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Public Relations [Closed] - Printable Version

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RE: Public Relations [Closed] - megs - 12-07-2016

The young publicist did not falter under the weight of two sets of eyes on her. Let them look, she thought. They both could take the time to notice how well dressed and composed she was despite their unspoken attempts to fluster her. If they stared long enough they would notice that her lipstick was perfect and not a hair was out of place. She didn’t allow herself to be comforted by Renton’s white smile or Owen’s offers of help. She was absolutely sure that they were both trying to trick her. If anything, they wanted to watch her fail. Julianna tended to entertain a very cynical train of thought.

She nodded curtly with a forced smile when he left the offer open-ended. Currently, she simply did not want his assistance out of spite. If he’d been less arrogant, and less croissant-stealy she would have been more amiable to his proposition. One of her ears fell lopsided at the sound of that snort of a laugh. She dropped her gaze without realizing it, the haughty turn of her chin falling as well. She focused on Renton’s decorative tie clip instead of either of their faces. “It’s my job to figure it out,” she replied, managing to keep the annoyance from her tone. Fully aware there was no sincerity in his tone. Her tail flicked behind her knees.

Julianna’s eyes were pulled away from the tie clip by the business card Owen presented her. A further indication that he just knew she would need something from him. Ears pushed to attention and she almost frowned. She delicately plucked the card from between his fingers. Her clutch opened with a magnetic snap, and the card disappeared inside without her having looked at it. The sturdy weight of the paper slipped easily into a designated pocket. Before closing the purse, she selected one of her own business cards and offered it to the officer; as was polite in these situations. Though hers contained less information, her name, her profession and her phone number, it was more decorative than Owen’s. It was a subtle ivory color, the left side embossed with a lacy filigree.

“If I find myself in need of assistance you will be my first choice,” she acquiesced. She was very determined not to need help. She smoothed her free hand over the fabric across her hips, before interlocking her fingers against the items she held.

“If we’re finished here, Agent Bell...?" She let the expression trail with the impression of a question. Insisting that she be allowed to get back to work felt out of place, when she'd yet to get a chance to start working.

RE: Public Relations [Closed] - saronym - 12-14-2016

What Owen could tell about Julianna from observing her for a moment was that she was stubborn. Determined to refuse his help. Determined to do it her way. Which was fine with him. She had a sort of spunky attitude. Perhaps she would be able to handle the erratic and impulsive techie after all.

Then again. Probably not.

Such was the course of his thoughts as she handed him her business card. The slightest curl at the corner of his lips suggested he was either indulging an amusing idea or perhaps even smiling politely as he accepted the card. It could have really been either but was more likely the former. And the amusing thought being Julianna’s eventual failure and need of him to bail her out.

He accepted her card but unlike her, he took occasion to study it for a moment. His thumb ran over the decoration at the side of the card and he tested the weight of the stock by rubbing index and thumb together with the card in between. Whether he approved or not Owen didn’t give away on his face. He tucked the card into an inner pocket of his uniform dress jacket.

Renton watched the exchange silently. He studied Julianna and Owen who were very obviously in some sort of battle of wills. It was hard to tell who was winning. To Renton at the moment it seemed that Owen had the upper hand. Though it could have just been the impression made by the way the blonde officer seemed to loom over them all. To be fair, the small woman was certainly holding her own. A worthy contender. It was a toss up.

He sort of snapped to attention when Julianna addressed him and nodded. “Yes. All finished.” He gestured to the empty pastry tray. “Well the pastries that is.” He raised his index finger and moved more to face Owen. “Ah, just one more thing.”

Owen’s gaze moved from Julianna to Renton and he blinked slowly. The only movement on his face was that deliberate bat of his eyes. He seemed to be listening so Renton continued on, “..about the safe. Is it-”

“No.” The one word interrupted the curious blue-eyed man. “Go back to your cubicle Agent Bell.”

“But - I was just-” Renton started but drifted in another direction when Owen gave him a look of warning. “It’s more a work station than-”

“Cubicle. Now.” The Brigadier General made this order with a sort of finality. He was done indulging them their fun. He signaled impatiently to Julianna with his finger that she should take her charge into her custody and out of his sight sooner rather than later.

The officer turned on his heel to leave the lounge but paused at the door and looked back at the pair. “Stay out of Central Command unless on official business. And display your lanyard I.D. on the outside of your clothing, Bell.” He opened the door and moved outside. As it swung closed his voice could be heard fading as he quoted the grooming standards manual. “Uniform Code 1290 dash 5 section B. Identification and clearances should be displayed in a manner reasonably accessible to the naked eye at all times while on base without exception.”

