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Millicent Bulstrode (reinventingmils) wrote in finnigans_rpg,

So it was a mixture of magic and non-magic. Millicent nipped lightly at her lip in thought as she took in the surroundings while they walked. And if she hadn't gotten to that conclusion by the time they got to the lifts, she thought, she probably would have gotten the tip-off from... The lift rose with a bit of a hop and a slow, extended swoosh that made her clamp her lips down on a squeal, and the thought died before she finished it. Morgana. All right then, the lifts must either have a slowing spell on them, or they were Muggle as well. She gave both men a glance out of the corner of her eye, looking to see if they'd noticed, and decided that Wilson hadn't, but that Mr Sum-...Rich very well might have, if the slight smile was any indication. Or he might have just happened to look over at that moment, and was being polite. She hoped it was the latter. Trying to explain that she didn't think she'd ever been in a Muggle lift would be awkward, though he'd probably expect it. She just...didn't want to look like a snob. That would kill things before they started.

Rich led her into his office, and Millicent was hard-put not to blink at the sight. That it wasn't quite what she expected was one thing -- her father's office had been full of hard, dark woods and plush leather chairs. This was full of light, which was very nice. But there was...a lot of paperwork. It wasn't strewn about, necessarily, but it was certainly a lot less...organised than she would have thought, given what (little, admittedly) she knew of Richard Summerby's public image. She took the seat he offered, and settled her purse in her lap, crossing her ankles and resting her hands on her bag. "I'll take some water, thank you," she said immediately, more for the chance to have something in her hands than from thirst. Though she might need it before they were through: there'd been one interview once when she'd been completely dry-mouthed after the first ten minutes from the amount of talking she'd been asked to do. Something gave her the impression Rich was more of a conversationalist than others, though.

"I am." Right to the chase, then. Millicent took a steadying breath, steeled her nerves, and smiled lightly. "I have experience as a personal assistant, which I'm sure you're aware requires a combination of secretarial and assistant skills." Did that sound condescending? She hoped not. And anyway, expectations were customisable, depending on the employer. Keep talking, Bulstrode. "I can keep a calendar, screen correspondence, plan meetings, make travel arrangements, keep a filing system, take dictation..." She drew in a tiny breath to keep herself from going too much more in-depth. Better to simply give the most important general skills, and then let him ask for more specifics if he actually needed them. "If you require me to prepare paperwork or do advance research, I learn quickly, so learning your preferences wouldn't take me very long. I can be discreet, and I would be willing to take an oath of fidelity, if you chose." She uncrossed her ankles, then recrossed them the opposite way. "And given that your business focuses on the international," she continued, "I speak fairly good French, and I'm learning German."

Millicent leaned back slightly, chin rising almost imperceptibly as she gave Rich an assessing look. "What in specific do you require for the position?"