[log] Cirucci, Lori
Log Title: Some Meeting
Characters: Cirucci (shinigamikender) and Lori (fanfare)
Timeline: January 15, 2007
Rating: PG
Summary: After being kicked out of the Arrancar and getting a letter threatening her place at Hougyoku Records, Cirucci goes to Aizen’s office, only to find Lori there instead.
Needless to say, the first month had been... a transitional period.
Lori had been given her fair share of celebrity encounters as a teenager, thanks to backstage passes at concerts and that awkward little modeling schtick. Mind, these tended to be B-list celebrities enjoying their fifteen seconds of fame, but to Lori, they were celebrities all the same. But here? Lori was growing rather used to standing quietly at the door or by her boss’ side while he talked to people that had looked much shorter on television.
Nothing was stranger than calling these musicians, either. Most girls would freeze up at the opportunity to call their favourite stars, but not Lori. She could talk a mile a minute, if she wanted to.
And then there were the encounters in the offices.
Lori was working, and working hard. Aizen had left a sizable stack of memos for her, and there were mounds of paperwork to sort through, phone calls to make, a desk to tidy, and emails to send. That was precisely why she was sitting at his desk, petite in the massive leather chair. She folded one leg over the other and rummaged for a paperclip. He had gone to a meeting, and hadn’t returned. If he was going to be late returning to the office, that was fine by her. She had things to finish anyway.
That and he kept some very interesting stuff lying around.
As long as no one came in with an issue she couldn’t address on Aizen’s behalf, Lori would be just fine doing menial secretarial work.
The letter had come through this morning, another dangerous little mark on Cirucci's contract, something she wasn't about to let slip. Her agent had told her not to cause too much trouble, a request she had grudgingly agreed to after Grimmjow had kicked her out. The last thing she needed was for one of them to have an excuse to knock her off Hougyoku for good, especially when she hadn't gotten enough ready to sell herself as a solo artist.
This, however, was underhanded even for someone like Aizen and his lawyers. Cirucci forced her way through security, many of them knowing her temper from her years as lead singer of the Arrancar and burst into Aizen's office, the crumpled letter still in her hand, a tribute to her newfound control on her temper that it was still in one piece.
Dark, bird-like eyes fixed on the girl behind the desk, "Where is he?"
Oh, of all people.
When the door opened with a bang, Lori sat up straighter and looked up. When she saw the visitor was an intruder and definitely not Aizen himself, she frowned. Cirucci? The Cirucci? She was definitely a lot prettier when she wasn’t a raging ball of fury. Lori wondered whether it was the lack of airbrushing or if Cirucci was simply having a terrible day.
Likely a combination of both.
“He is out,” she said, clipped. “If you need to speak with him, I will leave him a message and have him get back to you as soon as possible.”
Um, where were the security guards, huh? Weren’t they paid to do their jobs and not let the uninvited waltz (or, in this case, rage) their way into Aizen’s private office?
Cirucci scoffed. It figured he'd be out. Knowing Aizen, he had probably even planned to be out for most of the day, knowing that the letter would arrive sometime that day. He was too damn smart for his own good.
"No, I don't want to leave a message," Cirucci had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. Why on earth would she bother doing that? This was personal now. She had no intention of letting this slide by with just a message.
"I want you to get up and call him in from wherever he's hiding."
Diva much? Like Aizen's schedule revolved around anyone but himself, and Lori had her doubts about it bending for one of his artists when it probably wasn't that big of a deal.
"I'm sorry," she replied. "I have been instructed not to interrupt it unless it's an emergency."
It was difficult to be diplomatic. She paused, and offered a smile that was extremely lacking in sincerity. Just to be polite. Sort of.
"Is it an emergency?"
"I'd say it is," Cirucci sniffed, shaking back her hair, hating at the messy feeling it had without product or some sort of style to hold it back. She hadn't spent too much time getting ready for this visit, which was why she felt more than a little off.
"Unless you'd rather I just went straight to his lawyers for what he just tried to pull," Cirucci cocked her head to the side, an ugly look in her eyes.
Her eyebrows furrowed, and her smile faded. Must have been something awful serious, she thought dryly, or she’s just as much of a diva as everyone says. Lori flipped one ponytail over her shoulder.
