katyafeline (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
katyafeline) wrote2011-03-09 12:18 am
katyafeline) wrote2011-03-09 12:18 am
004: Business
"So... what do you do?" She peers down the bridge of her nose through glasses her eyes have been charmed to need for the time being (much to her extreme annoyance). The questioner doesn't appear at all impressed with her posturing, a thick-set man in the oppressive uniform of Soviet Russia in all of its officialdom. She knows she doesn't present much of an impressive figure in a tweedy suit and conservative up-do... though, thanks to Ignat her hair is actually smooth and sleek for once.
She had french-kissed him for that, earning the teasing, jeers, and cheers of most of the Nightwatch as she'd done so.
She knows, without having to look, that Boris Ivanovich is not so far away, dealing with this man's boss. In a gathering of Others, she might be (rightfully) seen as the boss's honorary bodyguard, if one can claim to guard someone of his caliber. In this setting, it is slightly different. She is the boss's 'girl'. The one with the paperwork, with the filing, with the tight pencil skirt and the unforgiving shoes. Never has she been so glad to not be human. Boris Ivanovich is here today to fulfill the part of the Light's cover story about running the electric company that actually requires some face time - paying proper due to the human powers that be to keep the myth alive. He couldn't go alone, an official of his stature wouldn't go alone, so she'd been summarily ordered to make herself presentable.
Without Ignat, in this case, she would have been lost. The Light Incubus had been in seventh heaven, given free reign to mold the Watch's signature hoyden. The dress and the shoes (oh hell, the shoes) she could gleefully murder him for, the realism with the glasses she feels is a step too far, but the hair might redeem it all. It is beautiful, and the boss had to remind her repeatedly not to pet it on their drive through the city.
She smiles at him, forcing herself to produce a demure little smile to match her image, a small city girl amongst all these powerful men. (Never mind that only one person in this room could stand up to her in a fight. Bah.)
"I am minding my boss's business." Katya replies, unarguably meek, but indefinably defiant in her answer and in the spark in her eyes. The boss finishes with his interview before her flabbergasted minor official can decide whether or not he should take offense, and together they sweep out of the office and into the gathering gloom of night.
The hair doesn't last the night, turning into its usual frizzed mess after an all-out brawl against a crew of country werewolves who thought they'd entertain themselves painting Moscow a new shade of red.
She had french-kissed him for that, earning the teasing, jeers, and cheers of most of the Nightwatch as she'd done so.
She knows, without having to look, that Boris Ivanovich is not so far away, dealing with this man's boss. In a gathering of Others, she might be (rightfully) seen as the boss's honorary bodyguard, if one can claim to guard someone of his caliber. In this setting, it is slightly different. She is the boss's 'girl'. The one with the paperwork, with the filing, with the tight pencil skirt and the unforgiving shoes. Never has she been so glad to not be human. Boris Ivanovich is here today to fulfill the part of the Light's cover story about running the electric company that actually requires some face time - paying proper due to the human powers that be to keep the myth alive. He couldn't go alone, an official of his stature wouldn't go alone, so she'd been summarily ordered to make herself presentable.
Without Ignat, in this case, she would have been lost. The Light Incubus had been in seventh heaven, given free reign to mold the Watch's signature hoyden. The dress and the shoes (oh hell, the shoes) she could gleefully murder him for, the realism with the glasses she feels is a step too far, but the hair might redeem it all. It is beautiful, and the boss had to remind her repeatedly not to pet it on their drive through the city.
She smiles at him, forcing herself to produce a demure little smile to match her image, a small city girl amongst all these powerful men. (Never mind that only one person in this room could stand up to her in a fight. Bah.)
"I am minding my boss's business." Katya replies, unarguably meek, but indefinably defiant in her answer and in the spark in her eyes. The boss finishes with his interview before her flabbergasted minor official can decide whether or not he should take offense, and together they sweep out of the office and into the gathering gloom of night.
The hair doesn't last the night, turning into its usual frizzed mess after an all-out brawl against a crew of country werewolves who thought they'd entertain themselves painting Moscow a new shade of red.