Ruth Giancolo, a.k.a. Ruth Kennedy (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} rather_write) wrote in ![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} jh_corporation,@ 2008-03-24 22:03:00 |
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On The House (Tag: Leander)
"How do I look?" Ruth asked, staring into her mirror. There were two faces there: her own, pale and perfectly made up; and her assistant's, which was usually always wearing the expression of polite interest. The reflection just past her shoulder gave her reflection a long look. "Different," David finally answered, in the quiet tone he used when he didn't agree with something she'd done.
She did look different. The green swivel turned back to her own image and scrutinized it. The foundation was important. But perhaps... Ruth grabbed a handful of Kleenex and swiped it over her mouth, bringing it back with red smears and leaving her with much paler lips. It was only a dinner, and only at Chez Caprini's. She dropped the wad of tissue into the compact, round garbage bin nestled carefully on the floor just under the sink, then dampened a Q-tip with cleaning solution. A few minutes later, her eyes were not so kohled, and if she looked tired still, there was only so much foundation could do. "How about now?"
"Beautiful," the AIA replied. His compliments had stopped making her smile years ago. Instead she nodded, shoved her hand through her hair, and grabbed her clutch on the way to the door. Just as David opened the door for her and she passed through the doorway, Ruth tilted her head up and said to seemingly nothing, "I hope you're ready, Mr. Nolan."
Except there was something there, out of sight, affixed to the ledge over the doorway: a tiny microphone that transmitted directly into a recorder that played in Leander's room. It was meant to give him immediate warning if that other AIA decided to knock on her door. Or knock down her door. Unlike the last time, however, it wouldn't find anything of her father's in her apartment now.
She had turned the box of her father's mementos over to Leander the night she'd hired him, just after he'd arrived. It had been years since she'd looked through it. A diary, a few of Ruth's childhood paintings, and some old floppy discs she'd never bothered trying to find a floppy disc drive to access -- nothing she could see that would be worth her life. Perhaps Leander Nolan and Robert Skandra could do something with those things. Perhaps.
Her knock came politely enough on the next door down the hall. Behind her, David stepped away to call the elevator.
"How do I look?" Ruth asked, staring into her mirror. There were two faces there: her own, pale and perfectly made up; and her assistant's, which was usually always wearing the expression of polite interest. The reflection just past her shoulder gave her reflection a long look. "Different," David finally answered, in the quiet tone he used when he didn't agree with something she'd done.
She did look different. The green swivel turned back to her own image and scrutinized it. The foundation was important. But perhaps... Ruth grabbed a handful of Kleenex and swiped it over her mouth, bringing it back with red smears and leaving her with much paler lips. It was only a dinner, and only at Chez Caprini's. She dropped the wad of tissue into the compact, round garbage bin nestled carefully on the floor just under the sink, then dampened a Q-tip with cleaning solution. A few minutes later, her eyes were not so kohled, and if she looked tired still, there was only so much foundation could do. "How about now?"
"Beautiful," the AIA replied. His compliments had stopped making her smile years ago. Instead she nodded, shoved her hand through her hair, and grabbed her clutch on the way to the door. Just as David opened the door for her and she passed through the doorway, Ruth tilted her head up and said to seemingly nothing, "I hope you're ready, Mr. Nolan."
Except there was something there, out of sight, affixed to the ledge over the doorway: a tiny microphone that transmitted directly into a recorder that played in Leander's room. It was meant to give him immediate warning if that other AIA decided to knock on her door. Or knock down her door. Unlike the last time, however, it wouldn't find anything of her father's in her apartment now.
She had turned the box of her father's mementos over to Leander the night she'd hired him, just after he'd arrived. It had been years since she'd looked through it. A diary, a few of Ruth's childhood paintings, and some old floppy discs she'd never bothered trying to find a floppy disc drive to access -- nothing she could see that would be worth her life. Perhaps Leander Nolan and Robert Skandra could do something with those things. Perhaps.
Her knock came politely enough on the next door down the hall. Behind her, David stepped away to call the elevator.
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