"Sorry," she said, crisply. She put the rather tall stack of papers that had been sitting on her lap onto the surface on the desk, neatly sorted by date and name. "Mr. Aizen is the one who determines what's an emergency and what isn't, and I can't bother him just because you come in here and threaten lawyers. I need to know what the problem is."
"The problem is Mr. Aizen has decided that maybe threatening to terminate my contract is better than waiting to see how I turn out as a solo artist," Cirucci snapped. She hadn't wanted to explain herself, because she knew she'd end up explaining it again and again until someone finally decided to put her directly through to Aizen.
"We had an agreement and he knows not to pull this kind of thing with me."
“If it’s just a threat, it’s not an emergency,” Lori replied, looking up from the papers. The pile teetered dangerously to one side, and she put out a hand to steady it. “Now, if he was saying he’d terminate your contract within the next, say, hour, without contacting him, that’d be an emergency. But seeing as that’s not the case, he’ll be back in soon, and you can either take a seat and wait or go somewhere else to wait.”
Mr. Aizen was a busy, busy man, and between bothering Aizen and facing his wrath or holding Cirucci off and facing hers, Lori was definitely siding with her boss. She had her paycheck to consider, after all.
What? No raging, screaming fit? For all the drama Lori had come to believe commonplace when Cirucci was around, she was expecting quite a lot more hissy fit nonsense.
But that was alright. Lori wasn’t exactly pleased about Cirucci choosing to hang around. It was harder to snoop, (er, organize) through files with other people around. But she’d survive.
And she couldn’t recall a time where she’d had a room to herself with a celebrity. And as long as this one refused to break eye contact, Lori wouldn’t either. Her hand hovered over the papers.
“So what really happened between you and Grimmjow? Gossip says so much it’s hard to keep it all straight,” she said, casually.
Picking at wounds? Maybe.
Cirucci sighed. If she got a dollar for every time someone asked her about the blue-haired idiot, she wouldn't even have to worry about going solo. She didn't even see why so many were interested in him, why she had been interested in him for that short period before everything went to help. She curled her fingers, turning her attention back to Lori with no shortness of petulance.
"You mean the break-up? Or the relationship?" Cirucci asked, shaking back her dark curls.
“Either or. I’ve heard weird stuff from both sides.”
The mundane life was so boring, Lori supposed, that everyone was always so desperate to hear about people with far more drama. It didn’t matter if these people were losing their jobs, relationships, or their contracts - ha ha! - the mundanes just wanted to KNOW. That’s why celebrity gossip mags thrived, frankly.
If Cirucci wanted worldwide fame and beloved international fans, Lori figured she could ease up on the petulance on such a contained level. Come on. She wasn’t exactly A-list until she became a household name, in Lori’s opinion.
"Well," Cirucci settled back in her chair. If she had the time, she might as well use it properly, she thought. Like the properly bred (if spoiled) young woman that she was raised to be, she folded her hands in her lap.
"I guess, it's your average relationship. I dug him out of the trash where he was making pennies and liquor, made him a star. He thanked me by screwing me over in more ways than one," she was incredibly coy, keeping the details short and cute, "And, so, I had to dump him and leave him and the others to scrounge together what they could without my vocals."
“Yeah?” she said, flippantly.
Sounded like a pretty predictable answer.
Lori turned to the side, slightly, to wake up the computer and key in passwords. The screen brightened up. Aizen’s mail gave her a rather foreboding answer - four hundred and thirty five new messages, and none of it spam. There went her afternoon. She opened up a new message screen and keyed in his personal email address, the one that would connect to his cellphone. Aizen had a billion email addresses, extending far beyond his personal email.
Might as well let him know Cirucci was here, even if he was rather slow about actually checking it.
“I bet that slap hurt, though. He's got pretty incredible arms.”
"Like a bitch," Cirucci rolled her eyes. And she had to keep quiet about the whole affair to get a cent of the profits from the band, something she was none too happy to do.
"He doesn't exactly discriminate between men and women, either. Irritatingly enough," she scoffed, "He hit just as hard as if I were Di Roy or something."
"That sucks," she said, and while still facing the computer she smiled, just to sugar-coat it with an odd sort of politeness.
Lori scrolled through emails rapidly, sorting them by purpose and sender. Gin, Gin, Gin, random people, Gin, Gin... more random people, underlings, and some suspiciously spam-like thing about cabana beach houses. Lori deleted that one with a savage sort of grin. Die, junk mail!
