faderift | [Open & shut] girls in STEM

WHO: Gela and Iona Baynrac, and guests!
WHAT: Catch-all (closed; one open)
WHEN: Now
WHERE: Many places and new office
NOTES: Chill for now, will update where needed

OUTSIDE THE OFFICE

"Damn—"

That’s the sound of your new head of Diplomacy dropping something out of the already precarious stack in her arms. A sheaf of scrap papers, held together by a good clip, has slithered out of place and is slinking down the stairs behind her as she stands, wavering, trying to decide if she should leave it there and come back — but somebody could slip! — only to have more bits and pieces tumble to the ground when she crouches to snatch for it. "Wait! Wait, stay—"

If somebody would like to give her a hand before everything ends up halfway down the central tower, that would be greatly appreciated.

INSIDE THE OFFICE

The office, the workspace, the living quarters tacked on — she's exploring this new domain, having stacked her things by the open door, ready to push them around to her liking. There is a bit of furniture in here and a small window, which she has opened, though the occasional, sharp sounds from the eyrie above will take some getting used to.

Something else Gela is not used to: having this much room to herself. She seems a little bewildered by this new privilege, welcoming anybody at the door by leaping to her feet and opening it for them, ushering them inside herself.

Don't mind the duck attempting to nest on the tail of a bolt of twill propped up in a corner. She was given a nice box and rejected it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Fifi isn't prepared for the effusiveness of Gela's hospitality when the door comes wrenching open after she's barely knocked: she stands in the doorway with a blindsided, wide-eyed look, tightly clutching her basket. She quickly transitions to a smile, however, as likely intended to reassure Gela as anything else.

"Ambassador," she greets with a little curtsy, "how are you finding your new office?"

Gela, barely concentrated, ducks her head in a sort of bow that would have been a curtsey if she weren't shuffling something fully out the way of the door. She seems a bit frazzled, her hair already coming loose from its tie.

"Big," she says. "Ignore the mess. And call me Gela. Can I help you?"

The alarming sight of Gela bowing back to her is almost enough to stop Fifi in her tracks, but instead she just laughs, a surprised and awkward but also unexpectedly warm sound.

"I'm," she begins, thrown off, "I came to see how you take your tea or coffee, and if you like your office kept any particular way." Continuing to smile, she adds, "I'll be the one overseeing it."

Glancing around at the clutter, she raises her eyebrows: "Can I help?"

"Overseeing...?"

Gela's tone is vague, her voice trailing off — she's moving something from one place to another. Ah, but the place she was going to put it is occupied with something else, so first she has to move that. This has been her entire day so far. She spits a strand of hair out of her mouth. "Yes please. Can you hold this for a moment?"

'This' is a shut box, only slightly heavy.

"Cleaning," Fifi clarifies, and steps forward to accept the box, turning her toes out to adjust her balance to its weight.

"--and keeping in order," she adds, glancing about with a questioning look: where does Gela want it?

Gela gestures with her chin in a direction.

"You don't have to clean in here," is sort of a funny thing to say when the place is a complete tip. Noticing the irony only serves to make her stop and laugh at herself for a moment, before she thunks a box down onto her desk. "It'll be in order soon, I promise. But thank you."

"Please," Fifi insists, transporting the box to its intended location and doing a little plié to lower it in place, "it's my job. I do it so you can spend your time doing... you know. Important Diplomacy things."

Her smile is sincere, a bit self-effacing: perhaps she isn't all that clear on what the Ambassador does, but she takes pride in her own work.

"Oh," Gela says and stops for a moment, breathing a little hard from the lifting. Tossing her head to get the hair out of her face (for now) her hands descend to her hips. "I didn't know that could be somebody's job."

To clean her office for her while she works? It feels... strange. Luxurious? Not very Gela. Working through it out loud, now gathering back her hair and turning to hunt on the desk for something to keep it that way she continues. "I'm not used to this yet. And I've barely started, I don't have a lot of important diplomacy things to do yet — could you help me, for now, and then we'll have tea together? And we can discuss the information you need."

The smile she shoots over her shoulder at Fifi mid hair-tie search is warm and sincere.

Fifi gives a resolute nod-- yes, it is somebody's job, and that somebody is her-- but she meets Gela's eyes, still smiling. Her expression turns to one of mild surprise at the request, and for a moment she doesn't know how to answer, but then Gela looks back at her.

"--yes, that should be fine," she decides. It's not that she doesn't fraternize with official Riftwatchers here and there, but it's always nice to be invited to do so.

"Alright. But do you mind if I ask you about yourself while we're moving things around together? Because I have to admit that I don't know you nearly as well as I should."

It's the nature of Fifi's job, Gela supposes: she is trying to be invisible in every room she's in. Doesn't mean she isn't interesting or worth knowing, though.

If she wasn't taken aback before, Fifi certainly is now, but after pausing a moment to deliberate, she shrugs a shoulder and nods. There's no harm in this, she supposes, and Gela has a sweetness about her that begs further time spent in the ambassador's presence.

"I-- I suppose," Fifi says, "what would you like to know?" Withdrawing a cloth from her apron, she wipes off a surface left dirty by a now-shifted crate.

What would she like to know? Gela thinks for a moment, then selects, "What do you like to do when you aren't working?"

She is moving back over to collect the next crate. Having somebody to talk with while she works will make it go so much faster — this was a good idea.

A simple enough question that still feels strange to answer, if only because Fifi is so used to not talking about it.

"Well," she says, and follows Gela over to the crate so she can dust after it and heft a second, "I've been learning to read for a while. And I go help out in the alienage, when I'm able." She offers a questioning nudge of her head-- where does this go?-- and her smile is a bit secretive as she adds, "and I dance."

"Oh—" Gela seizes on the titbit instantly, pointing at the place where it should go before she lifts. "You dance? That's fun! What sort?"

Fifi does look like a dancer actually now that Gela is looking at her with it in mind.

With a smile over her shoulder, Fifi brings the crate to set it down, then returns to where it had been to dust the surface.

"The, ah... nightclub sort," she admits, with a hint of amusement, "twirling, high kicks. Very scandalous." Did she just waggle her eyebrows?
"I perform here and there, mostly subbing in when a regular girl can't do it for some reason. I," and she pauses, as though about to say something profound, but the stillness collapses on itself in a sigh that's half-laugh. "...am too tired to be a regular."

[Open & shut] girls in STEM

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