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Public Relations [Closed] - Printable Version

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RE: Public Relations [Closed] - saronym - 02-21-2017

Owen was aware of that tiny step back she took although her body moved he found her opinion on the subject of the identification tags less pliable. She was so unmovable as to suggest that his opinion was the one that didn’t count. He took another stalking step forward and his voice lowered in volume but not in intensity.

“Again, you seem to misunderstand military culture, Miss Maxillion. As the Brigadier General there are no spaces her in which my opinion on military standards is not warranted. It is my opinion that you should spend your time understanding this organization and coaching Bell in assimilating himself rather than trying to bend our regulations and tradition on his whimsies.”

Julianna moved closer to him to gather her things sending a waft of sweet perfume his way. He was left staring down her back to the curve of hips and the sight annoyed him. How dare she be so insubordinate towards him and yet so attractive. He averted his eyes not out of politeness but out of anger. When she turned back towards Darcy, he didn’t budge but returned his heated gaze to her profile. His eyes tracked her as she exited the room. When the door snapped shut he rounded on his godfather.

“You cannot be seriously considering that ridiculous suggestion. She is coddling him. How can you expect Bell to behave the command of his superiors when you’re entertaining her pulling strings for him above their heads? This is absurd!”

Though the man he addressed was his godfather, he was foremost, at least while in uniform, Owen’s commanding officer. Owen’s tone and manner of address were highly out of line in consideration of Darcy’s authority over him but his anger had gotten the best of him and he forgot his place.

RE: Public Relations [Closed] - megs - 02-21-2017

Julianna ruminated on the interaction with Owen as she made her way out of Central Command. She thought on the way he had taken that second step towards her. Deliberately intending to intimidate and lord an authority he didn’t have over her. That lecture. It grated on her nerves. She hoped that Commander Weatherfare sincerely considered her proposal, but for the most part she was left agitated over Agent Hart. Ear twitching, tail swishing-ly agitated. No matter how well she could police her face, which was currently a bland neutral of displeasure, her other features were wont to do as they pleased when she wasn’t paying attention to them. Her heels clicked an angry rhythm on the tile as she fumed.

Checking her watch, she stepped into the elevator. She was ahead of schedule. The time she had designated for her meeting with the Commander had been cut short by her annoyance with the Brigadier General. Good. That was fine. She could get more coffee. She needed more coffee. Her heart leapt into her throat and her shoulders tightened as the elevator began its descent. Julianna stood near the back and closed her eyes, and sorted through ideas that would perhaps make nice with Agent Hart.

She exited the elevator to the sound of her name being called. Ears fell briefly to the crown of her head as she looked for the source. Hearing it again, ears swiveled in the appropriate direction and she turned to find, what could only be described as, a small child pushing towards her. Silver furred tail appeared to sway curiously behind her shoulders as she surveyed the copper colored ears and tail of the girl who stopped in front of her.

“Miss Maxillion!” The child beamed, clearly pleased to have found her, even though Julianna couldn’t fathom why. She couldn’t have been more than twelve or thirteen and was dressed in a Covenant uniform that made her look like a toy soldier.

Julianna blinked down at her, tail falling to curl upwards without touching the floor. One of her ears fell lopsided. She lifted her tablet and clutch to hold them closer against her chest. “Is there something I can help you with?”

The girl paused, one ear falling to mimic Julianna’s. Her striped tail began moving nervously behind her knees. “Oh!” All at once she straightened, face falling into an appropriately serious expression as she lifted one hand in a proper salute.

“Private Juniper Bartelli, ma’am!” she explained with practiced intensity. “Intelligence Analyst.” As soon as she dropped her hands, her posture softened and she was smiling again. “I’m looking for Agent Bell!” Juniper sounded very excited by the prospect. She held up the notebook that she’d brought along with her into Julianna’s line of sight. “It’s his turn to try and solve my new code. I haven’t seen him this morning and people told me to ask you.” The notebook dropped back to her side, and Juniper cocked her head, grinning up at Julianna. “They told me you’re his new babysitter,” she laughed.

Julianna smiled, before she went to explain, “that’s not quite accurate…”

“Oh, I know,” Juniper interjected, pushing up her wide-rimmed glasses with one hand. “But the department thinks it’s funny. Have you seen him?”

“No, I haven’t.” Julianna pulled one hand away from her tablet to place it against one of Juniper’s shoulders and steer her in a specific direction. “But I’m sure we can find him together.”

Darcy smoothed his hand through his hair and leaned back in his chair, watching his godson with some amusement. More than acquainted with the way the Brigadier General forgot himself when he was angry. Or dealing with any sort of strong emotion that he didn’t know how to handle. Which was most of them.

He turned back and forth in his chair, lips pursed as to display that he was actually considering Julianna’s proposal. He let Owen rant as he wanted, before the swaying stopped and the smile faded. “General,” he warned icily, making a note of Owen’s tone. “You won’t like hearing it again, but your opinion on this matter is unwarranted.” Darcy pushed at papers on his desk disinterestedly, before standing. “So, yes, I am considering it despite your adamant ideation that I should not.” Darcy sighed, and rounded his desk, moving close enough to clap a hand on his godson’s shoulder. He was grinning again, no longer interested in talking about the PR manager's proposal.

