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?
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?
Bitch, I'm limited edition.
The following 1 user Likes saronym's post: megs
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Public Relations [Closed] - by megs - 11-25-2016, 12:06 PM
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