"I dunno who Di Roy is, but I'm guessing he's some guy-enemy of his?" she mused. She supposed that made sense, but didn't stop to think about it too much. "But I suppose that it is kind of rude to hit you as if you were a guy. Which means one of two things."
She paused, looking away from the computer screen and to Cirucci.
"Either he thinks you're one of the guys, or you were really asking for it."
"Di Roy being his little ever-worshiping shadow," Cirucci wrinkled her nose at the fact that she was even mentioning him in reasonably polite conversation. It didn't matter, though, she didn't have the other girl's full attention and, for once, she was a little glad for the fact.
"I'm not sure whether I'd hope for the later or the former, though."
"A shadow to a person who smacked you up, well," Lori replied, "you'd have to wonder what he sees in Grimmjow."
There was some big complicated email about some guy (who kept misspelling his own name) having millions of dollars and needing a way to get it out of some war-torn obscure country, he was asking, please, Sir, can you give me your bank account so I can put it in, because I am not eighteen? Lori thought this was awful stupid - so what if they were offering a few million of the inheritance, just to use the bank account? Delete. Aizen already had millions and millions of bucks, anyway! And what sort of moron misspelt their own name, or the name of their clients?
She glanced at the clock. Maybe he'd be out now? Lori pulled out her Blackberry and texted Aizen with a curt "Cirrucci here + whining. When will she see you? <3 "
He'd probably find a detour, and stop to do something mundane, pointless and time consuming, like purchase a villa in a small war-torn country, to avoid Cirucci. Or something like that.
"I dunno, I mean, a bunch of the press seemed to think you were getting to be a spoiled priss."
"Damned if I know," Cirucci gave an elegant little shrug, eyes moving back to her nails, inspecting the polish again as if it might have chipped or been damaged in the interim. "He follows him around like a lost puppy. Worships the ground he shits on."
"But, it's not like I was the only one who was getting that way, either, you know," she continued on, her voice smooth and bored, "I was just the one most people were more interested in taking down."
“Really? Well, if you say so. I guess it makes sense - of course everyone went for you, you’re the girl of the group, huh? Women are vicious things, honestly.”
Another smile.
Good thing Lori could do an obscene amount of words per minute on those teeny tiny cell phone keyboards, and with her thumbs, to boot. Aizen’s text back was fired back within moments, and Lori could pound another one out even faster. A sliiiiightly wicked smile moved over her face as she read it. Ooh. This would be fun to break.
“Look, Ms. Cirucci,” she said, layering on the sugar-coated tones and the smiles, one by one. “I’m told he ran into an acquaintance on his way over, and they’ll be going out for lunch and a drink. If you’d like to wait another, oh, say, four hours, that’s alright, but it's your call.”
Sort of. There WAS the fact that she had to close up his office when she had to go out to run errands, and there was no way she could leave Cirucci sitting in Aizen’s office, all alone. Not only did that violate Aizen’s company rules, but it would also give her plenty of time to snoop.
“But, see, thing is... I have to go out for errands so you really can’t just sit around here, “ she continued. "You'd have to go anyway."
Cirucci could tell when she was being blown off, but she really didn't feel like protesting the fact at this point. Bitterness tasted so much better when it was shared with someone else and the talk about those who had wronged her had all but helped her forget her reason for coming down.
"Fine," she smiled, tightly, "I'll make an appointment proper tomorrow. I'd assume Aizen will be free by then?"
“We’ll see what we can do!”
She opened up Aizen’s calendar to the bookmarked page, and scanned down the time, piece by piece. After a quick scan through the afternoon proved useless, she backtracked to the morning hours.
“Eight A.M. sharp?” she said. “Otherwise we can do...”
More scanning.
“The day after, at eleven A.M.?”
"Eight A.M. sounds lovely," Cirucci shifted her purse. There were very few ways Aizen could slink out of meeting her that early in the morning, after all, and with a few cups of coffee, she'd be quite sharp enough to nip this whole problem at the bud.
"Thank you for your time," she smiled with that plasticy sweetness that made her a media darling when she wanted to be.
Surely no one could be awake enough to rage about legal contract matters at eight in the morning.
“Fab,” Lori said, and she noted it down. Cirucci... eight in the morning... meeting over contract... After a second’s thought, she scrawled down a warning of do not cancel, she is upset. :( Not that he didn’t know what he was getting into, but better safe than sorry.
“No problem,” she smiled. “Have fun with... whatever you’re doing next, huh?”
