As if summoned by that last syllable, the door rattled, and an armful of bags, boxes, and paperwork came teetering in. "The one time I hope Paulina's at her desk," a London accent said behind the stacks, followed by an unladylike snort.
There was a pause, while she shimmied a little to get everything past the door completely before she nudged it closed again with the flat of her heel. And then, in the quiet, she inserted with a tongue-touched grin that shone through wholly in her voice: "You know, you're no Paulina, but you'll do in a pinch..."
At last she managed to navigate the things in her arms in such a way that she could peek out from the side. The smile turned into an 'O' of surprise.
"Crap -- I mean, crud! I mean! I'm sorry - I didn't know you had a client!" There was nowhere for her to put lunch, and that extra paperwork she was helping with, AND the office supplies she'd gone to fetch. That printer ran out of paper quickly here. But she wasn't very successful. There really wasn't anywhere for her to easily set anything down on. She'd been counting on the chair Laurel was sitting in...