Renton had deflated under the weight of the disapproving officer. He huffed and rolled his eyes at the quotation of the manual. He made as if to follow Owen’s orders, removing the lanyard from his pocket and threading it over his head. Finally, when Owen was safely gone, Renton perked up and clapped his hands together to signal the ending of their galavant in Central Command. An adventure indeed.

“Well that was fun. What’s next?” He checked his watch. “Ooh! Lunch is in three hours and thirty minutes. I heard that the Department of Training and Readiness is ordering pho today.” Not two minutes had passed and Renton was thinking about more food and removing the lanyard again and tucking it back down into his pocket. Almost as if he had already forgotten the directives given to him.

RE: Public Relations [Closed] - megs - 12-15-2016

Julianna resisted the urge to roll her eyes as he took his time inspecting her card. No doubt he was doing that judgey thing that men seemed to do when they encountered a new business card. As if they could discern something about a person from their choice of card stock. Secrets hidden in the decorative borders. In the end, he said nothing about it. Which was fine, because she didn’t care what he thought.

Taking Owen’s gaze off of her had not been Renton’s intention when he spoke up but she was thankful for it regardless. She had been quickly tiring of the way he had been staring down at her. As if he had any authority over her. As if she were some cadet that he was looking forward to intimidating into compliance. At some point, she’d stopped listening to the men converse, but the conclusiveness in the way Agent Hart said now, had her ears swiveling to attention. She tracked the Brigadier General’s gestures that implied she should somehow be herding the unruly technician out of his sights. She frowned. Clearly, he’d already misinterpreted her job.

“Yes, sir,” she replied tightly as Owen gave the last of his instructions. Her frown remained as she watched him leave. Somehow, it deepened as she listened to receding sound of his voice.

“Do you think he actually knows all those codes or does he just make them up to sound pretentious?” This question was said mostly under her breath and to no one in particular. She didn’t wait for an answer, before she moved away from Renton and the now depleted pastry table. Her heels were sharp on the tile, her tail making annoyed movements behind her that matched the cadence of her steps. She didn’t wait for Renton, and didn’t check to see if he was following her as she made her way out of the lounge. His voice behind her was enough to indicate that he was there. She stopped walking, when he brought up lunch. Three hours was entirely too long for him to be concerned with, but the mention of pho caused hunger pangs to wrack her stomach. Half of a plain croissant had not been enough to satisfy her lack of breakfast, if anything, it made her hungrier.

“That wasn’t fun,” she countered, narrowing her eyes at him. “It was embarrassing. I’ve been here two hours and I’ve already been scolded by an officer. And if that wasn’t bad enough, I’ve gotten nothing done.”

Her phone chimed as she glared up at him, and she moved things around in her hands to retrieve the device from her clutch as she talked. “Why do I have a feeling you’re not supposed to bother the Department of Training and Readiness either?” she asked, glancing down at the screen. She sighed, sliding her finger across the glass to answer it. “Put your lanyard back on,” she directed, before turning away from him to address whoever was on the line.

Julianna continued the forward motion that would remove her from the Central Command wing. Now, that it had been made perfectly clear that she was not supposed to be there she was eager to leave. “Thank you. I will be right there,” she said into the phone, held against her face with her shoulder as she approached the elevators. She jabbed the button with more force than necessary, as she hung up and tucked the device away again. “I have to go to Human Resources and pick up my welcome packet. If you come with me you have to answer my questions. Otherwise, you can return to your cubicle.” She gave him an ultimatum, because she was under the impression he wanted to be anywhere but the tech wing. She specifically used the word cubicle, because it seemed to annoy him, and since she was a little miffed with him, it felt fair.

RE: Public Relations [Closed] - saronym - 12-17-2016

“Oh no. He’s definitely quoting the actual regulations.” Renton answered Julianna’s rhetorical question. He had occasion to cross-reference the employee codes once and found that Owen wasn't full of shit. He was full of random codes to quote. “I think I heard that he has a photographic memory like me. Other people say he has too much time on his hands.” Renton smoothed out his tie and moved to refill his coffee. “Personally, I think he’s figured out which regulations would be the most commonly cited and just memorizes those to intimidate people. Know-it-all. Show-off.” He muttered the last two lame insults as he added sugar to his mug. He was feeling somewhat sour after being knocked down by the Brigadier General. Although that was to be expected.