“Despite your brilliant lecture on military culture you know you have no authority over Miss Maxillion, right?” He used his hand on his shoulder to steer Owen towards the door.

“It was kind of cute though, watching you try to intimidate her like that.” Darcy laughed, opening his door and all but pushing the Brigadier General out of it. He crossed the threshold as well and closed the door behind him.

“Samantha.” He abandoned Owen to move towards to his assistant, hovering over her and examining his schedule on the desk over her shoulder. “Do I have time to take an early lunch today?”

While Samantha hummed, her ears fell lopsided and she flipped through the secondary planner that lay open on her desk, Lilian picked up her own set of various planners and file folders.

“Brigadier General.” Lilian’s modulated tone was husky and attractive, naturally, but it didn’t help that she harbored a pretty decent crush on her boss. “I’ve compiled those correspondences you requested.” Her organizational and time-management skills were worthy of commendation, which would explain why she was still in Owen’s service. She was also pretty. A tall, and curvy brunette that looked very nice in her fitted blue dress. “And you have an open schedule until two-thirty.”

“Good!” Darcy boomed, rounding on Owen once more. “He can join me for lunch, then.” He leaned close enough to say under his breath with a devious smile. “And his mother.”

RE: Public Relations [Closed] - saronym - 04-10-2017

Owen stood stiffly with his fists balled at his sides. His blood pounded a heavy rhythm between his ears. He thought he could even feel the pulsing of the vein along his forehead. He certainly did not like hearing it repeated that his opinion wasn’t wanted or even considered important. In response to Darcy’s warning, Owen’s nostrils flared and he set his jaw as if to refuse to speak to the other man.

Though he knew he was being childish, he found no motivation to alter his behavior or police his frustration. He let his white hot indignation rush over him taking some comfort in it after being briefly reminded of his father and his still unresolved grief. Anger was safer.

Darcy continued to taunt Owen reminding him that he lacked authority over the pesky contractor. He opened his mouth to protest that she nonetheless owed him respect due his station but was being pushed through the open door. The gazes of waiting executive assistants turned to him and he did not feel the need to pursue the line of argument in front of them. Especially when it risked further reprimand by Darcy.

His attention was captured by his assistant who, as usual, was trying her best to appear attractive. At times, he encouraged the behavior, though he wasn’t in the slightest bit interested in the woman, as he so loved to have his ego stroked. His dark mood left him unamused and unwilling to play a game of flirtation. He merely held his hand out for the compendium she’d mentioned completing as Darcy aggressively welcomed Owen to what was sure to be a punishment lunch.

Owen fixed his assistant with a hard, angry stare that suggested he would have words with her over announcing his schedule in such an inopportune fashion for him. “Great. Thank you, Miss Tiesel. I’ll meet you downstairs, sir.” He said tersely, before turning away from the group to head for the elevators.

He didn’t wait for Darcy to follow. In the elevator, he punched the arrows signifying closing doors over and over again desperate to be alone with himself for a few moments. He slumped back against the wall of the elevator and sighed heavily as it whisked him downwards.The speed was enough to cause the sensation of butterflies in his stomach. Chewing at his cheek he stared down at the polished brass on his chest as he rubbed his temple.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, but he remained in that posture for a few more moments before pushing himself off the wall. He exited the elevator and came to a sudden full stop to find himself staring his favorite agent. Juniper. She was smiling up at someone as she spoke and her expression drew a small smile from Owen. A clerk pushing a mail cart blocked Owen’s view of Juniper’s conversation partner.

His excitement spoiled some when the clerk moved aside and revealed Juniper to be speaking with just the woman who had left him in low spirits. By second nature Owen mechanically saluted Juniper before approaching. It was military custom for those of higher rank to exchange salutes with those of lower rankings - even should they be technically children.

“Private Bartelli.” He greeted her very seriously, but quickly threw his arm out for her to come hug him. “I see you’ve met Miss Maxillion.” he fixed Julianna with the empty gaze of diplomacy. He’d play nice in front of Juniper who he had tucked under his arm and against his side like they were familiar pals.

“She’s our resident personal relations expert. Pretty fancy, huh?” He squeezed Juniper’s arm with each emphasis and leaned a little to speak to the girl behind his hand. “She’s Agent Bell’s babysitter.” He managed to whisper without lowering his voice any.

“Let me guess... you must have codes for Agent Bell.” Owen smiled down at Juniper with kindness and something like adoration in his eyes. The Brigadier General had been easily charmed by the intelligent young analyst and saw himself as an advocate (and perhaps even a mentor) for the child.

“Let me also guess that Agent Bell is not where he is supposed to be." He spared a pointed look at Julianna. Just the slightest of suggestions that Renton wouldn't be missing had she not spent her time wasting breath about IDs in Central Command.

