.:the doors we open and close each day decide the lives we live:.
WHO: Sarah Connor Reese & Pete Cheney
WHERE: PD HQ
WHEN: Sometime before the metal rampage.
WARNINGS: Possible language abuse, considering it's Sarah Connor but she's on her best behavior.
SUMMARY: Sarah Baum, Connor Reese hits up Cheney for a job interview. Sarah Connor getting a job with police? Someone call Ahnold.
FORMAT: Paragraph because that's the way I like it.
It was muggy early off and Sarah tugged irritably on red and black pinstripe shirt-collar and straightened the black cropped jacket that just hit her her hipbone. With her hair slicked back into a high ponytail and her crisp black slacks neatly pressed, she really didn't look like Sarah Reese, owner of a gun shop. Her shoes were black as well, sleek, and professional, with just enough heel to enhance the pants. A pair of small blood red, small coral earrings adorned her ears--it was the only piece of jewelry she wore. The last watch she tried had died the second it touched her skin.
Thank fucking God she'd gotten out of the house without John catching a glimpse of her.
She was getting an interview out of Pete Cheney and determined to sail through it. The gun shop? Was fine. She'd hired a few rotating managers, and a few clerks, and was doing well so far. It was a damn good investment, especially in a place like this. But the more she thought of it, the more she wanted something else. Sands' had a point. Having talents just to waste them was stifling, boring, and lead to your life being shit. She might have to take a class on police procedure or some shit, but she could handle it.
Her chin snapped up smartly when she entered the building and swung around to the front desk. A quiet discussion lead to Sarah being seated, waiting for Cheney. She tried not to fidget, and desperately wanted a cigarette. This was some new shit she was turning over, but it was worth it. Helping people was worth it.
WHERE: PD HQ
WHEN: Sometime before the metal rampage.
WARNINGS: Possible language abuse, considering it's Sarah Connor but she's on her best behavior.
SUMMARY: Sarah Baum, Connor Reese hits up Cheney for a job interview. Sarah Connor getting a job with police? Someone call Ahnold.
FORMAT: Paragraph because that's the way I like it.
It was muggy early off and Sarah tugged irritably on red and black pinstripe shirt-collar and straightened the black cropped jacket that just hit her her hipbone. With her hair slicked back into a high ponytail and her crisp black slacks neatly pressed, she really didn't look like Sarah Reese, owner of a gun shop. Her shoes were black as well, sleek, and professional, with just enough heel to enhance the pants. A pair of small blood red, small coral earrings adorned her ears--it was the only piece of jewelry she wore. The last watch she tried had died the second it touched her skin.
Thank fucking God she'd gotten out of the house without John catching a glimpse of her.
She was getting an interview out of Pete Cheney and determined to sail through it. The gun shop? Was fine. She'd hired a few rotating managers, and a few clerks, and was doing well so far. It was a damn good investment, especially in a place like this. But the more she thought of it, the more she wanted something else. Sands' had a point. Having talents just to waste them was stifling, boring, and lead to your life being shit. She might have to take a class on police procedure or some shit, but she could handle it.
Her chin snapped up smartly when she entered the building and swung around to the front desk. A quiet discussion lead to Sarah being seated, waiting for Cheney. She tried not to fidget, and desperately wanted a cigarette. This was some new shit she was turning over, but it was worth it. Helping people was worth it.