*looks over the pictures splashed across the pages of three separate magazines with something akin to approval—they really are being choosy about the quality of their photos these days, ever since she slapped the In-Speak with a pricey libel suit for that grainy image of a blonde woman (not her) cavorting with some greasy nightclub owner in Grand Fork East*
*can't even bring herself to be too annoyed with the possibility that there might've been sticky handprints left in her limousine after the outing to the ice cream parlor (it was worth it, and she's having the vehicle detailed inside and out, after all)*
*tucks the zines into one of her desk drawers, glances at the clock (two sharp) and pages her assistant du jour* *with utter confidence that her next appointment is already here and waiting* Send him in.