At just that moment, Ishara Hart had entered the building and sent a text to her lunch date, Darcy, on her way to the elevators.

>First floor main elevators. Is your meeting over?
>Should I come up?
>I'm starving!

As she completed her texts she looked up hearing the familiar voice of her youngest son. How serendipitous.

"Owen!" She called with unnecessary volume. It wasn't as if the main floor lobby was a busy street corner requiring yelling to be heard. It drew the attention of not only Owen but everyone in the vicinity. Owen's eyes were locked on his mother's. They were literally making eye contact, yet she threw her hand in the air and waved excitedly before rushing over.

Owen blinked slowly regretting having stopped to chat with Juniper. Though he loved the girl, he wasn't particularly excited to have his mother bestowing her affection upon him in the middle of the lobby. Nonetheless, the dutiful son moved to greet her, "Hello mother." He said with a practiced sort of patience. He hugged her with one arm and bent down to offer her his face so she could kiss both of his cheeks. Clearly a ritual greeting.

The remarkable height difference between mother and son - along with differences in hair and eye coloring - was more than enough evidence for any stranger to conclude that the Brigadier General took after his father.

"You're coming to lunch aren't you?" She asked as she fiddled with one of the decorations on his chest, setting it straight though it wasn't crooked. It still unsettled Ishara how much Owen looked like his father in uniform. Sometimes her son seemed like a ghost to her.

"Yes mother, I am coming to lunch." He pushed her hands away. "Let's wait for Darcy at the restaurant, shall we?" He offered trying to turn his mother around with a hand to her shoulder.

She twisted free and moved towards the woman and girl Owen had been speaking to when she noticed him. "Oh, hold on a minute. Introduce me to your ..." She hesitated taking in the stark age differences between the women. Green eyes flicked from the brightly dressed woman to the uniformed girl. "Um, colleagues?"

Owen sighed and turned back to the group of three women. “Mom, this is Julianna Maxillion, personal relations. She’s the new consult -” He was interrupted by his mother taking away the conversation.

“Oh! The lady Darcy hired to fix the whole mess with that one hacker guy?” She offered both hands in greeting and even pulled Julianna to her to plant warm kisses on the woman’s cheeks just as she'd done to her son. “Ishara Hart, I’m Owen’s mom. Aren’t you just lovely!” She gushed over Julianna backing up to take in her outfit though she didn't let go of her hand. Ishara turned over Julianna’s left hand and held it up for Owen. “And single too, Owen.”

Owen shifted on his feet, pursed his lips, and stared at the slim brown hand being presented to him. “That’s very nice mom.” He gently confiscated Julianna’s hand from his mother’s grasp. His fingers easily encircled her slender wrist. It seemed that the Harts were content to manipulate Julianna’s body as they saw fit.

Ishara was already turning towards Juniper. She stared at the young girl with her hands on her hips. “Why is this child in a military uniform? Is this a child soldier?” She demanded loudly.

The entire room lobby seemed to go still with the line of questioning.

Owen froze. Julianna’s wrist was still in his hand and he glanced around the lobby to see who had heard his mother broach the taboo subject. He looked to Julianna, a complete stranger to his mother, for assistance. How did he explain Juniper?

RE: Public Relations [Closed] - megs - 04-17-2017

Juniper’s eyes briefly broke contact with Julianna to the presence of a figure moving towards her. A quick double take and she brightened, a fleeting smile before she policed her expression and returned the respectful gesture. “Brigadier General,” she replied, and as soon as she had done so she was dropping her hand and practically skipping to Owen’s side. She curled an arm around his waist and leaned into the embrace, giggling as he pointed out Julianna. The women stood where Juniper had left her, hands had returned to the position against her thighs; gripping her belongings. She had the decency to smile politely at the general despite her previous annoyance with him.

The young agent nodded to confirm the obvious, she had indeed met Miss Maxillion in her search for Agent Bell. “That’s what I said!” Juniper expressed with a giggle at the continued babysitter joke. “She did not like it,” the child continued playfully with a lift of her brows as if Julianna were not still standing within earshot. Juniper’s ears rotated towards the back of her head and her striped tail swayed excitedly behind her back as she joked with Owen.

Juniper held up the book again at the mention of codes. A heavy looking journal with thick paper and a dark blue cover. Various markers and notes stuck out between the pages. Clearly the two had been playing this game of exchange for quite some time. “He wasn’t in tech wing or the communications wing, which is surprising because they had bagels for breakfast this morning.” Juniper giggled again, but the glance Owen passed towards Julianna at the mention of Ren’s whereabouts did not go unnoticed by the young girl.

In response, Julianna’s expression had faded into something bland that still managed to portray a sense of exasperation. The stillness in Julianna’s ears and tail caused Juniper’s tail to curl towards her spine in reverence of the obvious tension.

In the Central Command offices, Darcy quickly returned Ishara’s texts. He suggested she say where she was and he would be right down. He didn’t know if he could handle having the excited and social woman distracting his officer’s right now.

