Envy's Office, The Hegemony Compound, Brazil, Sunday Evening

[whenshewasnice]

"What? He called?!"

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, I forgot to tell you."

"You forgot?"

"Are you smoking? You smoke?"

-----

Another stellar couple of weeks back in Toronto. Kid Chameleon was getting courted by actual record labels, while Envy's boyfriend was conveniently forgetting to tell her when their representatives called.

(He'd also taken her out to an arcade, though, and despite her initial reluctance, she'd remembered for a while why they were actually dating. Still. Was it too little?)

It was good to be home, now. Probably. Even if she'd bypassed dumping her bags in her apartment and come straight to the office instead. Which was generally a sign she was about to smother herself with work in lieu of dealing with anything. But there was always something to do. Especially when she'd been gone for a couple of days.

... Ignore how good she was at staying on top of things even a universe over. There was always something.

[ooc: NFB but open, sure.]

Comments

[lockestheway]

"The ambassador of Moldavia won't stop calling me," Peter said, parking his expensively besuited shoulder against the wall of her office, right around the door. "Something something diplomatic disaster in the making something something please can you get this guy off my ass?"

And hello, Envy.

[whenshewasnice]

"Tell his ambassadorness that we understand his concern but do not think the matter necessitates our input at the present time," Envy replied with a slight drawl without looking up.

Then she did look up. "Or just tell him to freaking stop calling."

Hello, Peter.

[lockestheway]

"They were talking about a potential plebiscite before all of this went south," Peter said, pulling a face. "I've tried. I've even told the secretary to stop routing his calls. He was on our doorstep for an hour this morning."

[whenshewasnice]

"... Really?"

Envy's eyebrow was way up for that.

[lockestheway]

"I seriously considered throwing one of our questionable mess hall pastries at him," Peter said, "But that wouldn't be Hegemonly."

[whenshewasnice]

"Well, if he turns up again, I can go be stern but professional." Or practice distracting with her cleavage. Whatever. "Without pastries."

[lockestheway]

"You could probably get away with one pastry," Peter noted.

[whenshewasnice]

"I will only throw pastries under extreme duress," Envy retorted. "At most, I'd spill a drink on him accidentally on purpose."

[lockestheway]

"The mess started serving grape juice while you were gone," Peter said.

[whenshewasnice]

"So really, we should invite him in for some juice. And then spill some on him." She nodded. "Are we sure that won't be a diplomatic disaster?"

[lockestheway]

"It depends on how subtle you play it," said Peter, who wasn't about to admit to exaggerating the entire debacle (though not by that much) because she had I-need-work-face.

[whenshewasnice]

Envy rolled her eyes at him. "Please, who do you think you're talking to?"

Subtlety was her game. Well, that and being infuriatingly vague.

[lockestheway]

"There's always a risk you're going to show up in five-inch red high heels," Peter said dryly, peeling himself away from the entrance.

[whenshewasnice]

Envy shuffled some papers aside. "I'm not sure I follow that train of thought."

[lockestheway]

"Your wardrobe's been getting very 'hey, I'm here'," Peter said. "Which is not a criticism, by the way."

[whenshewasnice]

"Of course it's not. You like it when I'm here." Both in the general sense as well as well as the more particular way that had to do with her appearance.

She wasn't going to be done with paying extra attention to the latter anytime soon. (In fact, she was going to make a career out of it.) "But I still don't see how that would interfere with my plan of spilling juice on an ambassador. You'd think the distraction would make it easier. I would just have to keep my hands and my glass below chest-level."

[lockestheway]

"Yes, but it firmly takes the situation out of the realm of 'subtlety'," Peter said, amused. "Having an outfit that screams 'Look at my legs' is more 'refuge in ostentatiousness'."

[whenshewasnice]

"I don't have to be subtle about anything but spilling the drink," Envy retorted, leaning back in her chair. "My legs and chest being obvious won't make me pour the drink on his head."

[lockestheway]

"The act of spilling a drink isn't exactly inherently subtle, either."

This was a ridiculous argument. Peter was enjoying it immensely.

[whenshewasnice]

"It is when you do it subtly."

Please, Peter.

[lockestheway]

"I wouldn't go for the head if you're trying to do it subtly."

Peter wandered over to her desk.

[whenshewasnice]

"I only presented that as a thing I wouldn't be compelled to do," Envy replied, with a faint amused drawl, "so gold star, Wiggin."

[lockestheway]

Peter rolled his eyes, but shut up about it.

"Anyway," he said, "if you'd be so kind to go dump a drink on the Moldavian ambassador, and maybe go through some of the enormous buttload - that's an imperial measurement, by the way - of files that just got dumped on my desk, be my guest."

[whenshewasnice]

Envy looked up at him, resting her chin on her hand, her elbow on the desk. "If you'll order me dinner."

Was it even dinner time anymore? Toronto messed with her perception of time. (Really, Toronto messed with her perception of everything.)

[lockestheway]

Peter let out a soft snort. "If you were anyone else, I'd tell you where to put your dinner," he said. "Mess hall or take-out?"

[whenshewasnice]

She smiled at him. It was a little smug.

(Better get used to that.)

"Take-out." The mess hall could wait. "And I'll be putting it in my mouth, thank you."

[lockestheway]

Peter almost made a crack about inserting peppers anally, but - thankfully for everyone involved - didn't.

He reached for her phone. "I'll get you some churrasco," he said.

[whenshewasnice]

Envy still made a face at his narrative. Just because.

"And Guaraná. I'll be here a while."

[lockestheway]

You dealt with Wiggins, you dealt with rectal humor. Even if it was only in narrative.

"I'll get some for me, too," he said, idly scrolling through the list of restaurants in the city, then punching the one he was thinking about. "I think the last time I ate was twelve hours ago."

At least he remembered about that, these days. Most of the time.

[whenshewasnice]

Envy was still definitely judging him for that. At least a little.

"Do we need to set you a timer for that?"

[lockestheway]

Peter pulled a face at her. "I eat," he said.

And then he wasn't saying much to her, as he was busy putting in an order.

[whenshewasnice]

Envy made a face right back at him.

But at least she didn't interrupt his order with any further comments.