Characters: Cirucci (shinigamikender) and Lori (fanfare)
Timeline: January 15, 2007
Rating: PG
Summary: After being kicked out of the Arrancar and getting a letter threatening her place at Hougyoku Records, Cirucci goes to Aizen’s office, only to find Lori there instead.
Needless to say, the first month had been... a transitional period.
Lori had been given her fair share of celebrity encounters as a teenager, thanks to backstage passes at concerts and that awkward little modeling schtick. Mind, these tended to be B-list celebrities enjoying their fifteen seconds of fame, but to Lori, they were celebrities all the same. But here? Lori was growing rather used to standing quietly at the door or by her boss’ side while he talked to people that had looked much shorter on television.
Nothing was stranger than calling these musicians, either. Most girls would freeze up at the opportunity to call their favourite stars, but not Lori. She could talk a mile a minute, if she wanted to.
And then there were the encounters in the offices.
Lori was working, and working hard. Aizen had left a sizable stack of memos for her, and there were mounds of paperwork to sort through, phone calls to make, a desk to tidy, and emails to send. That was precisely why she was sitting at his desk, petite in the massive leather chair. She folded one leg over the other and rummaged for a paperclip. He had gone to a meeting, and hadn’t returned. If he was going to be late returning to the office, that was fine by her. She had things to finish anyway.
That and he kept some very interesting stuff lying around.
As long as no one came in with an issue she couldn’t address on Aizen’s behalf, Lori would be just fine doing menial secretarial work.
The letter had come through this morning, another dangerous little mark on Cirucci's contract, something she wasn't about to let slip. Her agent had told her not to cause too much trouble, a request she had grudgingly agreed to after Grimmjow had kicked her out. The last thing she needed was for one of them to have an excuse to knock her off Hougyoku for good, especially when she hadn't gotten enough ready to sell herself as a solo artist.
This, however, was underhanded even for someone like Aizen and his lawyers. Cirucci forced her way through security, many of them knowing her temper from her years as lead singer of the Arrancar and burst into Aizen's office, the crumpled letter still in her hand, a tribute to her newfound control on her temper that it was still in one piece.
Dark, bird-like eyes fixed on the girl behind the desk, "Where is he?"
Oh, of all people.
When the door opened with a bang, Lori sat up straighter and looked up. When she saw the visitor was an intruder and definitely not Aizen himself, she frowned. Cirucci? The Cirucci? She was definitely a lot prettier when she wasn’t a raging ball of fury. Lori wondered whether it was the lack of airbrushing or if Cirucci was simply having a terrible day.
Likely a combination of both.
“He is out,” she said, clipped. “If you need to speak with him, I will leave him a message and have him get back to you as soon as possible.”
Um, where were the security guards, huh? Weren’t they paid to do their jobs and not let the uninvited waltz (or, in this case, rage) their way into Aizen’s private office?
Cirucci scoffed. It figured he'd be out. Knowing Aizen, he had probably even planned to be out for most of the day, knowing that the letter would arrive sometime that day. He was too damn smart for his own good.
"No, I don't want to leave a message," Cirucci had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. Why on earth would she bother doing that? This was personal now. She had no intention of letting this slide by with just a message.
"I want you to get up and call him in from wherever he's hiding."
Diva much? Like Aizen's schedule revolved around anyone but himself, and Lori had her doubts about it bending for one of his artists when it probably wasn't that big of a deal.
"I'm sorry," she replied. "I have been instructed not to interrupt it unless it's an emergency."
It was difficult to be diplomatic. She paused, and offered a smile that was extremely lacking in sincerity. Just to be polite. Sort of.
"Is it an emergency?"
"I'd say it is," Cirucci sniffed, shaking back her hair, hating at the messy feeling it had without product or some sort of style to hold it back. She hadn't spent too much time getting ready for this visit, which was why she felt more than a little off.
"Unless you'd rather I just went straight to his lawyers for what he just tried to pull," Cirucci cocked her head to the side, an ugly look in her eyes.
Her eyebrows furrowed, and her smile faded. Must have been something awful serious, she thought dryly, or she’s just as much of a diva as everyone says. Lori flipped one ponytail over her shoulder.
"Sorry," she said, crisply. She put the rather tall stack of papers that had been sitting on her lap onto the surface on the desk, neatly sorted by date and name. "Mr. Aizen is the one who determines what's an emergency and what isn't, and I can't bother him just because you come in here and threaten lawyers. I need to know what the problem is."
