(no subject)
Who: Madelaine Quick (Little Miss Muffet) Delilah Rousseau (Little Red Riding Hood)
Where: The waiting-room of Anser's office.
When: After this request.
What: The complex extraction of mental status from a teenager.
Rating: PG-13 for lots of swearing and snark.
Maddie: Little Red Riding Hood was freaking German. This meant that not only was Anser passing off emotional responsibility for his ward, but he was handing her over to the wrong assistant librarian. Although, how many of Delilah's problems were simply being 'parented' by Anser and thus who spoke to her was entirely moot a point, Maddie wasn't certain. Getting up close and personal and living with the mother of all grumps had to be a pain in the arse of epic proportions.
As she made her way up through the Pentamerone to Anser's office and where the teenager could normally be located, she was still considering the best way to go about this. Talking to people? Not a problem; she'd happily talk to whomever. But being a responsible sort? Reasonable conversation? ...Practice, she decided, firmly, as she opened the door with a breezy confidence that belied the slight turning over of her stomach, and settled herself on a corner of the couch.
"Got a minute?"
Delilah: Technically Little Red Riding Hood was a Southerner, but practiced extraction of her accent and nary a mention of New Orleans may have cut that umbilical cord a long time ago. German, sure. She'll take it. She happens to be reading a book from the other Axis power when Maddie opens the door, Murakami's "Kafka By the Shore" in her hands. Work is slow, it seems, or at least work is in the eye of the storm - and by the looks of the coffee table there was something of a storm earlier, the pot empty and the bagel box ransacked. Even the undesirable cream cheeses are empty. Delilah, regardless, sits perfectly calm, albeit bagelless, chair tilted back and her dog, now in the massive late stages of puppyhood, napping next to the desk.
She glances up when Maddie breezes in. She doesn't shut her book. "Anser's out," she answers. "For real this time, not he-doesn't-want-to-talk-to-anyone out."
Maddie: Just like Anser; perpetually hiding from his own Tales in his office with a front-line of a teenage girl and a dog the size of a Shetland pony. "He would be," Maddie mutters, making herself a touch more comfortable. Whether it's just that the sofa belongs to the waiting-room-of-Anser or it's just plain uncomfortable, there is something about the cushions that just don't squash into proper softness. Obstinate, like the man himself. Bloody man would choose a couch that was deliberately un-couch-like.
"Interesting choice of reading material," she notes dryly, catching sight of the cover, as the book is still being read. "Trying to tell him something subtly, or just a fan of Murakami?" She's read the book; she deliberately follows the different sort of material that has something to say beyond shoes, handbags and cute guys. She folds her hands against her knee, leans forward. Seriously, that dog has to be growing as though on steroids.
"Not here to see Anser."
Delilah: Oh adults. Why must they be so odd? Delilah gives Maddie an appropriate look to reflect these silent lamentations, a sort of frown that reads 'buh?'. She rests her open book on her stomach, still leaning back precariously in the chair. "Um, I'm reading a book because it's interesting. I'm pretty sure that's why most people do nonrequired reading."
Wolf is still out cold, paws in the air, taking it easy after an early morning run through the park. His doggy danger sense isn't tingling, after all, no reason to do something so extreme as "get up". "Then you're kind of in the wrong place, because this is kind of his office."
Maddie: "And you kind of work here," Maddie points out mildly, but there's a touch of 'duh' in there, too. "So. Kind of not." She takes a good long minute to turn over how to bring it up, and settles for 'blunt'. No reason to sugar-coat this crap; frighteningly perceptive teenager cum assistant-to-Head-Librarian aside, it's not exactly been a while since Maddie left her own teenage years behind and she can still remember serious frustration with adults who persisted in talking down to you. Particularly as at the time, she'd been doing the accounting for her mother's sex shop and had come into contact with more genres of porn than the average adult had experienced in their lifetimes.
"You know Anser, not one for the feelings. It's supposed to be my people that are that repressed," she says with a sigh, and the small frown creasing her forehead is one not only caused by Anser's lack of emotional output, but more the realisation that she's probably going to have a great deal more of this kind of thing palmed off on her. "I've been drafted in because he apparently can't handle more than feeding and housing you. Or so he says."
