[11 AM, Monday morning, and the board members of Oscorp waited impatiently in a meeting room, voices going sharper with their dissonance and irritation. Faces grew redder and blotchier by the moment. Felicia drummed her red fingernails on the surface of the long, shiny oak table, sharp green eyes darting from member to member as she assured them for what felt like the twentieth time that Harry -- Mr. Osborn was on his way. But, they were becoming restless, and there was tittering about the young boy that itched Felicia the wrong way. They were far too dismissive, in the same way that people had been far too dismissive of her. She felt protective of her boss. She knew he was capable if he would just goddamn show up to his job. Still, that didn't soothe her own ire, and after the twenty-first assurance, she excused herself, saying that she would go to find him in his office and fetch him.
Only, she didn't go to his office, Oh, she was going to fetch him, surely, but she knew that he hadn't stepped foot in Oscorp today.
She assumed that he was at home, or at least she hoped. If she had to pull him off some sloppy girl and wake him up, she was going to be livid. Without even grabbing her coat, she walked out of the building and hailed the first yellow cab that neared her, immediately rattling off the Osborn Estate's address on the Upper East Side. The drive from midtown to the estate was fairly painless, and the entire time, she kept dialing and redialing the missing Osborn heir. No answer, so she called again. And again. And again.
Frustrated, she tossed some cash at the driver when he pulled up to the front of Harry's building, mentally clocking the money she'd charge as business expenses for that, and strutted towards the entrance. Only, she decided at the last moment not to use the front entrance. Just for the hell of it. Felicia, being Harry's assistant, knew most of the security protocols, knew how much personnel was on site at any given moment, and she could guess which were the weakest entryways. A sweep of the premises, and she decided for a side, service entrance. Bobbypins, a click and she was in a hallway that lead to the foyer of the main entrance. No servants were there to greet her, thankfully, and she took a few high-heeled steps across marble before stopping at the base of the stairs.]
Mr. Osborn? [And then, louder, just in case.] Mr. Osborn.