“They don’t mind that I come visit them.” Renton retorted - mostly truth this time - about the Department of Readiness and Training. He often split the cost of lunch with them and spent more time than was allotted for the meal bullshitting with the staff. Renton was a veritable celebrity in many departments. And a menace to others.

He ignored Julianna’s directive to display his lanyard. Just because she was assigned to pretty up his image - or whatever it is she did - did not mean he had to listen to her all the time. Or ever. In fact, he had pretty much already planned to ignore or disobey almost anything she asked of him.

Renton was left following after Julianna balancing a mug of steaming coffee lest it spill over the rim. The mug he had was one belonging to Central Command as it had their logo on it. At his work station, he had started a collection of mugs with various department logos on them. Central Command would be his newest edition.

“It’s a workstation.” He corrected her winking at the guards stationed at the doors as they left. “I love HR. Have you met Catherine yet? She’s such a mess. It’s adorable.” So far as he’d revealed he was willing to accompany Julianna on her next CAF adventure. That could be taken as some willingness to answer a few questions. That did not mean that Renton would tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

As he so rarely did.

They entered the elevator and Renton pressed the floor that would lead them to HR. He settled against the back wall and blew steam off the top of his mug the coffee inside still too hot to safely consume.

RE: Public Relations [Closed] - megs - 12-17-2016

Julianna hummed, understanding but unamused at Renton’s answer. Though, she was interested to know that Agent Bell had a photographic memory. That made two of them, but she did not share the information with him. Their continued interaction depended more on her learning about him than the other way around. Julianna did not consider that, with Renton, the divulgence of information was easier as a two way street. “He certainly has too much of something,” she said from between clenched teeth, watching his hand move over the decorated fabric that hung across his chest. She didn’t know what she meant by her snappy response, she just assumed it would be ignored. Perhaps she meant time, perhaps she meant pride. She left it undeclared.

Her ears shifted on her head, catching Renton’s explanation of where he was allowed to be even though she was on the phone. She shrugged. “Far be it for me to tell you where you can and can’t go,” she said to him where there was a lull in her phone conversation. "If they enjoy your presence who am I to keep it from them?" When he appeared next to her near the elevator, her eyes swept over him. No lanyard. She hummed again, rolling her eyes away from him to watch her own reflection in the elevator doors. It wasn’t difficult for her to gather that he had no intention of listening to her. She was willing to bet that would include more than the lanyard.

“Workstation,” she breathed with a generous smile, correcting herself for his benefit, though she didn’t look at him. "I met Catherine this morning,” she replied and she did not elaborate on what she thought of the woman in question. A mess seemed like a light way of putting it. Julianna eventually glanced at Renton out of her periphery, her gaze drawn to him for whatever reason. Green eyes quickly returned to her skewed reflection until the doors opened. She took a step back, allowing a few passengers to exit, before she moved to replace them.

Julianna fell into silence as Agent Bell settled towards the back, and the doors trapped them inside the small space. She stood closer to the doors than he, spine straight and eager to be out of the wretched thing. Her back was to Renton and her tail moved agitated in the space between them. Her ears pinned backwards as she took a deep breath. “Is it just the lanyard you don’t like?” she asked, to fill the silence. She smoothed a hand over her abdomen, as if to steady herself. The whirring of the moving elevator was doing nothing for her nerves, putting a slight waver to her tone. “Or is it that you have to wear identification?”

RE: Public Relations [Closed] - saronym - 01-04-2017

Renton leaned casually against the elevator wall. At first he thought an adventure to Central Command would be fun - and it usually was. This PR lady was turning out to be a real buzz kill. He could practically see the tension in her shoulders, and he could certainly see the agitation playing out in the movements of her tail. The way her eyes flicked over his appearance noting his failure to do as she said and put his lanyard back on. It was a look that could rival the most haughty of CAF officers.

He pretended not to notice and looked down at the toes of his shoes with arms folded over his chest. Even her conversation style seemed to be informed by her profession. Renton had set up a perfect opportunity to bond with her over the mess that was Catherine. She could have agreed with his statement and they could have laughed together. Instead she chose to be cold and diplomatic and merely confirmed that she had met the woman in question. Neat.

Now Renton’s mood was souring. He sipped at his coffee and remained quiet. That is until she asked him a question. He delayed in answering, spying her with clear blue eyes over the rim of his black mug. The cup was lowered slowly and he gripped it in both hands around the middle.

“I look like one of the interns running around with a lanyard on.” He let go of the mug long enough to pull his I.D. from his pocket and thread it over his head. “It covers a lot of my tie and my tie clip.” The plastic was held out for Julianna to read. “And I don’t like that it outs me as an alleged criminal. Everyone knows who I am, why bring more attention to it.”

