tushanshu | 003 ♛ video

Good morning, Keeliai.

[ Monet's seated, her clothes neatly pressed, colours deliberately chosen to contrast the comfortable seat in front of her console, one leg crossed over the other. She hasn't found any nail polish a-turtle yet, or she'd be wearing that as well. Her tone is pleasantly pitched, and even-keeled. ]

My name is Monet Saint-Croix, and I'm acquainted with several kedan who're willing to accept temporary assistance from Foreigners for tasks our gifts are more suited to handling [ i.e., with superpowers ]. This is an excellent opportunity to get more involved with the local community, and perhaps improve relations. [ a polite smile to punctuate ]

If you're interested in helping, kindly come to the office [ a location ping in the Metal Sector ] provide your name, the types of cases you're accustomed to handling, and where we can reach you if a suitable match turns up. Should you wish to be a part of the venture but under a [ her nose wrinkles, just barely: she can't believe she's about to say this ] superhero identity, that can be negotiated. Payment will be by commission, depending on how satisfactorily you complete your task.

If you have any questions you may direct them to this console. [ A short pause, for another smile. ] We look forward to working with you.

[ And with that, she turns off the feed. ]

[ooc: feel free to jump straight to action, she'll be at the office all day. ooc planning post is here, job list is here, and do fill out telepathy permissions if you have time, thank you.]

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[Layla was lurking in the background during Monet's beautiful broadcast. She isn't nearly as well-dressed, but that was nothing new. Sorry, Monet, you'll need to work on her fashion sense a little bit more.]

So I'll take it I'll be manning the desk, without Pip around? [She missed the little asshole. Who else was gonna get into in-depth discussions about Game of Thrones with her?]

We still need a name.

[After cutting the feed, Monet takes a brief moment to compose herself before glancing over to Layla. To a stranger the lapse is unnoticeable, but Monet's always been more open around her friends. Poor fashion or not, Layla is one of the things keeping Monet grounded. Sure, she's met all these people and she thinks a few of them might be trustworthy, but at the end of the day, she lives with Layla.]

We can take turns. I don't mind taking the first shift. [Did she just leave an opening for a remark about being a pretty face? Maybe.] What name would you suggest?

You're the face they already associate this with. I'll just throw them off. [She's taking the opportunity.] Gotta greet 'em with a pretty face. Ric would send them running in the opposite direction.

[Nah. Ric's handsome. Scruffy and rugged, but pretty handsome.]

I've got no idea, I've been thinking about it since you came up with the idea. [She glances down at her feet for a moment, before admitting:] I thought maybe the Madrox Agency, but that's really silly.

[She loves Jamie. And he's waiting for her back at home in a freezer. Ric said he'll be back. But Monet has no idea. And, unfortunately, she can't tell Monet. Time to pep back up.] We could make a terrible portmanteau of our names, too. Saint Riller.

Being sneaky now are we?

[It has its advantage. Layla can take the stealth option. Ric wouldn't sit still behind a desk, not when there were things to do out there.]

[Her expression softens, and she presses her lips together, debating what she's about to say. Layla's heart rate, dilated pupils, all physical indications of love. Monet sighs, internally.]

No terrible portmanteaus. [but she just can't ignore her friend in pain, sue her. She blurts out:] I'm going to tell you the same thing I told Terry: there's embryos more mature than Madrox.

When have I not been sneaky?

[So she's back to being the glorified secretary, which is just fine with her. If only she knew stuff here, the same way she did back home. That would make all of this so much easier. She would have just told them the name of this agency, and that would have been it.]

So we're not going to call it the Renesmee, then. Good. [But oh gods, Monet, no. Don't bring up the Terry thing. That was... That whole thing was a huge mess, she wasn't even there for part of it, and returning home to find her future husband with a gun pressed to his head...

She swallows hard.] Can we not talk about that, Monet? Please? [With Jamie... things were complicated for her. She'd never been a kid, and she'd proven that to him, but watching him with other women? When she knew? When it had just been a sort of strange school-girl-esque crush? Still had been hard.]

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