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Lifestyle Section [04/10/2010 - 07/07/2012] In their own section, writers can now enjoy the freedom of elbow room. No longer will their articles about the latest fashionable patterns in wizarding robes get mixed up with columns on new Ministry laws and Quidditch accessories. Bigger and sturdier desks with no visible signs of termite damage decorate the rectangular area that is devoted to the Lifestyle section of the Daily Prophet, alongside new and more comfortable chairs to better shock absorb posteriors during crunch time. Those dreadful deadlines are always looming near so remember to stay on top of your game! You are HERE. |
There were a couple of things Hunter liked about her new desk. First, she liked that she had a nice big, clean desk that didn't wobble at all... and it was all her. She loved that it wasn't in the middle of layout like her last desk. And she liked that she was close to the front desk and could watch the yummy little nibble working there when she was particularly blocked in her work. |
"Hehe." Plymouth had spent his quiet morning at his desk making an indian headdress from loose slips of paper. Actually, he was making several, using paper clips and charms and color pens. He got up to look at the door to the street, threw a glance down to the hall to where The Boss was, then creeeeept into the office of Hunter Bones. Once he was safely inside, he put the headdress on. It was droopy and awful and the rubber band he was using made his hair stand up EVERYWHERE. But it was kind of awesome. "I made you one." Plymouth held up Hunter's by the rubber band. "Hehe. If you want." |
Ooooh. The little cute one was here. With FASHION ACCESSORIES. "Yes, come here. Give it to me," Hunter gestured for him to approach her desk and made grabby hands at the... thingy. What was that? "You brought it to exactly the right place. I am fashion forward, you know?" |
Plymouth had been sort of hugging the wall, so he eased towards her with the headdress out in front of him. His arm was stiff and he had the band on the very tippy of his fingers. He didn't want to get TOO close. "I was just bored. Like, really bored." Nervous!hehe. "And I saw you staring." She made him totally nervous. He stopped short of her desk and leaned forward so she could reach his gift offering. |
"I like watching you do your job," she informed him, her lip quirking into a half smirk. Hunter reached for the headdress and turned it around a few times. How did this work? "You're adorable. What do they call you?" |
She was HITTING ON HIM. ... HEHE. Merlin. Okay. Plymouth backed away slowly, back towards the door. "Depends, I think, on which they you mean." |
He was running away. That was a shame, but he was a baby nommy one and it didn't really surprise her. Hunter waggled her fingers at him. "The girls? The ones whose hearts you continuously break, I imagine? I'll start. I'm Hunter Bones." And he was...? |
Andddddddd Plymouth's grin fell off his face. He swallowed, the loud type, and fingered the doorknob. He never meant to ever break anything on a girl, and to be perfectly honest, he'd been broken more BY girls...? At least, at present, it felt that way. Not that he blamed her. She was happy... so... "Err... Plymouth. That is my name. I already knew yours." |
"And I already knew yours, but now we're properly introduced and we can say hello to each other without awkward silences," Hunter saw the wounded expression flicker on his face. It was terribly familiar to her, so she stopped giving him the intense look and pulled out the drawers of her desk. "How do you feel about cookies? For? Opposed?" |
Awkward silence. It happened anyway. ... "Hehe. I think I'm a fan. But not if it's coupled with the coffee here? I don't know what happens, but that stuff tastes street water." Plymouth eased back towards the desk, his headdress still droopy, his hair growing increasingly more wild. |
"I'm also for them, although I think most of the ones in my desk are store bought and a little stale," Hunter apologized, drawing out a sleeve of oatmeal raisin cookies and rolling it toward him. "You know, the funny thing about the coffee is that it's MUCH better than it used to be. You must be spoiled by gourmet coffee." |
"I think maybe it's coffee in general. It does funny things to me." No, the already overly hyper did not stimulating caffeine. "Hehe." More awkward silence. .... Plymouth tugged at his headdress. It wasn't.... coming off though. Ruh roh. Tug. Tug. Tuuuuuug. "Ow..." |