Indeed his identification tag was printed with his name Renton F. Bell and his title. In shining holographic lettering at the top the words Compulsory Enlisted Consultant were printed. A labeling of him as one of the few criminals the CAF had managed to get ahold of for their expertise. Renton wasn’t the only one. He was just the most high profile.

RE: Public Relations [Closed] - megs - 01-05-2017

Julianna didn’t look at him. She could sort of make out Renton’s reflection in the elevator doors, but she was mostly impatiently waiting for them to open. She willed her tail to still, but it did not often listen to her. She was oblivious to the notion that her nervousness was being misconstrued. Unaware of the mood souring that was happening behind her back. The machinery jolted to a halt as they reached the desired floor and she paled. Her tanned skin somehow losing color. The doors opened and she was off in two quick steps and she immediately felt as if she could breathe again. Another passing of her hand across her stomach.

Renton didn’t answer her question immediately, and she had not expected him to. She assumed that this would be their relationship from the get go. Tense and withholding. No one liked thinking they had a babysitter, or feeling like tight leash was being tightend. All she could do was work around it. She continued forward in the relative silence of their nonexistent conversation.

She paused outside the doors to the H.R. offices when he spoke, turning to look at him. She was surprised by his answer, but her face didn’t show it. It was fixed in that neutral expression that he had deemed haughty. Jules thought of it more as a mask. Her features weren’t particularly emotive around clients or strangers. Too much to give away by the wrong curl of lips or cock of brow. She watched as he laced the offending item over his head and indeed it covered the accessories in question. “I see,” was her curt reply, and this time her brow pulled together in a thoughtful furrow, before she opened the doors and stepped into the offices.

Catherine seemed to have collected herself somewhat in the few hours that Julianna had been gone. Her desk was less of a mess, and the items for Julianna were waiting in a neat stack on the counter. Catherine went over everything with her.

“So, here is your new ID and your clearance codes. This is the employee handbook, and a copy of your contract agreement.” She pointed everything out as she went over it, Julianna listened patiently, though she was positive she could have figured it out on her own. Setting her clutch and tablet down, she pulled the items closer to her, she quickly rifled through them to double check that everything was indeed in order. She could feel Renton hovering at her back.

Julianna selected a card that was minimalist at best. Her name printed and relevant data with a bar code, and a magnetic strip across the back. She pushed it towards Catherine. “I would like all personnel and case files on Agent Renton Bell, please.” She made this request as if he were not still standing right behind her. She had a job to do and if he didn’t want to help her do it, she would have to find a work around.

Catherine trotted off to fulfill her request and with a quick turn on her heel she was facing Agent Bell again. “May I have your lanyard, please?” She held out her hand as if she expected him to honor her request. When he handed it over without protest, he seemed mostly pleased to have an excuse to take it off. Julianna unclipped her ID from her pocket and pulled the temporary card out of it. Instead, of putting her new card in, she slid Renton’s from the lanyard and tucked it inside.

She moved close enough to clip the new badge to his jacket pocket. She arranged his pocket square around it in such a way that it was also unobscured. “It is a very nice tie clip,” she complimented. “It would be a shame for no one to see it.” Turning back to the counter she put her own ID inside the lanyard and tossed it over her head, pulling her hair out from beneath it. She fussed with it until it fell properly against the buttons of her blouse.

“I will talk to the commander about changing your ID, tomorrow,” she offered. She had turned away from him, fingers laced upon the counter as she waited for Catherine to return. Her ears stood at attention and her tail had resumed a gentle sway. She was already drafting the speech she would use to get her requests in motion. Renton had a good point, and she felt for him. She hoped he would realize that she was there to help him.

RE: Public Relations [Closed] - saronym - 01-09-2017

Renton hung back and followed Julianna into the H.R. office suites. He almost wished he had gone back to his desk instead. This wasn’t turning out to be the fun adventure he wanted out of the side trip. Catherine smiled her greeting at Renton and finger-waved at him. He returned the gesture and it was lost on the other woman that he was kind of mocking her.

Renton leaned against the wall with one arm hugging his middle and the other propped up on it as a way to rest his head on his hand while he waited for the women to get the I.Ds sorted out. When Julianna requested all of his personnel files his jaw dropped open in mock horror as if she had asked for something heinous. He mouthed ‘really?!’ at Julianna when Catherine turned away to fulfill the request.

