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“Has Peter called yet?”
Her roommate’s voice was distant, muffled by the door separating Minerva’s bedroom from the rest of their shared apartment. Walking out of her ensuite, makeup bag in hand, she opened the door, inviting the other woman in before taking a seat at her desk. “No he hasn’t, I don’t even know if he’s going to go,” she replied, sitting cross-legged in her chair, pouring the bag’s contents out in front of her. As Veronica’s silhouette filled the doorframe, Minerva began pulling her hair back in a loose bun, ignoring the loose strands framing her face in favor of getting started. Her trial today had gone on a little longer than she’d anticipated and she was running late. Not that it mattered, apparently. She’d only thought to invite one person to the charity gala and he didn’t even have the decency to text her.
“And you didn’t think to call him?” Veronica prodded, as curious as always. Ever since Minerva took Peter Llewelyn on as a ‘project’, she's been insistent on insuring that he sticks to the straight and narrow, constantly inviting him out to community events in a fruitless effort to keep him out of trouble.
Minerva side-eyes the brunette before applying a layer of foundation, “You know I did… but he never answers my calls.”
Veronica huffed in amusement, crossing her arms over her chest, “You’d think he’d be a little more grateful, what with you getting him off easy and all.” she said, wandering further into the room as she did. She made herself comfortable in the chair just off to Minerva’s left, ignoring the woman’s lack of clothing in favor of gossiping. It’s not like they weren’t comfortable around one another anyway. “I don’t know why you keep making so much of an effort, Min. He’s kind of a prick.”
Her roommate’s voice was distant, muffled by the door separating Minerva’s bedroom from the rest of their shared apartment. Walking out of her ensuite, makeup bag in hand, she opened the door, inviting the other woman in before taking a seat at her desk. “No he hasn’t, I don’t even know if he’s going to go,” she replied, sitting cross-legged in her chair, pouring the bag’s contents out in front of her. As Veronica’s silhouette filled the doorframe, Minerva began pulling her hair back in a loose bun, ignoring the loose strands framing her face in favor of getting started. Her trial today had gone on a little longer than she’d anticipated and she was running late. Not that it mattered, apparently. She’d only thought to invite one person to the charity gala and he didn’t even have the decency to text her.
“And you didn’t think to call him?” Veronica prodded, as curious as always. Ever since Minerva took Peter Llewelyn on as a ‘project’, she's been insistent on insuring that he sticks to the straight and narrow, constantly inviting him out to community events in a fruitless effort to keep him out of trouble.
Minerva side-eyes the brunette before applying a layer of foundation, “You know I did… but he never answers my calls.”
Veronica huffed in amusement, crossing her arms over her chest, “You’d think he’d be a little more grateful, what with you getting him off easy and all.” she said, wandering further into the room as she did. She made herself comfortable in the chair just off to Minerva’s left, ignoring the woman’s lack of clothing in favor of gossiping. It’s not like they weren’t comfortable around one another anyway. “I don’t know why you keep making so much of an effort, Min. He’s kind of a prick.”
“Kind of?” Minerva huffed a laugh, “He’s a complete ass, Ron, but that doesn’t mean I’m just going to write him off like everyone else has.”
“Some people get wrote off for a good reason though,”
Minerva paused for a moment in the conversation to focus on applying her eyeliner, having already finished the face. She always saved the eyes for last because for her it was the most time consuming step. “Look, he’s two months into his parole and so far he’s been pretty clean. I just want to see him get through this without him going to prison.”
Veronica gave a long-suffering sigh, “That’s because you still see the good in people,” she said, “I swear I don’t know how you can deal with the kind of people you do on a day to day basis.”
“You’re a nurse, Ron.” comes Minerva’s deadpan reply, applying a layer of mascara before moving on to fill in her eyebrows.
“I said what I said.” Sensing that her roommate will soon need to get up and get dressed, Veronica pulled herself up out of the cushioned chair and headed back towards the door, “Well I hope you have fun tonight. Say hi to your boyfriend for me,”
Minerva is immediately filled with thoughts of John Carpenter, but not because she holds any romantic feelings for the man. Veronica had brought Minerva some coffee one morning while she was at work, and she just so happened to walk in on the two of them while they were arguing... much like — according to Veronica —”an old married couple.” No matter how many times Minerva insisted that there was more animosity between them than anything else, her roommate insisted that she could see the chemistry, going on and on about "sexual tension" and how they're an enemies-to-lovers fic just waiting to happen. It was like they had known each other in a past life or something, she had said, and has yet to let it go ever since. Lacking energy and time, Minerva let the comment slide, returning to the bathroom briefly to style her hair with tousled curls before beelining to the closet. Her dress wasn’t anything special. Simple, black, and form-fitting, maintaining a respectable level of modesty without sacrificing any sex appeal. She left her apartment with a thumbs up from Veronica and her purse, descending the staircase with the practiced grace of the many years she's had to wear high-heeled shoes.
Stepping out of a cab outside of City Hall, Minerva finds herself arriving behind a small group of people, hesitating at the bottom of the stairs. It wasn’t that she was intimidated by public functions like this ; networking for her firm has made her numb to large social gatherings. It wasn’t even that she was arriving alone, without someone on her arm to keep her company. She didn’t particularly need a date for things like these, independent as she is, and she’s positive she’ll be able to go in and find someone to talk to with relative ease. There was something else that bothered her that she couldn't describe, a foreboding feeling that she just couldn't seem to put a name to. She took a moment to brush off her dress, reaching into the her purse to make her sure her phone was on vibrate before slipping the strap onto her shoulder. With shoulders back and head held high, Minerva made her way inside, her face immediately lighting up at the sight of the old woman greeting people at the door.
