Im So Sorry This Is . .. . . . . . Literally A Week Later Forgive Me. - Blog Posts
as much as ricardo's stunt had send effie into a tizzy ... it has sparked a fire under the register's ass. maybe, in a way, it was what was needed. a new spark that wasn't a body or new missing person— but a spark is all it took to birth a blaze. who else would post an anonymous shot in the dark tip? what the fuck else would he approve to be printed onto the web? the passion of recording may have been rekindled, but the weight of fool's gold could send them all into the pits of hell. in this she isn't immune to the bustle ; greeting a few interns, reviewing a concept piece, scratching about her own ideas ( one, specifically, centered around the elusive wanted man ). a little busy bee. buzzing , buzzing all around until it collides with a windshield— out of the corner of her eye she sees the man before his approach. recognizes him in an instant. local fucking celebrities, the talbots. had the town so deep in their pockets, it's astonishing how they're not sinking into the pits themselves. at least, on paper. politicians, even the small kind, love to put on a show. luckily, effie is of that same blood. not a celebrity, but a woman that could paint herself a portrait to please any painter. forget dragging herself to hell when she could paint it in a fantasy. " nathan talbot. " immediate reply in her heel-turn. meets his stride halfway with the raise of a brow towards a coffee.
" busy, interesting. sure, you could say that. " a hand rests to her hip as she studies him. a nasty habit of hers. looking for the fault ; a misprint. people were their own stories with missing pages and different details ommitted depending on its reader. " well, i've been busy. you've seen the front page, heard the buzz. i know you keep yourself well informed. " she hums, " but not enough to know charolette's also busy. " a slight pinch, but she offers it as a jest. pairs it with a light-hearted chuckle. a pinkish red tint for this particular portrait. despite her own columns about this family, she tends to return a good show. wants to dig some of nathan's fool's gold from his pockets. find the cracks. see what exactly he likes to paint. " but you're in luck, someone else here could use that coffee. " the hand resting on her hip raises to grab the second coffee in his hand. what it is, doesn't matter. this action is both to make a point and quench the crave for caffeine. takes a quick sip of it before she continues her brush strokes. " humor me. play a little pretend interview. " the hand with what's now her coffee gestures around, eyes following with the motion. " what's your thoughts on all this? i can't help myself but to ask the man 'in charge', after all. call me greedy. " another sip and a smirk just behind the brim. " gotta have more to say than just asking how i'm doing, or am i wrong? "
𝖫𝖮𝖢𝖠𝖳𝖨𝖮𝖭 : the register, 12:30pm 𝖲𝖳𝖠𝖳𝖴𝖲 : closed for effie floyd @c0nnectdots
despite the news that's been plaguing the town for days now, one thing prevails in nathan's mind: keeping up a facade. of course, it isn't like he's being forced into this charade, in fact his intentions are halfway to genuine, but playing pretend when everything else is falling apart around him is easier than having to face the wreck. so here he is, standing by the front desk of the register with two cups of afternoon coffee, one to give to his beloved wife whom he is allegedly wholly committed to — except charlotte isn't there, because apparently she just left for lunch, so now he looks like an idiot standing by the entrance with two quickly cooling coffees and a mildly bruised ego over his failed attempt at being a good husband. that's when he sees effie in the corner of his eye, and turns on his heel. “ miss effie floyd, ” he calls out smoothly, sauntering over with a picture-perfect grin plastered on his face. “ must be a busy day today, ” he remarks, gesturing around him as various employees walk in and out and around the bulding. “ how've you been? there's been . . . quite a number of interesting stories as of late. ”