Two sets of fluffy ears swiveled at the sound of someone calling for the general. Two tails began to sway in interest as they watched the redhead approach him, and their little group. Juniper moved closer to Julianna when Ishara moved into the space directly in front of her son for greetings and affection. The Veridian’s watched the exchange quietly from their side-by-side positions. Twitching ears projected their amusement, though they were entertained for entirely different reasons.

Julianna’s ears fell, almost in disappointment, when Owen quickly tried to steer his mother away from them. She’d had in inexplicable desire to be introduced to the woman. Appendages flickered to attention again and Julianna found herself smiling when Ishara turned right back around and demanded to be introduced.

Tucking her belongings beneath her arm she allowed her hands to be taken up in Ishara’s, she leaned into the cheeky kisses, returning the gesture in much the same manner. Julianna laughed airily as Ishara commanded the conversation, glancing down at her peach colored heels and murmuring 'thank you's for the compliments.

She almost reclaimed her hand when her supposed availability was brought to attention. She cleared her throat and moved to take a small step back, and before she could do anything to stop it, Owen now had control of her hand. She tried not to frown at him, fingers almost curling into a fist. Though the contrast of his fingers around her wrist was pretty to look at.

Juniper’s position with the C.A.F having distracted them both, meant that Owen still controlled Julianna’s hand for the time it took them to look at one another, and then back to Juniper and Ishara. There was the slightest of pressures around her wrist, and when she looked to Owen again he seemed to be asking her for help with his mother. Her brow furrowed up at him, as if to suggest he was ridiculous for requesting anything of her.

“I’m not a soldier, ma’am,” Juniper piped up cheerfully. Apparently, she didn’t need the adult’s help for the particular subject. “I’m an analyst and I work with codes,” her tail swayed as she pushed up her glasses. “It’s kind of like an extracurricular or like...an internship. I’m really smart so they let me come here and stuff and I get credit in school.” She beamed up at Ishara, having no bashfulness in bragging about her own intelligence.

Stepping out the elevator, Darcy eyes seemed to immediately hone on a gathering that he imagined could only result in some sort of conflict. Ishara and Juniper. Owen and Julianna. He wasn’t particularly fond of either of those pairings, so he hung back and watched the scene.

RE: Public Relations [Closed] - saronym - 04-22-2017

Owen frowned back at Julianna when she proved useless in dissolving the tension. In that moment he seemed to realize he had remained holding onto her wrist. His entire hand wrapped around her such that his thumb overlaid his middle finger. Such a slim wrist. And soft.

He jerked his hand away as if she had been the one holding him against his will. Quickly he cast his eyes towards his mother and Juniper. Anywhere but at Julianna. Caught holding on to her. How embarrassing. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet as he watched his mother and Juniper interact. The child was doing more for taking care of his mother’s faux pas than the public relations expert.

Perfect.

Ishara nodded sympathetically with a warm motherly smile that dominated her features. She hummed under her breath and frowned before bringing Juniper into a hug that crushed the child against her chest. “Well, I suppose that’s fine with me.” She chimed as if the situation had anything to do with her. She pulled the girl away and held her face. “Just so long as you’re happy and benefit in school from working here.”

She poked Juniper’s nose with her index finger. “Don’t you let those mean generals take advantage of you. Make Owen buy you sweets and give you plenty of breaks.”

Owen rolled his eyes from where he stood next to Julianna, “She is not under my direct comm -”

Without looking at her son, Ishara lifted a finger and cut him off. “Hush, Owen. Don’t interrupt when it doesn’t pertain to you, dear. We’ve talked about this, honey.”

Owen snapped his mouth shut with a sharp click of his teeth together and folded his arms across his chest. He could feel heat rising to his face and warming his cheeks. His mother would find multitudes of ways to embarrass him, of course, in front of Julianna. He was sure the pesky P.R. girl was really enjoying the display.

Ishara’s attention had never left Juniper. She had taken to straightening the girl’s uniform. “And what’s your name, darling? How old are you? Are you in the military school here? What do your parents do?”

Movement from the elevators at the top of Owen’s eyes caught his attention. A wave of relief passed over him when he saw his godfather step out. He clapped his hands together loudly, “Oh great, Darcy’s here. Let’s go eat, mom.”

Ishara gazed over Juniper’s head at the man standing in the elevators. She merely smiled at him before looking back to Juniper to answer her questions.

RE: Public Relations [Closed] - megs - 04-22-2017

She frowned at the way he released her, even though she didn’t necessarily want to be contained by him. He let her go like she was something foul, or hot to the touch that he was loathe to even have his hands on. Her arm fell back to her side with an audible slap against the canvas-like material of her skirt. Her brow furrowed in what was almost a frown; she didn’t know why she was so bothered by the general’s reaction to her just then.

Julianna also didn’t care for the pointed look he gave her regarding Ishara’s conversation with Juniper. Owen continued to misunderstand the outlines of her position with the C.A.F, and she personally thought it was just fine that Juniper could handle the situation on her own.