She turned to him requesting his lanyard and he handed it over in a huff not knowing what she wanted it for. Then Julianna’s hands were on him, clipping the badge and arranging his pocket square while he watched her fingers work.

Renton used the reflective glass windows of one of the side offices to check out his appearance. Finding this I.D. arrangement didn’t disrupt the lines of his suit he merely smoothed the I.D. against his chest and moved up next to Julianna at the counter. He sort of slid in next to her with his hand resting on the counter.

“Well maybe you can convince him.” He didn’t seem to believe it but he said it anyways out of appreciation for her generosity in trading him the badge clip.

Renton rubbed at some invisible speck of dirt on the counter and flicked it away. He turned around so that his backside leaned against the counter and folded his arms over his chest. Staring at her over one shoulder he asked, “So are you claustrophobic?”

Julianna’s fidgeting and behavior in the elevator had left him with the impression that she was nervous about the ride or the enclosed space. He hadn’t deduced what it was that bothered her. She had almost seemed nauseous to him.

RE: Public Relations [Closed] - megs - 01-10-2017

Silver furred ears fell momentarily as Renton slid up next to her. She turned her face to him, regarding him quietly as he posed his question. The appendages pushed forward, and her carefully curated neutral expression was broken momentarily. Her brow furrowed, she chewed the inside of her cheek, visibly debating on whether it was something she wanted to discuss with him. “Yes,” she said after a few heartbeats. It was sharp and too quick and she could hear how mean she sounded in her own ears. Had she sounded like that all morning? If she had it was no wonder he seemed so put out.

She cleared her throat, suddenly self-conscious and looked away from him. “I don’t like small spaces,” she explained. “I especially don’t like them if they are crowded and I most especially do not like them if they are dark.” Julianna had been claustrophobic before her accident, but it was safe to say that the accident did not help matters. These details she withheld.

Catherine returned with the files and Julianna was grateful for the distraction. It was quite an impressive stack of color-coded file folders and laminated cover sheets. The secretary dropped the pile on the counter and placed Julianna’s access card on top of it all. She sighed, blowing hair away from her face in the same motion. “That’s everything we have,” she reassured, her gaze flickered to Renton who was still leaning against the counter. Julianna caught the glance as she put her card away. “Can I get anything else for you Ms. Maxillion?” A breathy, high-pitched tone always made Catherine sound much too eager to please.

“No that will be all, thank you,” she replied, still making great efforts to modify her tone into something warm. Warm for her, at least. She lifted the stack from the counter, and looked at her clutch and tablet still sitting on the counter top. She looked at the pile in her hands and then back at her belongings. She looked at Renton.

“Would you mind grabbing those for me?”

She momentarily considered that placing her phone and her tablet in the hands of a hacker might not have been the best idea, but it wasn’t as if she was going to let him out of her sight with them. So, safe enough. Right?

Julianna made the conscious decision to trust Renton until he gave her a reason not to. Otherwise, she really wasn’t any better than those who made him wear a badge that outed him as a criminal.

Still ruminating over her earlier attitude one of her ears fell lopsided, her tail made an appearance over her shoulder. “Why don’t we get an early lunch?” she offered. “Get off base for an hour or two?” She had been made very aware that he was only permitted to leave the grounds during his working hours with an escort. “And then maybe we can talk?”

RE: Public Relations [Closed] - saronym - 01-11-2017

It was almost too easy.

Renton, of course, was scooping up the P.R. agent’s tablet and iPhone just a fraction of a second before she even asked. “Sure thing.” He promised flashing a radiant toothy smile. His willingness to be helpful should have tipped her off.

Like taking candy from a baby.

He suddenly turned back to Catherine, devices in hand now hidden from Julianna’s line of sight with the turn of his body.

“Hey did I see you out at Mirage the other night with a certain Central Command officer?” He only asked the question to buy him time so as to save him the risk of Julianna’s eyes so he could slip a micro USB drive into the tablet. It happened in the moment that he was whirling around. Just a quick slip of his hand. The USB was loaded with a virus he’d written to surreptitiously infect devices and give him an easy backdoor. Simple remote access. He knew how long it would take for the files to transfer onto the device. An internal clock started ticking. Meaning he started reciting the alphabet to himself rhythmically

A, B, C, D, E, F, G

“Me?” Catherine’s voice lilted even higher. “That doesn’t sound like me?” H, I, J, K, L,M, N, O, P

“You sure? Sequin dress? Strappy heels?” Q, R, S, T, U, V

“No...” W, X, Y, and, Z. “I haven’t been there -”

“Hm!” Renton interrupted her with a hum once he was sure the transfer had occurred. While rearranging the pens in a little container on the counter, he removed the device with the other hand. Catherine’s attention was caught by his rearranging. His back was to Julianna obscuring her view. “My mistake. But if it was you. You looked wonderful. And that thing you did with your ass was scandalous.” He winked at Catherine who look pleased to have received a compliment from the charming Renton, even if it clearly wasn't meant for her. Renton turned back to Julianna.