"The problem is Mr. Aizen has decided that maybe threatening to terminate my contract is better than waiting to see how I turn out as a solo artist," Cirucci snapped. She hadn't wanted to explain herself, because she knew she'd end up explaining it again and again until someone finally decided to put her directly through to Aizen.
"We had an agreement and he knows not to pull this kind of thing with me."
“If it’s just a threat, it’s not an emergency,” Lori replied, looking up from the papers. The pile teetered dangerously to one side, and she put out a hand to steady it. “Now, if he was saying he’d terminate your contract within the next, say, hour, without contacting him, that’d be an emergency. But seeing as that’s not the case, he’ll be back in soon, and you can either take a seat and wait or go somewhere else to wait.”
Mr. Aizen was a busy, busy man, and between bothering Aizen and facing his wrath or holding Cirucci off and facing hers, Lori was definitely siding with her boss. She had her paycheck to consider, after all.
What? No raging, screaming fit? For all the drama Lori had come to believe commonplace when Cirucci was around, she was expecting quite a lot more hissy fit nonsense.
But that was alright. Lori wasn’t exactly pleased about Cirucci choosing to hang around. It was harder to snoop, (er, organize) through files with other people around. But she’d survive.
And she couldn’t recall a time where she’d had a room to herself with a celebrity. And as long as this one refused to break eye contact, Lori wouldn’t either. Her hand hovered over the papers.
“So what really happened between you and Grimmjow? Gossip says so much it’s hard to keep it all straight,” she said, casually.
Picking at wounds? Maybe.
Cirucci sighed. If she got a dollar for every time someone asked her about the blue-haired idiot, she wouldn't even have to worry about going solo. She didn't even see why so many were interested in him, why she had been interested in him for that short period before everything went to help. She curled her fingers, turning her attention back to Lori with no shortness of petulance.
"You mean the break-up? Or the relationship?" Cirucci asked, shaking back her dark curls.
“Either or. I’ve heard weird stuff from both sides.”
The mundane life was so boring, Lori supposed, that everyone was always so desperate to hear about people with far more drama. It didn’t matter if these people were losing their jobs, relationships, or their contracts - ha ha! - the mundanes just wanted to KNOW. That’s why celebrity gossip mags thrived, frankly.
If Cirucci wanted worldwide fame and beloved international fans, Lori figured she could ease up on the petulance on such a contained level. Come on. She wasn’t exactly A-list until she became a household name, in Lori’s opinion.
"Well," Cirucci settled back in her chair. If she had the time, she might as well use it properly, she thought. Like the properly bred (if spoiled) young woman that she was raised to be, she folded her hands in her lap.
"I guess, it's your average relationship. I dug him out of the trash where he was making pennies and liquor, made him a star. He thanked me by screwing me over in more ways than one," she was incredibly coy, keeping the details short and cute, "And, so, I had to dump him and leave him and the others to scrounge together what they could without my vocals."
“Yeah?” she said, flippantly.
Sounded like a pretty predictable answer.
Lori turned to the side, slightly, to wake up the computer and key in passwords. The screen brightened up. Aizen’s mail gave her a rather foreboding answer - four hundred and thirty five new messages, and none of it spam. There went her afternoon. She opened up a new message screen and keyed in his personal email address, the one that would connect to his cellphone. Aizen had a billion email addresses, extending far beyond his personal email.
Might as well let him know Cirucci was here, even if he was rather slow about actually checking it.
“I bet that slap hurt, though. He's got pretty incredible arms.”
"Like a bitch," Cirucci rolled her eyes. And she had to keep quiet about the whole affair to get a cent of the profits from the band, something she was none too happy to do.
"He doesn't exactly discriminate between men and women, either. Irritatingly enough," she scoffed, "He hit just as hard as if I were Di Roy or something."
"That sucks," she said, and while still facing the computer she smiled, just to sugar-coat it with an odd sort of politeness.
Lori scrolled through emails rapidly, sorting them by purpose and sender. Gin, Gin, Gin, random people, Gin, Gin... more random people, underlings, and some suspiciously spam-like thing about cabana beach houses. Lori deleted that one with a savage sort of grin. Die, junk mail!