Juniper appeared to be star-struck by Ishara’s matronly nature. Sucked into her warmth and her gentle tone, something that was severely lacking in her life on the day-to-day. Juniper giggled, and wrapped her arms around Ishara’s back, tail swaying happily as she was hugged. Her ears twitched playfully when her nose was poked, springing to attention as she nodded eagerly towards the red head’s instructions. “I won’t!” Her tail was moving a mile a minute. More akin to an excited dog than a feline. Her enamored smile was wide enough to show of her pointed teeth.

As for the P.R. agent’s entertainment: Owen wasn’t wrong.

Julianna’s ears fell flat, protruding off either side of her head as Ishara lifted that one finger to scold her son without even looking at him. Green eyes widened in surprise, and she couldn’t help but laugh at how easily he had been shut down. She cut off the noise as quickly as possible, clearing her throat and smoothing her face out again. Deliberately avoiding him with her eyes, but didn’t bother to hide the entertained sway of her tail as it crossed back and forth behind her shoulders. More so amused, that his mother had reprimanded him for the same thing she had that very morning, and which was likely the cause for his sour mood.

The analyst seemed to have no issue with Ishara fixing her uniform even though there was nothing wrong with it. She was passive under the nit-picking as she answered Ishara’s question. “My name’s Juniper, ma’am,” she said brightly. “Juniper Bartelli and I’m thirteen. I’m a Freshman at the Covenant academy because I skipped eighth grade.” The child paused when she reached the question about her parents. Her tail dropped to the floor as her ears pinned backwards, momentarily. “Uhm…” Juniper looked away from Ishara and upwards towards Owen, she could have been looking to him for assistance or comfort. She turned her head enough to look at Julianna before her attention returned to Ishara. “They...died,” she answered finally with a flat expression.

Being Veridian himself, Darcy was quite familiar with the reactionary states of ears and tails. Though he had been content to lean against the wall and smile at Ishara when he acknowledge him, the simultaneous fall of two sets of ears was enough to prompt him into moving towards the clump of people in the middle of the lobby. He saluted Owen, and Juniper when he was close enough to do so out of habit, before settling a hand between Ishara’s shoulder blades. “Sorry, about the wait,” he said, clearly indicating that the gathering shoulder be drawing to a close. “Some last minute paperwork in command. Maxilliion, Bartelli? I believe you have a wayward technician to find?” He raised he brows at them.

RE: Public Relations [Closed] - saronym - 04-25-2017

Ishara seemed to enjoy giving some motherly love as much as the child seemed to enjoy receiving it. She liked the way the girl’s tail swayed with how pleased she was. Ishara finally let her hands drop away from the girl as she rattled off her name, age, and school. She cupped her hands together and held them in front of her making a neat display of herself.

“Wow! That is so impressive.” She complimented Juniper without having any of the fake-ness that often came from adults when they praised children. She was genuinely impressed.

Her face fell into something more sympathetic, sculpted brows furrowing over green eyes and she hummed a sad sound in the back of her throat. “I am very sorry to hear that, Juniper. I know they would be proud of you if they were here today to see what a fine young lady you are.” She gave the girl an encouraging smile and touched just beneath her chin with her index finger. “Keep your head up, and you let my son know if you need anything at all. And he’ll take care of you. Won’t you, Owen.”

She turned and raised her brows in warning to her very grumpy looking son.

Owen tried to work his expression into something more pleasant at the very least neutral. Owen had been in the middle of giving Julianna an annoyed glare at the laugh she let escape when his mother corrected him. Julianna was avoiding returning his gaze. He didn’t seem to notice or care, he’d glare a hole in her head if he had to. Except his mother was policing him. So he gave Ishara a half smile.

“Of course, mother. I will see to it that Juniper’s needs are met.”

“Exceeded.” Ishara corrected.

“Yes, of course, mom.” He somehow managed a level of patience with his mother that he’d never exercised in any other capacity. It was all reserved for the energetic redheaded woman who seemed to demand it anyways. As if she’d tolerate anything less than perfect obedience from her son.

His posture stiffened up and he saluted his godfather with a detached coolness. He was still angry at the man and that little haughtiness in his show of respect was all he could do with the emotion. All he dared to do, really, lest he be put in his place again.

Ishara by contrast visibly relaxed when Darcy touched her. She half turned towards him and smiled. A comfortable look shared between nearly life-long friends. “Oh don’t worry about the wait. It was nothing, Owen was just introducing me to his very sweet colleagues. It’s nice to see some femininity around this dull place full of scowling and serious officers.”

Darcy was indicating with his face that Julianna and Juniper should dismiss themselves, but Ishara moved a step towards them and pressed their hands each in turn. “It was lovely meeting you both. Maybe us girls can get together for lunch sometime? Handsome frowny officers make for nice lunch dates, sometimes, but I prefer pretty girls.” She grinned mischievously.

Owen blinked slowly, “Mom, please.” There was more than a hint of complaint in his voice.

