Blurred Lines

caldecott_icon.png rylie_icon.png

Where: Mayor's Office

When: April 18, 2012

What: He's looking out for her, even if it is a total buzzkill.

The Mayor had come in early today. A few things he wanted to get done before the rest of the staff would make it's way in, including his own secretary. Wait, no, Assistant. It's not PC to call them secretaries these days.

But he wasn't the only thing to have come early today and when the time rolls around for people to start filtering in, when Rylie shows up for her day at work, her Boss is staring at her desk with a far from happy look on his face.

The subject of his ire is a crystal vase, large enough to hold three dozen roses of the most vibrant - and perfectly bloomed - roses. A notecard on top, presumably what he's looking at with his arms crossed and over the rims of his thick framed glasses.

Rylie isn't used to the boss looming over her desk, especially looking so grumpy. Her first instinct is to check her phone for the time, because she was so sure she got here on time. It's only when she takes a second look toward the Mayor that she notices the flowers.

And if they get a smile blooming on her face, who can blame her.

"Good morning," she says to her boss before setting her bag down under her desk. She tries not to go for the flowers right away, professionalism and all, but as she looks his way again, her fingers reach for the card. "Something important happening today?" And she manages to ask before her gaze dips to read the message.

In handwriting that in no way can actually be that of the person who delivered the flowers or assembled them, is a message.

I couldn't help but remember the other night. We must do it again soon. G. Crain

That might be the reason he's frowning even as there's a slightly terse "Office" and he's turning on his heel to disappear into the stately room before that has housed so many more of the city's Mayors.

There's a look from the note to the roses, and while Rylie is smart enough not to go grinning with the Mayor looking at her, when he heads to his office, she take just a second to lean over to smell the roses. And there might be a grin.

But she follows soon after him, the note tucked into a pocket and her expression schooled into a more subdued state. Flattered, though, she can't hide that entirely.

"You can't go out with him" He stops by his desk, one hand in a pocket the other down at his side with fingertips pressed to the desk as he looks up. A gesture for the door to be closed behind her. "Again" Since clearly she's done so once already.

Those words are plenty motivation for her to close the door behind her. It's the last thing she wants the office gossiping about, after all. "I'm not going out with him," she says, as if the definition of the relationship matters. And maybe it does, to her.

"And why not? It isn't going to affect my job performance," she says, a hand moving to her hip.

Nostrils flare. He gets enough defiance from Zan, and this perceived defiance from Rylie just notches his irritation up a little more. Not that he has any right to. It's not like she's his daughter. And besides, the office gossips about other things regarding him and her.

"He sleeps around. The man thinks monogamy is a kind of wood that his desk is made out of. I've seen too many girl charmed by him and then he tosses them. I will not let you become one of them. Return the flowers" The hand that had been touching the desk lifts to wave his hand at the door in regards to the blooms on the other side.

Rylie can't help a laugh at the pun, especially because it's so very true, but the sound moves from amused to disbelieving as he goes on, since she cannot believe she's having this conversation with her boss. Her hands come up to drag down her face while she tries to figure out exactly how she's going to handle this conversation.

It doesn't seem to occur to her to mention that it isn't exactly appropriate for boss-to-subordinate relations, but that fatherly treatment seems to be something she's long since accepted.

"I'm not some naive thing, James," she says, her face crinkling a bit from the discomfort of having to discuss her sex life with someone who's both boss and father figure. "It's just a casual thing. I'm not getting charmed, not that way." He is charming, after all.

"He has a gift"

Since telling her he's a cad's not working.

"He has a gift and he will not be above positioning himself to abuse yours" There. He's said it. He looks grumpy to have said it. It's also not the most comfortable of topics to be talking with her about either.

Rylie opens her mouth, but it closes a moment later and she tilts her head just a bit as she looks over at him. It isn't defiance that meets him this time, but just a thread of worry that draws her eyebrows together.

"Does he know about mine?" It's almost a whisper, that question, and there's a glance toward the door before she steps deeper into the room. She does seem more wary about being found out than being romanced by an older man with commitment issues.

"I don't know. Possibly. Maybe. I've never known him to come around for a second run at the women he wines and dines." He breathes out though his nose, regretting even needing this conversation. "I know what he can do and it's possible. It all depends. I knew, about your first date. I figured it was just a co-incidence. But now-" But now.

There's an ability caught up in the mix. "He may not know. He may just want to have a second night with you is all." He concedes that. James Caldecott will concede to that. It's note entirely unheard of.

Letting out a sigh, Rylie drops her hands back to her sides. "You really know how to take the flutter out of getting flowers, you know that?" But still. It's a good warning to have.

"Well, maybe. I mean, it is me," she says with a crooked smile, playful, "But let's be practical here." Clearly, she doesn't think she has much to entice someone like Gordon Crain that every other woman doesn't also have. But still…

"I'll be careful."

"If we were being practical, I'd lock you away in a basement and never let anyone near you" He points out, remaining by his desk and not stepping closer. "But that's practical and you are being impractical. You are a gorgeous woman, you made my wife nervous when I first hired you and there's a reason that everyone thinks that you are more than just a secretary" He reaches up, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Jsut be careful with him, do you understand? THere'd be very little I could do, to protect you" Short of calling in a favor with someone else. Someone he didn't really want to.

"Then they'd really start to talk," Rylie says with a chuckle at the idea of sticking her in a basement. "And it's personal assistant, Mister Caldecott," she reminds, using the more professional address ironically, at the moment.

"I'll take care. You won't have to rescue me. I don't much like the idea of people finding out what I can do, either." She idly straightens a stack of papers on his desk, her gaze drifting to the typed pages. "And thanks. For looking out for me." there's just a little pause before she looks up again, a playul smile coming to her face.

"But I can keep the flowers, right?"

Beleaguered sigh. "Steph would have my head if I didn't. Just, you can keep a few on your desk, but the rest go home tonight, understood? Don't need all the women in the building thinking I gave them to you. It's bad enough already" Now he moves, behind the desk, taking up his spot in his seat. "And we need to get going. So go back to being my secretary and fill me in on my day" Waves a hand in dismissal to her. They've had their birds and bee's talk. No more needs to be said.

"I suppose I can tone them down a little," Rylie concedes, and as he turns the conversation back to business, she throws a salute before turning to head for the door.

"Itinerary'll be in your email in a sec!" The promise made as she slips back out to her desk. She'll shuffle the flowers after settling in.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License