“Lunch sounds wonderful.” He chimed as they entered the elevator again together. “Guess we should drop off your stuff.” He gestured cheerfully with the tablet and iPhone. “Do you have an office, yet?”

Renton was all smiles when he turned to face the elevator doors as they closed. It seemed the day was turning around indeed. He ticked off the good parts in his mind. A new pet. A Central Command gallivant. An encounter with both the handsome Darcy and Owen. A badge clip to spare his suit lines. An easy hack. And now an escort off grounds for lunch.

He was pleased. Downright tickled with himself.

RE: Public Relations [Closed] - megs - 01-12-2017

Julianna remained blissfully unaware that her tablet had been tampered with. And yesterday’s lunch with Renton went how she expected it would. He had been courteous and responsive, but he had also been withholding and evasive. In short, she had learned nothing from him that she would not later read in his personnel file. Her blatant acquisition of the files in question, she assumed, had something to do with his continued attitude. At the time, she had been trying to make a point, and it seemed that now, so was he.

However, today was a new day and she vowed to make it more productive than the last. She went over stark bullet points in her head, and envisioned the personal itinerary she had laid out for the day. She could see the list perfectly behind her closed eyes that were blocking out a view of her reflection in the elevator doors as she rose upwards towards the Central Command offices. One hand was spread over the peach fabric of her peplum top, as she tried to keep her breathing under control. It was a wonder that she didn’t just take the stairs, but amazingly stairwells were somehow worse.

The cute top was paired with a beige skirt decorated in numerous multi-colored butterflies and matching pumps. Her watch and her clutch and the cover on her tablet also matched the peachy accents of her outfit. It was perhaps a bit over the top, but she liked to think she looked put together. As she stepped off the elevator, she removed her hand from her stomach to push her hair over her shoulder.

This time she was allowed into the Central Command wing with an official ID. She lifted the lanyard to be inspected by the guards stationed there. She remembered how friendly and cool Renton had been with them, thinking on it now it kind of amused her. They let her pass and she let the badge fall back against her chest.

When she reached the Commander’s office, she found Samantha, his assistant, seated at her desk, but she wasn’t alone. The familiar red head was joined by a tall, thin blonde that she wasn’t acquainted with.

“Ms. Maxillion,” Samantha smiled and stood to greet her. “You have a meeting with Commander Weatherfare right?”

“She pulled her eyes away from the back of the blonde’s head just before she turned around. “Yes, is he busy?”

“Oh, not really. He’s just meeting with the Brigadier General, but he said to send you in when you arrived. So, go right ahead.” Samantha was too cheerful, as if to offset the way the Commander had a tendency to stress her out.

“You’re the new P.R. agent?” A comment from the blonde stopped Julianna in her tracks. She nodded her assent. A hand was presented for her to shake.

“Lilian Tiesel. Brigadier General Owen Hart’s Executive Assistant.”

It was quite a mouthful, and Julianna was lost wondering if she practiced the phrase to keep from stumbling over it. “Julianna Maxillion, a pleasure.” She released the woman’s hand, turning away from her to dissuade any further pleasantries. The two women immediately started talking in hushed whispers as soon as her back was turned.

She knocked once on the door before pushing her way into Darcy’s office. She walked in far enough to close the door behind her. “Commander. Brigadier General.” She greeted each of the men in turn. Her tail swayed slowly at her feet. Ears remained at attention. “I wasn’t expecting company,” she admitted, holding her belongings against her thighs as she often did.

RE: Public Relations [Closed] - saronym - 01-19-2017

The Brigadier General was mid-sentence engrossed in his discussion with the Commander when a knock disturbed his thought processes. He assumed it was one of their assistants coming to present them with some immediate concern. He glanced back quickly but would have continued the thought as it returned to him if not for a burst of unexpected colors meeting the eyes.

He did a double take. The second time his face turned to her it wore a frown of disapproval and his gaze swept in judgment over the bright outfit she wore. Like he didn’t approve of such attire when the military uniforms were so plain.

It reminded him of...Renton. Renton’s insistence to stand out. Wearing tailored suits, bold ties, and matching tie clips.

