claire dearing is an olympic sprinter (heels) wrote in witchinghour,
Claire had to admit, she felt more like herself when she could put on something professional, flat-iron her hair, and slip into a pair of killer, businesslike heels. And she had been making a point to do that every day, before she strolled with her polished and professional self into Redrum, Inc. - and it wasn't Jurassic World, it wasn't what she originally wanted to do with her life, it wasn't even where she wanted to be at all. But for a hellhole, it was close enough. And it kept her from losing her mind.
On bold, midnight blue pumps she practically cat-walked (one foot in front of the other, literally, that's how models did it) to meet Penelope, wearing a navy-blue-and-white striped dress with a foldover collar and decorative gold buttons; it fit her well, and she liked it. It also looked like she should be manning a ship, but the second floor would do just fine. "Yes, that's me," she confirmed, shaking the other woman's hand. "Come on up, we can get started."
Then Claire turned back, not wanting to be rude, after swishing red bangs from her eyes. "Can I help carry anything?"