Ishara moved back towards Darcy and forcibly linked her arm through his. “Oh hush and buy your mother some lunch. And don't be stingy. Buy these two pretty girls lunch sometime too.”

Owen hushed up just as requested and held his arm out for his mother who would undoubtedly forcibly take it anyways. With his free hand he gave Juniper a more playful salute followed by a wink before giving his move coordinates for their ongoing virtual chess game. Virtual by virtue of being held only in their heads. “Queenside knight to F6.”

That was the last thing he said before he was whisked away by his insistent mother.

RE: Public Relations [Closed] - megs - 04-28-2017

The meeting was finished. Between Darcy’s direct orders, and Ishara chipping away at Owen’s patience, it was a good idea for them to disperse. Julianna was polite with her farewells, even when it came to the Brigadier General, but she was less enthusiastic than the child about seeing them off. Juniper was still elated on the attention she received from Ishara. Ears fully upright and her tail swaying smoothly. Grinning once more as she waved the trio off, despite previous mention of her parents.

The P.R. agent flipped open her tablet . Fingers moved swiftly across the digital keyboard, taking notes as she waited for Juniper to get her fill of goodbyes. The idea of Owen treating her to lunch was laughable. The notion bounced around her in her head and would entertain Julianna, very likely for the rest of the day. What would an occasion like that even be like? They could hardly suffer one another’s presence.

The two girls left behind watched as Ishara left arm-in-arm with both Darcy and her son. Julianna wondered as to the relationship between Darcy and Ishara, and perhaps even Darcy and Owen, that made the three of them seem so close. Upon hearing Owen’s final words to the young girl, Julianna cocked her head as Juniper’s face screwed up in intense thought. Her brown eyes swept towards the floor, before lifting upwards in a perfect half-circle. Her brow had furrowed over the bridge of her nose. “Oh,” she exclaimed suddenly as the pieces fell together in her head. “He wasn’t supposed to do that! That ruins my whole strategy.”

Julianna’s ears fell lopsided. “He wasn’t supposed to do what?”

Juniper agitatedly ran a hand over one of her twitching ears. “Move his knight there,” she said as if it offered any explanation to Julianna.

“You’re talking about... Chess?”

Juniper answered her question with a vigorous nod. “We have a game going.” Juniper lightly tapped the side of her temple. Julianna hummed her understanding, but didn’t ask any more questions. She didn’t have enough of a grasp on the game to care to inquire any more about it. Trading codes with Agent Bell and playing mental games of Chess with Agent Hart. It was hard to deny the child was certainly a genius. Julianna tried not to feel self-conscious about her own intelligence in the face of a child prodigy and two men with their own niche abilities.

“Let’s go find Renton,” she suggested. “And then we’ll find some lunch of our own.”

RE: Public Relations [Closed] - saronym - 05-04-2017

Not a moment after the trio had exited the building for their lunch did Owen come back inside at a trot towards Julianna and Juniper.

He raised his eyebrows as if in warning and jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards the door. “I found your charge. He’s out there giving an interview to, I think, CNN.”

If one didn’t know better the thought that Renton giving an interview represented Juliana’s failure to manage him pleased Owen, or amused him. As soon as he delivered the news he turned his back on the girls and waved over his shoulder to them.


Outside Renton was giving a gleaming smile to a reporter and camera.

The peppy, perky, bleach blonde reporter prompted Renton, trying to catch him uttering the next controversial soundbite that would circulate for the week.

“What’s it like for you being a compulsory enlistee working alongside contractors and traditional enlistees? Is there any tension? How are you settling in Mr. Bell?” She gave him a sufficient number of questions and thrust the microphone in his face for the answer.

Renton made as to appear bashful and even put his hand over his mouth. “I like the way you put that microphone in my face, Miss Moore.” He joked.

The reporter was thrown off by his fellatio innuendo for a moment before she laughed politely and recovered herself. “You have access to droves of highly classified information working here at the CAF, don’t you? Do you find that this is a source of constant temptation?”

Renton’s laugh was more derisive when the microphone was presented to him. “Any hacker with enough skill would have access to the exact same amount of information working on the inside as they would have hacking in from the outside, Miss Moore. I'm just glad to have a pretty badge with holographics on it. My main temptation is the pastries in Central Command. So flaky. So buttery.” He held his belly dramatically and made a kind of curt 'm' sound in his throat.

The reporter skirted over the bullshit dodging Renton tried and quickly asked, "So did I hear you admitting to hacking into the CAF?"

Renton smiled again, "That's what I've been accused of." He twisted his badge back and forth putting the shifting decoration on display like a child showing off his new toy to a jealous friend. "So I suppose it's up to the judge to decide what I am and am not guilty of."

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

Julianna turned to the sound of Owen’s voice. He didn’t stay any longer than to make his announcement, before he was taking off again. Her hand tightened around her tablet, and she only stared, stone-faced at the back of Owen’s head until it disappeared. She couldn’t see his stupid smug face, but she could almost imagine it.

“Juniper, why don’t you go back to your workstation and I will come find you with Agent Bell?” She smiled down at the child, who nodded eagerly, knowing full well that Julianna wasn’t pleased with Renton.

