sound. Her stomach felt fluttering, like butterflies dancing to and fro beneath her skin. She fingered through the various contents of the cabinet, tilting her head slightly to read printed labels affixed to orange containers. Something as simple as touching him should not make her feel this way. She glanced at herself in the mirror and frowned at her own reflection. There was a reprimand in the furrow of her brow. Finding what she was looking for, she closed the cabinet and walked back into bedroom.
Perhaps it had been the way he’d looked at her. Damnit, she was still thinking about it. That lingering gaze. She’d been unable to read what was happening behind storm grey eyes.
Drusilla moved just close enough to hand the bottle of pills off to him. She’d almost missed his question, too absorbed in her own thoughts. “Captain Strafford?” she repeated, to confirm that she had heard him, while she forced her brain to focus on this new topic. An ear fell lopsided, then the other, their movement looked akin to someone shifting on their feet. Her tail was still, curling slightly at the end without touching the floor. “He seemed nice,” she offered with the suspicion that he wanted a more conclusive answer. She cleared her throat. “He is…” she paused, struggling for the right word. She wanted something descriptive, but didn’t sound like a compliment. She had to settle for, “Likable. You sort of get...swept up in his antics. I guess.”
RE: Strictly Business [Closed] - saronym - 12-13-2016
“I will rest,” Owen sighed acquiescing to her suggestion. When she was finished with him he pushed himself back onto the bed to lean against the headboard. A pillow propped between his back and the wood behind him. He accepted the bottle of medicine. Pills clattered against plastic as he shook it around to estimate the number left. He used the palm of his hand to twist the bottle open, his eyes remained on an uncomfortable looking Drusilla. The topic of Sanders left her looking more fidgety than normal.
“Swept up. Yes.” Owen mused almost under his breath as he threw a couple of pills into the back of his throat. He dry swallowed them with some evidence of effort as they were rather large pills with no coating to ease them going down.
“I’ve told him that he would make a great officer. Or undercover agent.” He said deciding to carry on the topic of the cowboy a little more. “He has the sort of charisma that would take him far. Nice smile. Hard body. Carries himself well. That kind of infectious charm. Don’t you think?” Owen waited a moment before continuing with one more thought. “He has those trustworthy eyes.” Owen’s index finger passed between his own eyes as he spoke pointing to each grey orb in turn. His gesture seemed to suggest that if Sanders’ eyes were the trustworthy ones perhaps his own were not so much.
He sighed again, a more dramatic sound this time. “But he prefers flying helicopters. And using his charms on women.”
Owen had spent several moments singing the praises of his friend as he carefully gauged Drusilla’s reaction. “In fact,” he placed the pills on the night stand with a sharp clack, “he asked me if he could ask you out.”
Owen’s hands were folded on his stomach with fingers laced together as he awaited how his assistant would respond.
RE: Strictly Business [Closed] - megs - 12-14-2016
"Good." Drusilla moved when he moved. Automatically, and without thinking. She moved from where she had been at the foot of the bed, meeting him at the head of it. She adjusted the pillows and the comforter around him without being asked. Accommodating for the small movements that were still difficult for him to make, leaving the scent of her lotion on dark blue bed coverings. She touched his shoulder as he settled. It was brief, easy to miss, easy to ignore the swift brush of her fingers. She stood straight, as he handled the pills and suppressed a cringe as she watched him down them without a drink. She laced her fingers in front of her, resting against her thighs as she listened to him speak about Sanders. There was a point to this conversation, she could sense it, but she didn’t interrupt. Her ears pushed to attention, and her tail swayed slowly behind her knees. Her eyes tracked his finger as it pointed to each of his. When his hand dropped, she held his gaze.
She caught the meaning he was trying to convey. That perhaps he was less trustworthy than the cowboy. Drusilla chose to ignore it.
“Helicopters aren’t really so bad,” she chimed, adding to the conversation for the sake of not feeling like she was being talked at. She didn’t indulge the comment about charming women. Drusilla did not take the bait in the statement. She had not been charmed, she’d been tricked. Or something. Something that was somehow not her fault and did not involve her being...charmed.
Her brows lifted, his lauding of Sanders drew to an unexpected conclusion. They settled, returning her face to its calm neutrality. Drusilla couldn’t read anything from his tone or his posture. Was he telling her this because he was jealous? Did she want him to be jealous? Or was he asking because he was curious of the outcome. They were friends, so wouldn’t Sanders just tell him all about his success in acquiring her number later? She had a lot of questions, but she didn’t ask any of them. Instead she said, “Oh? That was very considerate of him. Some people would be uncomfortable with the potential of crossover in their work and personal lives.”
RE: Strictly Business [Closed] - saronym - 12-17-2016
When Drusilla moved to assist him get comfortable, he stopped trying to adjust the pillows for himself. He just let her do it and settled back against them when it felt right. The scent of something she wore filled the air around him. Just the same as what she'd worn the previous evening. Her hand brushed against his shoulder and his eyes flicked downwards to track its movement back to her side. Just a faint sensation of gentle fingers on him and it was gone again almost as if it hadn't happened.“Helicopters pilots have nowhere to go but down.” His index finger made a nose-dive to demonstrate his point which was two-fold: it was a dead-end career unless they transferred into command and it was a dead-end career because many of them ended up dead. “They have one of the highest mortality rates as a group in the CAF. Second to, I believe, special reconnaissance.” Special reconnaissance being the thing that had him bedridden that very moment.
All his meandering conversation had a point, Owen just wasn’t sure what it was anymore. Was he trying to convince Drusilla that Sanders wasn’t a good option for her? And somehow in doing so, he made himself out as worse. Untrustworthy and more likely to die. Smooth moves Lieutenant Colonel.
Owen listened to Drusilla make her observations about work and personal life. It reminded him of their interview. In this position, there is necessarily a mingling of my professional and personal life, he had said before asking her reasons why he should trust her. And she’d very cleverly given him none. Yet here they were, stitches she’d put in his side to close a wound, leaning against pillows she’d arranged for him. There was certainly a great deal of...trust between them.
“And are you one of those people Miss Haven? Who would prefer separate spheres?”
They had worked together for a couple of months and still had not learned many things about one another. Here Owen was asking his assistant about her opinion on the nature of a separation between work and personal life under the guise of a conversation about Sanders. In truth he simply wanted to tell her he wanted her to prefer him over Sanders. Perhaps he even wanted reassurance that she would be open to a certain mingling with a certain boss.