"Merlin, what did you do?" Hunter slid out of her chair and circled the desk to see if she could pull that big head thing off of him without pulling out all his hair with it. "Tell me you didn't use a sticking charm." |
"I didn't use a sticking charm....?" Plymouth not-so-convincingly replied. Tug. "But that might be a lie...?" Plymouth bent his head down for Hunter to better see errrr him. "Hehe. Umm. You don't suppose you could help me a bit? I think Mr. Hoshino might not appreciate fashion forwardness on me." |
"Let me see," Hunter slipped her fingers into his hair, sliding them along the headgear. Nope. It was well and truly stuck. "Well, that's... let me get my wand. Or... scissors? Whichever you prefer." |
O__________O "You... really? I was .. I was kind of growing it out?" His um.... the girl he used to date hadn't liked longer hair. Or beards. Or dogs. Or... his socks in her flat. Whole other story that, though. "Is there an Option C?" As nice as he found Hunter Bones, Plymouth Morgan just wasn't so sure about her wand near his head. "Just pull real hard. I won't cry. Much." |
"I can't think of anything else to do," Hunter complained, but she did give the headdress a little tug. If she pulled too hard, the thing was going to pull apart and his little creative spirit might break. "I'm going to... pull really hard. It might hurt a bit." Stupid, really. She could just CUT it. |
"Does it look bad....? Maybe we could just leave it," Plymouth suggested, trying for nonchalance and probably completely failing. He peeked up at Hunter Bones, who looked ... Well. Forget how she looked. .................................................. . "Hehe. Umm." Um. UM. Indeed. |
"It doesn't look like anything yet," Hunter winked at him and gave the whole headdress one last vicious twist. It pulled off some chunks of hair, but at least he wasn't permanently attached to the thing anymore. "Oh... oh, little honey. Let me... are you okay?" |
Plymouth's mouth fell open. She'd sort of - no she'd just straight up - TORN it OUT of his hair? Yeah. Yeah that happened. His eyes drifted to his creation, then back to her. o__o It took a moment for the HURT to register, and bet your momma's curtains IT DID hurt. The sort of sting that made his eyes tear up involuntarily. Not crying, though. Plymouth Morgans do NOT cry. Much. "Is there a bald spot....?" Just what he needed. A bald spot. |
"No, kid. All your hair is intact. You are without any attractive war wounds," she left the headdress in his lap and slid back into her seat. "So... you want to be a writer?" |
Plymouth's hand kept wondering up to his hair. "Hehe. I had ear hair once. What's a small bald spot, right?" Right? Anyway. He situated himself in the chair, trying to appear sophisticated and manly all at once. "Uhhh.... err... no? I umm.... I just work at the front desk. Sometimes I write memos. You might have got one." Sometimes he drew on said memos. It happened. "But not for a career. Who'd want read what I write?" haha, right? |
"Don't you know that everyone has a story to tell, Plymouth Morgan? I bet you have a really interesting story." Maybe. Or maybe he was just a sad kid who didn't know that this was hard work for someone not trying to break into the business. "What would you like to do, if you weren't writing memos?" |
"Not really," Plymouth squirmed and fidgeted around uncomfortably in his chair. She wasn't exactly prying, or even asking questions, but he still sort of felt like a bug under a muggle magnifying glass. There wasn't much to him. He got up, alone, went to work, went home, alone, and hung out his best friend in the world: his 4 year old baby sister. His routine didn't vary much. "Me and Mom used to do the Quidditch circuit. Selling stuff. Traveling. It's been looking more and more appealing lately. Not that I don't like this job..." 'cause he totally did. Plymouth Morgan LIKED all his new dress robes and suits, how important he felt having a desk, and the occasional sir he got. At least on the periphery, he appeared grown up. |
"I can see the appeal in that," she leaned back in her seat and kicked up her booted feet to rest on the desk. The boots... they were fabulous. They just were. "No roots, no real responsibilities except to your booth and your customers. Did you sleep in a tent?" Heck, if things got much worse with her finances, she could always buy a tent and move into Ian's back yard. |
