Thread: Kryptonite (Belle and Father)

Well that was...unexpected. But then again, Jessie hadn't known what to expect from the moment he came into her apartment...so that was par for the course. Still, she couldn't help but feel like she'd gotten the wind knocked out of her when he let her go and disappeared out of the window. Jessie thought about calling out to him, saying or doing something to get him to stay...but that was stupid. He was...well...who he was. And Jessie was who she was - mortal, temporary, a speck of dust to him perhaps. A momentary distraction. Perhaps the kiss had been just an attempt to assure she wouldn't talk, a lingering incentive. Or maybe it meant nothing. Sometimes a kiss was just a kiss. Sometimes it was an ending instead of a beginning. And the way he'd left - what he'd said - he certainly viewed it so. And the last thing Jessie wanted was to whine or complain - being needy wasn't the kind of person she wanted to be. Jessie Olsen did not run after a man and beg him to stay. Not even a Super man. So she watched him vanish into the deep, dark sky of Metropolis and slowly reached forward to shut the window. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- You know, Ms. Olsen, I would remind you that your ass is on the line but I've heard it so many times I'm giving myself a headache! Jessie folded her arms in front of her lap and tried her hardest not to yawn in front of Editor Lane. It wasn't that Jessie was bored - though she agreed that Ms. Lane's lectures were starting to get repetitive - she just didn't do a good job of sleeping last night after Heman had left. This also meant that the fucks Jessie had to give were astronomically low. Right now she was mad at everything - mad at Ms. Lane for yelling at her again, mad at Heman for leaving so abruptly...and mad herself for even being upset in the first place. Ms. Lane, I don't know what to tell you, she said, exasperated. You're asking me for something that does not exist! I can't just waive a magic wand and magically give you a picture of the Superman engaging in a hostile criminal act! Photoshop isn't that good! From behind her desk, Editor Lane's nostrils flared when Jessie spoke. Lane was a woman who routinely got what she wanted - she had earned a reputation in Metropolis for getting the stories no one else could, for being relentless in her pursuits, and demanding everything from her staff up to an including blood. And so the look she gave Jessie was the same look she usually reserved for roaches. With her shoulders perfectly stiff and her fingers drumming against each other, she narrowed those eyes at Jessie and the girl could almost see the scales being weighed in the Editor's head. Which was more profitable? Firing her or keeping her around another day to vent at? You're exceedingly lucky that you were specifically asked by name to come with me on an assignment at the end of the week, Ms. Olsen, else you'd be shown the door for speaking in such a disrespectful manner. Jessie blinked. Specifically asked? By whom? None other than the man himself - Commander Paul Westerfield. He's the new head honcho at Cadmus and wants you there to document their debut as the new and improved Cadmus or some bull shit like that. So you will accompany me, and if I were you, I'd get down on my knee and thank him and whatever god you subscribe to that he asked for you - otherwise you'd not have any more paychecks from me, Ms. Olsen. Now get back to your desk and work on the Red Carpet feature. Jessie turned on her heels and left the office. For the first several moments the only thing she could think of wasn't 'holy crap my job is safe' or 'I should bring this Paul Westerfield a basket of muffins'...she could only think of Heman. Cadmus had been the one trying to destroy him and his two companions last year...and now they were asking for her. The day after she met him. The day after they... Jessie shook her head to shake away both the stupid anxiety and even more stupid memories... What she should be focusing on is her gratitude that she still had a job, damn it. And so she would force herself to focus on that. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Dressed in a classic black sweater with a white scalloped collar out of the top of the sweater and a tweed skirt that came down to her knees, Jessie tucked a strand of hair anxiously out of her face as she walked with Editor Lane and her assistant and cousin Lucy down the halls of Cadmus. In these few days since Lane had told her of this assignment, Jessie had done a fair bit of research on the new and improved Cadmus. Which had been easy...since there had been no more late night visits and Jessie's life had gone back to being eerily normal...as though the events of that night were nothing but a very strange dream. Since the tragedy of last year, Cadmus intel had been next to nothing - silent for the most part - with CEO Paul Westerfield only coming out to say that big changes were in store, and they were hoping to gain favor back in the public's eye. An endorsement from President Waller meant a saving grace for their stock portfolio, and a photo of Westerfield shaking her hand meant 'the promise of a better tomorrow for Cadmus'. Jessie kept that in mind as they walked through the impressive glass atrium of the Cadmus building, weaving around bits of green foliage and impressive water sculpture fountain, and headed into the elevator. Editor Lane was snapping at Lucy for something but Jessie tuned her out as she looked out of the glass window of the elevator at the floors they rose above. She felt her mind reaching back - to the exhilaration of being in his arms, floating just those few feet above thr ground and - Stop it, she muttered to herself. Did you say something? Lucy Lane asked, her dark hair pulled up in a messy bun on the top of her head as her blue eyes looked at Jessie. Nothing. Just talking to myself, Jessie replied. Editor Lane scoffed as she checked her reflection in her compact once more before exiting the elevator and making her way down the hall towards the only door on this pent-house like floor. A door which held a plaque that read 'Mr. Paul Westerfield, CEO'. Editor Lane reached forward to knock on his door as Jessie double checked to make sure the camera around her neck was ready to go.