Delilah: Someone, coming to see her? Delilah's look is skeptical to say the least, as she suspects, and rightly so, that Maddie is not after her history notes. She gives her dog a gentle nudge in the hindquarters, and Wolf sort of murmurs, rolling over a bit and opening his eyes.
What comes next gets a doubly skeptical look, all contained in a deepening frown. When Maddie is finished, however, her reply is succinct. "Go to hell. Who are you, anyway? Oh wait, I don't care. Go to hell." She points at the door. Hell is, apparently, in that general direction.
Maddie: This? Is not going well. Also, her dislike of Anser's 'assignment' is increasing exponentially. Being told to go to hell does that to a person. She rubs her forehead, trying to wipe away the oncoming headache. If she's this bad at this, how does this bode at all well for professional therapy? Oh wait. She's not being paid to screw this up.
"Thanks, but no thanks," she said dryly, "Although thanks for pointing out the route, wasn't quite sure how one found it. I'm Maddie, actually. Little Miss Muffet, not really keen on spiders, etcetera etcetera. Look, you know Anser. You also know that his bark is kind of really loud, really annoying. Like a dog that yaps. No offense," she said, addressing the dog at this point, who actually seemed to be awake and less of a giant fluffy doorstop. "Kind of thinking you produce actual barking. Anyway," she said, turning her attention back to Delilah. "Point being, I'm not uber keen on being subject to his snark. So just answer the questions, I can go and tell Anser that you're normal and yes, he probably is screwing you up, but not more so than any parental figure, and you and he can pretend he never ordered this conversation."
Delilah: "He sent you here? Bull. Shit. Maybe Anser asked you to check in on me but acting like the two of us are some crazy Springer-worthy odd couple and being a total bitch about it probably isn't what he had in mind. So you know what, if you want to tell him anything, you can tell him you've got a million more problems interacting with human beings than I do, so he can chill and you can leave us alone."
In sitting up, her book has become slightly dislodged from its perch, and she puts it on the safer surface of her desk with a little more force than necessary. "I mean where the hell do you get off? Nobody gets to talk shit about me and Anser except me and Anser. You've never even seen us talk unless you've got some freaky spy cameras installed and even if you had you still wouldn't. know. shit." She's sitting up now, arms folded across the edge of her desk, voice hard-edged with contempt. "So spare me the pop psychology, lady, and while you're at it you can take your condescension and shove it, too. He's done more for me than you'll ever get and if you're going to keep on his case I'm going to have to cut a bitch." Elbow crooked and wrist bent, she punctuates the statement by pointing at Maddie. "Got it? Good. Now get out. Next time I see you it better be because your fax machine broke."
Maddie: Wow, that's a whole hell of energy expounded. Maddie blinked, a little disconcerted it had to be said, particularly as to just how quickly one seventeen year old girl can detonate when you apparently press the right buttons. Defensive, much? Still, when you consider some of the Tales that could have been approached, at least this one's less likely to try beheading as a way of handling unwelcome interference.
"Anser's done more for you than anyone? I suppose that's why running away was such a gratitude-laden response. Pop-psychology aside - oh, thank you for the aspersions cast on my degree," she added, dryly, "It's a pretty easy prediction to make; upset, unhappy teen with a shitty excuse for a father figure makes a break for freedom in search of a better, more grown up life. Please. You're practically a textbook case. Not really big on office equipment, but please do, yell at me some more. I've heard only good things about scream-therapy in dealing with teenage feelings of impotence."
Delilah: Delilah has never been much for taking shit from other people - particularly when she's told them she's quite finished hearing it. So when Maddie decides to continue, and in a markedly more unpleasant tone than before, Delilah stands. It's not an angry, chair-shoving-back-and-toppling-abruptly sort of stand. It's much calmer. Sort of a weird, practiced zen. She whistles once, sharply, and the baby horse of a dog that had been lying calmly through all this is on his feet.
"I asked nice, but nobody every listens. So now I'm going to have to point out the trained attack dog." She points at the trained attack dog. "Now, I think you were leaving."
Maddie: Maddie:Trained attack dogs withstanding, the girl does a pretty good job in forcing Maddie to leave. Really, for a baby Anser in training, she's not half-bad. That whole 'sarcastic mockery' thing doesn't go down well, clearly. With a grin that says more for her sense of humour than anything else - really, Anser? A mission to go get yelled at by a token seventeen year old? How fun - she heads for the doorway, grin turning to a grim sort of smile that slips away as the headache begins to set in. Great.