"Mrs. Picket! Good evening," she greeted, pulling the woman in for a hug when others settled for polite handshakes. In her line of work, Minerva had to visit City Hall quite often, so she was very familiar with its layout and its patrons, but none of them held a candle to Mrs. Picket. "You look amazing. How's everything so far? Have I missed anything?"
With rose colored cheeks, Mrs. Picket smiled up at the young attorney, keeping Minerva's hands clasped in hers. "Thank you, dear. You're looking as beautiful as ever." Two gentle pats and she lets go, reaching into her pocket to slip her a piece of paper, "You haven't missed much, Miss Moreau. The event's just barely getting started. Feel free to place your bets over there," she gestures with one gloved hand, "I'll announce the winners at the end of the night."
Leaving Mrs. Picket with a smile, Minerva quickly commits her number to memory before slipping the piece of paper into her purse. A lot of people had already arrived, quite of few of them she recognized, others she knew rather well. She spotted Ciaran and Grayson almost immediately, but she she didn't have it in her to wave them over, not when they both looked so invested in their conversations. Foregoing socializing for the time being, Minerva made her way to the auction table, quietly perusing everything on display. Her eyes wandered, her attention catching on a few items with varying degrees of interest. It wasn't until she stumbled upon an antique dagger that she really gave pause. The King's Dagger, it was called. Her heart swelled at the sight of it, her hands carefully picking it up off of its velvet cushion to admire it more closely. So enraptured by the weapon was she that she didn't notice when someone came up behind her, her thumb grazing over the inscription that said: 'To my Marian, may you never back down from a fight.'
“Some people get wrote off for a good reason though,”
Minerva paused for a moment in the conversation to focus on applying her eyeliner, having already finished the face. She always saved the eyes for last because for her it was the most time consuming step. “Look, he’s two months into his parole and so far he’s been pretty clean. I just want to see him get through this without him going to prison.”
Veronica gave a long-suffering sigh, “That’s because you still see the good in people,” she said, “I swear I don’t know how you can deal with the kind of people you do on a day to day basis.”
“You’re a nurse, Ron.” comes Minerva’s deadpan reply, applying a layer of mascara before moving on to fill in her eyebrows.
“I said what I said.” Sensing that her roommate will soon need to get up and get dressed, Veronica pulled herself up out of the cushioned chair and headed back towards the door, “Well I hope you have fun tonight. Say hi to your boyfriend for me,”
Minerva is immediately filled with thoughts of John Carpenter, but not because she holds any romantic feelings for the man. Veronica had brought Minerva some coffee one morning while she was at work, and she just so happened to walk in on the two of them while they were arguing... much like — according to Veronica —”an old married couple.” No matter how many times Minerva insisted that there was more animosity between them than anything else, her roommate insisted that she could see the chemistry, going on and on about "sexual tension" and how they're an enemies-to-lovers fic just waiting to happen. It was like they had known each other in a past life or something, she had said, and has yet to let it go ever since. Lacking energy and time, Minerva let the comment slide, returning to the bathroom briefly to style her hair with tousled curls before beelining to the closet. Her dress wasn’t anything special. Simple, black, and form-fitting, maintaining a respectable level of modesty without sacrificing any sex appeal. She left her apartment with a thumbs up from Veronica and her purse, descending the staircase with the practiced grace of the many years she's had to wear high-heeled shoes.
Stepping out of a cab outside of City Hall, Minerva finds herself arriving behind a small group of people, hesitating at the bottom of the stairs. It wasn’t that she was intimidated by public functions like this ; networking for her firm has made her numb to large social gatherings. It wasn’t even that she was arriving alone, without someone on her arm to keep her company. She didn’t particularly need a date for things like these, independent as she is, and she’s positive she’ll be able to go in and find someone to talk to with relative ease. There was something else that bothered her that she couldn't describe, a foreboding feeling that she just couldn't seem to put a name to. She took a moment to brush off her dress, reaching into the her purse to make her sure her phone was on vibrate before slipping the strap onto her shoulder. With shoulders back and head held high, Minerva made her way inside, her face immediately lighting up at the sight of the old woman greeting people at the door.
"Mrs. Picket! Good evening," she greeted, pulling the woman in for a hug when others settled for polite handshakes. In her line of work, Minerva had to visit City Hall quite often, so she was very familiar with its layout and its patrons, but none of them held a candle to Mrs. Picket. "You look amazing. How's everything so far? Have I missed anything?"
With rose colored cheeks, Mrs. Picket smiled up at the young attorney, keeping Minerva's hands clasped in hers. "Thank you, dear. You're looking as beautiful as ever." Two gentle pats and she lets go, reaching into her pocket to slip her a piece of paper, "You haven't missed much, Miss Moreau. The event's just barely getting started. Feel free to place your bets over there," she gestures with one gloved hand, "I'll announce the winners at the end of the night."
Leaving Mrs. Picket with a smile, Minerva quickly commits her number to memory before slipping the piece of paper into her purse. A lot of people had already arrived, quite of few of them she recognized, others she knew rather well. She spotted Ciaran and Grayson almost immediately, but she she didn't have it in her to wave them over, not when they both looked so invested in their conversations. Foregoing socializing for the time being, Minerva made her way to the auction table, quietly perusing everything on display. Her eyes wandered, her attention catching on a few items with varying degrees of interest. It wasn't until she stumbled upon an antique dagger that she really gave pause. The King's Dagger, it was called. Her heart swelled at the sight of it, her hands carefully picking it up off of its velvet cushion to admire it more closely. So enraptured by the weapon was she that she didn't notice when someone came up behind her, her thumb grazing over the inscription that said: 'To my Marian, may you never back down from a fight.'