He held up his hand as if to cut her off. “Do you mind? We’re in the middle of something.” His tone was sharp and dismissive as if that should have been enough to expel her from the room.

RE: Public Relations [Closed] - megs - 01-20-2017

Julianna watched Owen look her over. She could see grey eyes tracking the the highlights of her ensemble in a disapproving manner. She frowned back at him. He didn’t get to decide what she wore. Honestly, she didn’t even know which part of her appearance he didn’t like. She looked nice. She looked professional. She concluded that he was just determined to be annoyed with her.

The Brigadier General attempted to dismiss her and her sharp inhale clued Darcy into her intent to make a snappy retort. He lifted his hand to quell both of them before they started to bicker. His godson seemed unable to get along with anyone. He wondered what she could have done in a day to get to him. “Miss Maxillion has an appointment,” the Commander informed the other officer. “We will continue our conversation when she has finished.” Darcy gave a pointed look to Owen and Julianna kept a smirk under control as she gained the upper hand. Darcy turned his attention back to the publicist. “What is it you wanted to speak about, Julianna?”

She moved away from the door, tail swaying as she crossed the room to stand near Owen and Darcy’s desk. She didn’t sit, had always felt more comfortable standing when she had prepared a speech. “I wanted to discuss clearance and identification with you, specifically the IDs worn by the compulsory agents.” She paused, keeping her gaze on Darcy and not the grumpy general to her left. Darcy leaned back into his chair, spine straight, hands folded in his lap.

“What about them?”

“They differ from that of other agents.” Julianna leaned slightly at the waist to set her things in the open chair so she could gesture with her hands at will. “Instead of listing their specialty it states that they are a compulsory recruit. I find the differentiation to be discriminatory.”

Darcy’s brow lifted towards his hairline. “Why is that?”

One of her ears fell lopsided and kicked backwards. She could have easily handled the Commander, but Owen at her side glaring at her was more distraction than she had bargained for. “I understand that their working here is the clause of a conviction, but this isn’t a prison. They aren’t prisoners. You’ve given them the rank of agent, but you’ve refused to acknowledge them in the same way as people who should be their peers. The distinction implies that you don’t intend to take them or their performance seriously, and opens them up to prejudice from their co-workers. Most of the compulsory agents you have recruited are notorious enough without it being constantly displayed. Their working here is not a punishment, it’s supposed to a second chance, but If you continue to treat them like criminals, they will continue to act like criminals.”

Julianna’s conclusion left the room in silence as Darcy considered her proposal. He rubbed a hand idly over his beard as he reviewed her words and the possible outcomes of her request. “And you think this change will help get Agent Bell under control?”

Her ears pushed to attention, as she used one hand to smooth the lanyard over her chest, even though it wasn’t out of place. “It is not only Agent Bell that I have come to speak on behalf of. Compulsory recruits make up ten percent of the C.A.F’s support forces, and thirty percent of its military forces. The figures seem small on paper, but the efficiency of this institution would be lax without them. I am only stating a small change in perspective would make a notable difference.”

RE: Public Relations [Closed] - saronym - 02-11-2017

Owen had opened his mouth prepared to argue back but Darcy anticipated it and gave him the ‘don’t’ look. That same look he’d seen from his godfather many times since childhood. Acting out while his parents weren’t watching and getting that look from Darcy. His mouth snapped shut and his jaw flexed as he clenched his teeth together while Julianna revealed the subject of her meeting.

He had turned to the side to face Julianna which put Darcy at the corner of his vision. Julianna in the center of the show. Two was practically an audience and that seemed to bother her. He folded his arms over his chest and frowned deeply when the subject of the identification of compulsory agents was discussed. If not for years of training in discipline, Owen wouldn’t have been able to hold his tongue until the end.

Before Darcy could give his decision, Owen moved to comment. “There’s a fatal flaw in your logic Miss Maxillion.” He started taking an ominous step towards her. “They are prisoners. They are serving a sentence for serious crimes. If they were not in this building working for us they would be in a prison. Some of them in federal institutions with no visitation rights. Agent Bell being one of them.”

His nostrils flare and he unfolded his arms, “Agent Bell intercepted and pirated a multi-million dollar military asset carrying a deadly explosive payload. Flew it into a public venue where thousands were in attendance. Civilians. Children. Police officers.”