Plymouth did take a moment to admire the shoes. Sigh. He'd grown accustomed, really, to looking at Da... "Sometimes. Most of the time. Yeah. I liked waking up in a new place every few days. And sometimes, it'd take you a few minutes to figure out which part of the country you were in. Bit lonely now, though, I imagine." He cleared his throat and readjusted his tie. "I spent all my money on a boat though. So..." Plymouth Morgan was a secretary now. |
"A boat?" Hunter grinned at him in approval. "Well, by all means... why aren't you sailing around the world? I love to travel... if I had a boat... Merlin. You'd never see me again. I'd just owl in my articles." Not sure if she'd get approval on that, but it was a nice little dream. |
"You could borrow it," Plymouth shrugged a shoulder, far too stiff to be nonchalant but again he was trying. "It's currently collecting dust and small animals behind the shed at home." Plymouth's eyes lifted and met Hunter's. "Really. If you want to take it out, I'll get it cleaned up for you." To be honest, Plymouth didn't want to look at it much right now. |
"I'm afraid I can't afford the lifestyle, but it sounds great," Hunter shrugged. "And I suppose I need to get back to my draft. They get really cranky around here when you don't turn copy in on time. You should try the break room, though... the coffee is better than you'd expect." |
Oh. "Errr. Right. I'll be out there," Plymouth got up and made awkward gestures out the door. To his desk. He'd be there if she needed him. Hehe. Needed him. Wanted him. One of those, either of those, would do. "Don't get your headdress stuck. But if you do, you know where to find me." Plymouth made more awkward, erratic gesturing out of the door, where he TOO should have been going instead of just talking about going. "Hehe." |
"You," she pointed at him. "You're adorable, Plymouth Morgan. You drop by whenever you want and we can chat and eat stale cookies." She tucked the role of cookies back into her desk, tucked the headdress over her auburn girls, and gave him a merry wave. |
Okay. Nerves? They were starting to jangle again. The young man bit down on his lip as he looked curiously through the area, almost considering going back to ask Plym to maybe possibly help direct him somewhere before he finally found where he was meant to be. At least he believed this was the right place. The boy's head tilted to the side as he looked from desk to desk, grateful that at least there didn't seem to be too many people around to see his nosiness and question him about it. He was still unsure if his youthfulness would get him questioning looks later, whenever he did come across people. |
"Are you lost or is Plymouth hosting one of his meet and greet thingies and forgot to tell us again?" Hunter propped her satchel up on the nearest desk and eyed the precious young thing who was strolling through her department. If he was nice, maybe she'd give him a tour. Through her department. |
Looking toward the source of the voice, the young man's face turned a bit red. Did he really look that lost and out of place? His teeth closed down on the corner of his lip, and Raiden looked from the woman toward the door he'd come in through. Contemplating just... going out and bothering Plymouth again. No, no. He wasn't allowed to do that. "I'm... actually..." Er. "I'm supposed to start work here today." His hand reached up to his ear and tugged on the stud nervously. "You wouldn't happen to know where I could find 'Hunter Bones', would you?" |
"Oh, Hunter Bones. I know her," she shouldered her bag and circled the desk to give him the eye. So this was the new meat, eh? Nice of Ian to let her have a say. "No matter what Boss Man says, we'll get along just fine. Hunter," she offered a hand to him. "I've never killed a man, I never kiss and tell, and you can't try on my shoes. You'd be surprised how often people ask." |
Why was she looking at him like that? O__O Raiden resisted the urge to go back out in the lobby. To the desk. Where Plymouth was probably tossing his tie over his shoulder and mucking about doing his job. He was already nervous as anything about this; it was his first job, on top of being an actual good one. ...and this was Hunter. The boy's cheeks went a bit brighter red and he took the offered hand, giving it a gentle shake. "I'm Raiden Kururugi. And I don't believe I'll ever want to try on your shoes." He glanced down at them, and then nodded, a small smile breaking through the nervousness. "Definitely not. I'll keep my own on." |