“Okay! See you later then!”

Julianna continued smiling until Juniper disappeared. When the girl was out of sight her face fell into a blank mask and she rounded on her heel. Her steps were sharp and even as she made her way in the same direction in which Owen had retreated. Her tail twitched in such a way that made her walk more like a warpath.

It wasn’t difficult for her to locate Renton and the crowd he had gathered by talking to the reporter. A CNN news van drew attention enough on it’s own; but a high profile criminal certainly upped the ante. Her pace quickened as she moved towards the throng. Full steam ahead, Julianna pushed through the throng of people without care or apology, until she breached the barricade of bodies and was right at Renton’s side.

“Agent Bell can not answer questions while his trial is still on-going,” she barked, firmly. She clearly had no care as to whether she was interrupting, having heard the line of questioning that the reporter was choosing to bite into. Her ears pushed to attention, her mouth pressed together in a thin line. One of her hands curled around Renton’s biceps as if she was ready and willing to pull him away from the scene by force. “He will be making no further comment on this issue, at this time.”

RE: Public Relations [Closed] - saronym - 05-12-2017

The excitement climaxed when the brightly dressed P.R. agent pushed through the crowd to confront the maliciously pushy reporter. Renton was surprised at how physically aggressive Julianna could be when she wanted. She held herself authoritatively and gripped his bicep in a way that commanded his compliance.

In short he was impressed. And maybe slightly aroused.

And so, he flashed a toothy smile at Julianna and he let himself be whisked away by his new hero.

The reporter wasn’t so easily shut down and pursued the pair. “Miss Maxilion, you are the new Public Relations Agent hired to handle Mr. Bell’s public image? How is Renton settling in at the CAF? Is he following orders? Or are we to take your position here as a sign that the size of this scandal has yet to be revealed?”

Renton purposefully held back, waiting to see if Julianna would respond to the reporter and ,if she did, how she would respond.

RE: Public Relations [Closed] - megs - 05-12-2017

Julianna had all but apprehended Renton away from the scene. Her hand still clutched his arm as she half-dragged him back towards the entrance to the building. The reporter followed, eager for a quote or a sound bite, anything she could twist and coil later. When the spotlight was shone on her, Julianna halted, and turned to face the crew, she finally released Renton’s arm, but she continued to stand in front of him, almost protectively, even though she was shorter.

Her chin lifted upwards, and she glanced down her nose at the microphone that had been shoved into her face. “Settling into a new job is always complicated, Ms. Moore.” There was something threatening about her words despite her pleasant tone. “We’re working hard to ensure our time spent with the C.A.F. is productive. But of course, we can’t all be as charming and charismatic as Agent Bell.” Julianna let her chin drop to lock eyes with the reporter. The P.R. agent was making it clear that Ms. Moore could soon find her own job on the line if she continued to annoy her. Julianna’s ears perked to attention and she smiled, sudden and bright.

“Thank you for your time, Ms. Moore.” She chimed, as if they had not been hounded by the nosy reporter. She turned, shifting that bright smile on Renton, as she linked her arm through his and led him away from the group and back inside the building.

When the were out of sight and out of earshot, she rounded on the young technician. “What,” she insisted, ears pinning backwards, tail fluffing. “Was that?" She pointed a finger towards the door and the reporter outside of it as she made her demand.

RE: Public Relations [Closed] - saronym - 05-16-2017

Renton could easily see over Julianna’s head from where he stood behind her. She was almost guarding him like a loyal dog protecting its owner. Or a mother protecting her child. There was something in the way she stood before him and defended him to the camera and reporter that made Renton feel cared for.

The feeling was fleeting and he immediately chalked it up to a professional doing her job. It was better not to think anything of her behavior. Not to read any meaning where there wasn’t. She was covering her ass as corporate professionals would. She was earning her paycheck. But he could certainly enjoy the show.

The moment was over, Renton was being escorted back into the building and away from the excitement. Then Ren was faced with another version of Julianna he had yet to see. A very annoyed looking one.

For a second he was thrown off his normal routine: smile and charm. His mouth hung open a little bit before he became conscious of it and closed it. The gears of his mind turned over rapidly working quickly on how to explain himself.

Renton pushed locks of dark brown hair back in a clearly practiced motion.

“I was just giving the media a little bit of the circus they so love.” His lips spread into a smile and he grabbed her shoulders, leaning close with a mischievous look in his eyes. “You were sensational, Julianna. You have such a...presence.”

A known liar and criminal, it was hard for Renton to give out compliments without immediately being suspected of something else. Surely it would look as if he was trying to distract the attention from himself and the fact that he shouldn’t have been speaking with the media. But, in truth, he was actually impressed with Julianna. The compliment was heartfelt.

“I hope Darcy sees that. He will love it!”

Renton was so off base there. Darcy would not love to see any of that. The point was to have avoided all of that.

