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Pansy Parkinson (pans_parkinson_) wrote in finnigans_rpg,

Pansy was slightly later than she'd intended to be. She had no qualms about letting Roger wait, but she hadn't meant to be ten minutes behind schedule. Five, at the most, was as far as she'd push the limits of propriety. Waiting did a man good, kept him on his toes. Five minutes was expected, ten was impolite and gave the man an advantage. Pansy hated for anyone, especially anyone male, to have the advantage.

She'd needed the time, though, to calm down from her meeting with fucking Anthony Morgan. The fat prick thought he could fire her? Oh, he was going to regret the day he'd decided to cross Pansy Parkinson. She'd be sure of that. Fired. The word ate at her as she took calming breaths in her office. Nattie was cleaning up the shards of the vase that had been shattered at the height of Pansy's rage. It was an action she regretted now; she hated when she lost control of her emotions. Better to be cool and collected than angry.

"Mistress, you'll be late if you don't leave now," Nattie said, giving Pansy's hand a soothing pat. "Forget about the wretched man, yes listen to Nattie now. Beastly man, doesn't know how to treat a lady. You be better than him."

Pansy took another breath, then smoothed her hair back into the professional knot she'd twisted it into before her meeting with Nimbus. The meeting where she'd been fired. No, don't think of that now. She had to be cool when meeting with Roger Davies. She didn't know him, and couldn't let him know she was upset. That would give him the power, even if her emotional state had nothing to do with him. So she took another breath, studied herself in the mirror, and pushed everything down. Merlin knew she had years of practice at emotional repression; it was easy enough to fall back into the habit now.

"Thank you Nattie. I don't know what I'd do without you." Giving the elf an uncharacteristic kiss to the weathered cheek, Pansy grabbed her bag and headed out, heels clicking confidently on the pavement as she walked towards Bella's.

It only took a few minutes to reach the restaurant, and she was shown immediately to their table. She took her time studying him as she crossed the dining area, appreciating that he'd taken some effort, but not too much, with his appearance. He certainly was attraction, and she could see the appeal, but looks weren't everything. She'd see what he was made of, and deem him worthy or not of Marcus' friendship--or anything else.

"Mr. Davies, I'm sorry to keep you waiting," she said smoothly, giving him points for rising as she approached the table, and more for pulling out her chair. He had manners, or at least the ability to fake them. "Thank you for indulging me with this lunch. I admit, I have ulterior motives, but we'll get to those." More points for the bucked of chilled Champagne that arrived as soon as she did.