"See? You're learning fast," Hunter smirked before pointing out a desk to Raiden. "That one used to be mine. It's clean, aside from a roll of biscuits I found when I took it myself. They're pretty stale, but I figured they were good luck." She nodded toward her own office. "Raiden. That's me back there. We're a good team here, so just... relax a bit." |
His head turned automatically, eyes following to where she was pointing. A roll of stale biscuits was meant to be lucky? He wasn't going to question it. He merely nodded, his nervousness slowly settling and slipping away. He had a desk. At the Daily Prophet, where he now worked. Several weeks ago, stuff like this had seemed years off, hadn't it. "Sorry," he murmured, a self-conscious grin crossing his face as he looked back to Hunter. "I'm just... I've never done this before. It's kinda nerve-wracking? First job and all that." First day at his first job. And his first summer of total freedom from having to return to Hogwarts. Lots of firsts. And Sienna hadn't helped with the nerves, with her whole 'mistake' thing. |
"Could be loads worse. You could have your first job at a teen fashion magazine where they make you model the cast-offs for weeks before you find out it was just hazing. We don't haze. I might make you go for a pastry run if you ever look like you're taking root in your chair, though." For his own sake, clearly. Clearly. |
Wide-eyed stare. "Wow. That... kinda sucks." He had no idea what 'cast-offs' meant, but considering the context, it was probably not something that was fun to do. He was suddenly extremely glad that hazing didn't happen here... though surely Plym would have warned him, were someone going to do something undesirable. Then again... Plym didn't seem to mind most things. So maybe not. "I probably wouldn't mind," he replied with a shrug. He didn't look forward to sitting around for long periods of time, after all. Much as his job now might call for it. Heh. His job. It still felt odd to think about it like that. |
"Well, settle in at your desk," Hunter pointed at the desk again, just in case he was confused on which was his. "And then you can come find me and we'll chat about assignments. Hear your ideas." |
"Mmm." Raiden nodded again and turned his attention toward the desk, having been dismissed to go about his own business. Biting his bottom lip absently, he let his fingertips drag along the desktop as he stepped closer to it. Out of some engrained instinct, he tugged the drawers open, pushing them closed once he'd peered inside them. The messenger bag that had been slung over his shoulder, he set on the chair, and went about digging through it. There were a few little things in there that he'd figured would be important to bring with him. Pens, for one. Easier to write quickly when you didn't have to stop for ink. A handful of them went into the drawer, along with a few pots of ink that he'd dumped together after finding them scattered through his school things and his bedroom. A few quills, and some paper, and... well. That was most everything for work that he had in the bag. Peeking at the other contents, he transferred the bag to the floor and flopped into the chair himself. This was his desk. Huh. He wiggled in the chair a bit. |
Charlotte walked into the Daily Prophet a large smile on her face, her new tag attached to her jacket. It was her first day of work and her heels made a slight clicking sound with each step. She was going to be so excited telling her family about her first day that is when they were back from school and wherever they were really. She was happy and she just wanted to be in there already. Her brown hair pulled into a side-braid she was trying to look presentable today in her nice robes and well nice clothing in general. She saw an empty desk in the back of the room and quickly looked for names on it, finding hers one one of the three pristine desks she placed her little box of things there. Quills, inc, the works even a little picture of her sister, aunt, and brother and herself (which was odd to see) waving and smiling. A picture her mother and father had taken before their plane went down. Everyone in a while they would run into the frame from the picture taken right after - and smile, wave, and tell her they loved her. Yes she talked to a photograph. Smiling she looked around the room wondering what to do next maybe writing mock-up of the little I-Spys she'd seen in muggle news papers would work? Yeah? People might like those feeling noticed was good. |
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