RE: Public Relations [Closed] - megs - 05-16-2017

Julianna could tell her annoyance bothered him. Almost as if knowing someone was upset with him, upset him in turn, since he tried so hard to be likable. For a moment there was blank look on his face as he registered the idea that she wasn’t swept up in his charisma. That she wasn’t as easy a mark as most of the people he encountered. He was trying to figure out how to manage her, she could see it behind his eyes. And that only annoyed her more. He refused to see that she was genuinely attempting to help him. He was deliberately fighting against her.

The fur on her tail smoothed as she watched him fuss with his hair. She continued to stand directly in front of him, gazing up at him with a mostly neutral expression. Most people focused on the thin, angry line of her mouth, and they missed the emotion in her eyes. Julianna looked up at Renton in a way that was pleading with him to behave, for his sake.

“I wasn’t putting on a show for your entertainment,” she snapped back, shrugging his hands off her shoulders. Julianna felt that his compliment was genuine, something about the excitement in his tone, but it was out of place. She didn’t want to be praised on the heels of his having made a mistake.

Julianna inhaled deeply and squared her shoulders, tilting her chin to look him in the eye. She was done being apart of the so called ‘circus’ that he continued to advocate for his own amusement. She wondered if this was all a game to him now, and if he was just determined to enjoy the attention while it lasted. Renton mentioned Darcy and her ears pinned backwards.

“If you enact another willful breach of contract, our partnership will be voided and I will no longer be able to help you.”

These words marked the end of their conversation. She left no room for debate. Julianna turned away from him in a flurry of dark hair and colorful skirts. Her heels were a sharp sound on the tile and she walked away from him, without waiting for a response, or glancing back at him.

RE: Public Relations [Closed] - saronym - 05-17-2017

Renton was left with a sour taste in his mouth after being scolded by Julianna. He couldn’t figure out why he cared when deep down he’d resented Darcy’s decision to hire him a babysitter. So what if she wanted to walk out on the contract? Wasn’t that her failure and not his? Wouldn’t that show Darcy and the CAF and the world that he refused to be corralled?

In the end, he gave up on asking himself the bigger questions about his future and decided to treat himself to a night out --- at the casino.

Renton loved the casino. It was one of the places he felt his bright personality could fit in. It was also, by definition, full of his people.

Dreamers, schemers, rip off artists, cheats, cons, criminals, and the occasional card counting genius. There was something about the place. It was bright and energetic with a darkness underneath like an open secret everybody knew about. It was a place people could put it all on the line and possibly come out on top. A place one could feel hopeful and distraught all in the same moment.

Maybe it said something about Renton’s character that he felt at home in such a place.

Renton was caught up in wondering if the young and promising Juniper could pull off card counting. The child was gifted. But he wasn’t allowed to corrupt her. And besides she wasn’t old enough to pull off a fake ID. Still had too much of the trappings of childhood innocence in her face. Plus there was a frowny Brigadier General and his bouncy mom to answer to if he tried taking Juniper to a casino.

So he came alone.

Feeling whimsical with his Rat Pack-esque hat, Renton sat down at a random slot machine with his cocktail, inserted his money, and pulled the lever. He sipped delicately at his Manhattan and gazed out at the crowd. A group of excited young men were gathered around the 5 dollar blackjack table nearby. He liked the infectious energy of the group. They weren’t high rollers by any means but tonight they could play at it.

That possibility. He reveled in the unknowningness; the potentiality. That was the feeling he sought.

But - what was that on the slot machine? Game Data Error Code 4619.

Why oh why did Renton Felix Bell feel it would be a good decision to fiddle with the slot machine? Why did this known felon think it would be acceptable to mess with the equipment at a casino of all places?

Because he simply couldn’t help himself. A challenge was before him and he couldn’t not.

Predictably, he ended up apprehended by the casino security and brought to a dingy back room for questioning. His explanations were not accepted and Renton found himself with a bloodied mouth and nose. That was before law enforcement was contacted and he was taken to a jail cell. The casino security easily convinced the police officers that Renton had been attempting to tamper with the machine to force a big win and then had tried to fight them off which earned him his injuries.

Renton, familiar with cuffs and the back of a cop car, knew it wouldn’t help to deny anything. He knew it wouldn’t help to say anything at all. It was best to remain silent.

And hadn’t that been what Julianna had told him? To keep his mouth shut and stay out of trouble or he’d find himself without a P.R. agent. Our partnership will be voided and I will no longer be able to help you.

He didn’t speak except to ask for his phone call.

Renton, in truth, had no one to call. No family. Despite his bubbly personality, Renton had no close friends he could lean on. Such was the effect of being a high profile felon with a lot of (not yet caught) felon “friends.” The only person he had in his life was under contractual obligation to help him and even she had recently threatened to void it.

He felt unhelpable.

Nevertheless, he called her collect from the county jail. She’d hear a pre-recorded message asking her to accept the collect call from a ‘Renton Bell.’

“Julianna,” he said with none of the usual luster in his voice, “Can you help me?” He was broken and pleading bleeding down the front of his slim white button down.

“Please?”