"I dunno who Di Roy is, but I'm guessing he's some guy-enemy of his?" she mused. She supposed that made sense, but didn't stop to think about it too much. "But I suppose that it is kind of rude to hit you as if you were a guy. Which means one of two things."
She paused, looking away from the computer screen and to Cirucci.
"Either he thinks you're one of the guys, or you were really asking for it."
"Di Roy being his little ever-worshiping shadow," Cirucci wrinkled her nose at the fact that she was even mentioning him in reasonably polite conversation. It didn't matter, though, she didn't have the other girl's full attention and, for once, she was a little glad for the fact.
"I'm not sure whether I'd hope for the later or the former, though."
"A shadow to a person who smacked you up, well," Lori replied, "you'd have to wonder what he sees in Grimmjow."
There was some big complicated email about some guy (who kept misspelling his own name) having millions of dollars and needing a way to get it out of some war-torn obscure country, he was asking, please, Sir, can you give me your bank account so I can put it in, because I am not eighteen? Lori thought this was awful stupid - so what if they were offering a few million of the inheritance, just to use the bank account? Delete. Aizen already had millions and millions of bucks, anyway! And what sort of moron misspelt their own name, or the name of their clients?
She glanced at the clock. Maybe he'd be out now? Lori pulled out her Blackberry and texted Aizen with a curt "Cirrucci here + whining. When will she see you? <3 "
He'd probably find a detour, and stop to do something mundane, pointless and time consuming, like purchase a villa in a small war-torn country, to avoid Cirucci. Or something like that.
"I dunno, I mean, a bunch of the press seemed to think you were getting to be a spoiled priss."
"Damned if I know," Cirucci gave an elegant little shrug, eyes moving back to her nails, inspecting the polish again as if it might have chipped or been damaged in the interim. "He follows him around like a lost puppy. Worships the ground he shits on."
"But, it's not like I was the only one who was getting that way, either, you know," she continued on, her voice smooth and bored, "I was just the one most people were more interested in taking down."
“Really? Well, if you say so. I guess it makes sense - of course everyone went for you, you’re the girl of the group, huh? Women are vicious things, honestly.”
Another smile.
Good thing Lori could do an obscene amount of words per minute on those teeny tiny cell phone keyboards, and with her thumbs, to boot. Aizen’s text back was fired back within moments, and Lori could pound another one out even faster. A sliiiiightly wicked smile moved over her face as she read it. Ooh. This would be fun to break.
“Look, Ms. Cirucci,” she said, layering on the sugar-coated tones and the smiles, one by one. “I’m told he ran into an acquaintance on his way over, and they’ll be going out for lunch and a drink. If you’d like to wait another, oh, say, four hours, that’s alright, but it's your call.”
Sort of. There WAS the fact that she had to close up his office when she had to go out to run errands, and there was no way she could leave Cirucci sitting in Aizen’s office, all alone. Not only did that violate Aizen’s company rules, but it would also give her plenty of time to snoop.
“But, see, thing is... I have to go out for errands so you really can’t just sit around here, “ she continued. "You'd have to go anyway."
Cirucci could tell when she was being blown off, but she really didn't feel like protesting the fact at this point. Bitterness tasted so much better when it was shared with someone else and the talk about those who had wronged her had all but helped her forget her reason for coming down.
"Fine," she smiled, tightly, "I'll make an appointment proper tomorrow. I'd assume Aizen will be free by then?"
“We’ll see what we can do!”
She opened up Aizen’s calendar to the bookmarked page, and scanned down the time, piece by piece. After a quick scan through the afternoon proved useless, she backtracked to the morning hours.
“Eight A.M. sharp?” she said. “Otherwise we can do...”
More scanning.
“The day after, at eleven A.M.?”
"Eight A.M. sounds lovely," Cirucci shifted her purse. There were very few ways Aizen could slink out of meeting her that early in the morning, after all, and with a few cups of coffee, she'd be quite sharp enough to nip this whole problem at the bud.
"Thank you for your time," she smiled with that plasticy sweetness that made her a media darling when she wanted to be.
Surely no one could be awake enough to rage about legal contract matters at eight in the morning.
“Fab,” Lori said, and she noted it down. Cirucci... eight in the morning... meeting over contract... After a second’s thought, she scrawled down a warning of do not cancel, she is upset. :( Not that he didn’t know what he was getting into, but better safe than sorry.
“No problem,” she smiled. “Have fun with... whatever you’re doing next, huh?”