Unlike Julianna, Owen felt no need to fiddle or adjust himself throughout his speech, but barrelled on to make his points. “What he did embarrassed this institution and called our integrity into question. Even worse, he endangered the lives of thousands of civilians had something gone wrong that day. He was accordingly charged and prosecuted before a jury of his peers to the full extent of the law in this country. His rights aren’t being infringed upon. He is a convicted felon and should be treated as such until he serves his time. Some of the compulsory agents you purport to speak for are grateful for the privilege it is to serve their sentence with us. The freedom it affords them over those afforded to traditional prisoners. Agent Bell would benefit from a reminder of the privileges he does have and can lose if his behavior doesn’t remain up to standard. If he is unhappy with the identification tags, perhaps he would prefer an orange jumpsuit and a federal cot to sleep on?”

Owen made his point with increasing anger. His voice didn’t raise in volume so much as intensity as he argued his position. He took a deep breath inwards and let it seep back out through his nose to calm himself. At that point, he did pass his hand over the front of his uniform as if to smooth invisible wrinkles. It did more to soothe the ire that had been brought out of him.

The topic was personal. Personal to his own family as it reminded him of his recently deceased father who had espoused all his life how grateful he was to serve a compulsory sentence which allowed him to marry the woman he loved and raise a family. The wounds of losing his father were too recent and the subject of Renton’s unhappiness with a simple uniform standard was salt to the wound though it shouldn’t have been.

RE: Public Relations [Closed] - megs - 02-11-2017

This is exactly why Julianna had been content to keep the conversation between herself and the Commander. She could sense the Brigadier General’s need to make a comment before he even spoke up. It was in the way he watched her, in that stubborn line of his mouth. Her gaze darted upwards and fixed on Owen as he began to speak; she laced her fingers in front of her thighs to mask the way she wanted to ball them into fists. She took a step back to mimic the one he took towards her. It was a prey-like move even though she did not see him as a predator. She just preferred a specific distance between herself and people she found unpleasant. Julianna listened to his counter, ears at attention and her tail still at her feet.

‘Agent Bell being one of them…’

Silver furred appendages twitched atop her head and her frown deepened. She attempted to interrupt him. “If we could perhaps for a moment discontinue focusing on Agent Bell…” It was fruitless as he continued to talk over her with an obvious and intense passion for the subject. She exhaled sharply through her nose and quieted, allowing herself to be run over by the General’s outrage. Her expression turned dubious when he cited the embarrassment that the Covenant suffered as a matter of Renton’s exploits. Hardly reason enough to sentence someone so harshly in her mind, it smoothed again when he noted the potential for tragedy. A hypothetical that had gone unrealized, but she didn’t want to come off as inconsiderate.

Julianna was unaware of Owen’s family history. She didn’t know the reason that lent to his desire to be the hard place with which her argument was trapped. Darcy being the rock. She looked to the Commander for assistance, but he only seemed to shrug his shoulders, interested in how she would reply to the irascible man standing before her.

Eyes went back to Owen. “Agent Hart,” she began, purposely dropping his title as a gentle reminder that he did not have an authority over her. “While I am sure there are spaces in which your opinion is warranted, and desired, I do not find this particular situation to be one of them.”

Darcy leaned forward on his desk to hide his mouth behind his hands. He may have been grinning. A glint in his eyes that neither would noticed with the way they were staring one another down suggested his entertainment.

Julianna unlaced her fingers, and stepped closer to Owen. Closing the distance she had been so fond of just moments before. She leaned past him, a dip at the waist, a graceful curve to the line of her spine as she collected her belongings from the chair she had left them in. When she righted herself, she tucked tablet and clutch under her arm and used her free hand to push a wave of dark hair over her shoulder. She adjusted the hem of the peach colored blouse that so annoyed him. “Furthermore, I don’t believe you will see the results you wish to in these felons if your only method of control is to dangle the prospect of their freedom over their heads. Though you may not like it, there is a give and take to punishment. Even in prisons.”

Her tail appeared behind her shoulders, swaying to and fro in an even pace as she turned her body and her attention back to the Commander, no longer interested in arguing with Owen. He cleared his throat, pulling away from his hands and leaning back in the chair. Shoulders square against the back of it. Ears twitched as the woman watched him expectantly.

“I will take your suggestion into consideration, Miss Maxillion.” Amber eyes switched between the two employees standing before him.

“Thank you for your time, Commander Weatherfare,” she said in way of gratitude and farewell. She nodded her head politely before turning on one colorful heel and letting herself out of Darcy’s office.

As soon as she was gone and the door closed with a click behind her, Darcy looked solidly to Owen. Now, he wore an expectant look; fully prepared for the complaints that were bound to follow his meeting with the PR agent.