"Anser. You are one very cooked goose," she mutters darkly, as she closes the door behind her.
Where: The waiting-room of Anser's office.
When: After this request.
What: The complex extraction of mental status from a teenager.
Rating: PG-13 for lots of swearing and snark.
Maddie: Little Red Riding Hood was freaking German. This meant that not only was Anser passing off emotional responsibility for his ward, but he was handing her over to the wrong assistant librarian. Although, how many of Delilah's problems were simply being 'parented' by Anser and thus who spoke to her was entirely moot a point, Maddie wasn't certain. Getting up close and personal and living with the mother of all grumps had to be a pain in the arse of epic proportions.
As she made her way up through the Pentamerone to Anser's office and where the teenager could normally be located, she was still considering the best way to go about this. Talking to people? Not a problem; she'd happily talk to whomever. But being a responsible sort? Reasonable conversation? ...Practice, she decided, firmly, as she opened the door with a breezy confidence that belied the slight turning over of her stomach, and settled herself on a corner of the couch.
"Got a minute?"
Delilah: Technically Little Red Riding Hood was a Southerner, but practiced extraction of her accent and nary a mention of New Orleans may have cut that umbilical cord a long time ago. German, sure. She'll take it. She happens to be reading a book from the other Axis power when Maddie opens the door, Murakami's "Kafka By the Shore" in her hands. Work is slow, it seems, or at least work is in the eye of the storm - and by the looks of the coffee table there was something of a storm earlier, the pot empty and the bagel box ransacked. Even the undesirable cream cheeses are empty. Delilah, regardless, sits perfectly calm, albeit bagelless, chair tilted back and her dog, now in the massive late stages of puppyhood, napping next to the desk.
She glances up when Maddie breezes in. She doesn't shut her book. "Anser's out," she answers. "For real this time, not he-doesn't-want-to-talk-to-anyone out."
Maddie: Just like Anser; perpetually hiding from his own Tales in his office with a front-line of a teenage girl and a dog the size of a Shetland pony. "He would be," Maddie mutters, making herself a touch more comfortable. Whether it's just that the sofa belongs to the waiting-room-of-Anser or it's just plain uncomfortable, there is something about the cushions that just don't squash into proper softness. Obstinate, like the man himself. Bloody man would choose a couch that was deliberately un-couch-like.
"Interesting choice of reading material," she notes dryly, catching sight of the cover, as the book is still being read. "Trying to tell him something subtly, or just a fan of Murakami?" She's read the book; she deliberately follows the different sort of material that has something to say beyond shoes, handbags and cute guys. She folds her hands against her knee, leans forward. Seriously, that dog has to be growing as though on steroids.
"Not here to see Anser."
Delilah: Oh adults. Why must they be so odd? Delilah gives Maddie an appropriate look to reflect these silent lamentations, a sort of frown that reads 'buh?'. She rests her open book on her stomach, still leaning back precariously in the chair. "Um, I'm reading a book because it's interesting. I'm pretty sure that's why most people do nonrequired reading."
Wolf is still out cold, paws in the air, taking it easy after an early morning run through the park. His doggy danger sense isn't tingling, after all, no reason to do something so extreme as "get up". "Then you're kind of in the wrong place, because this is kind of his office."
Maddie: "And you kind of work here," Maddie points out mildly, but there's a touch of 'duh' in there, too. "So. Kind of not." She takes a good long minute to turn over how to bring it up, and settles for 'blunt'. No reason to sugar-coat this crap; frighteningly perceptive teenager cum assistant-to-Head-Librarian aside, it's not exactly been a while since Maddie left her own teenage years behind and she can still remember serious frustration with adults who persisted in talking down to you. Particularly as at the time, she'd been doing the accounting for her mother's sex shop and had come into contact with more genres of porn than the average adult had experienced in their lifetimes.
"You know Anser, not one for the feelings. It's supposed to be my people that are that repressed," she says with a sigh, and the small frown creasing her forehead is one not only caused by Anser's lack of emotional output, but more the realisation that she's probably going to have a great deal more of this kind of thing palmed off on her. "I've been drafted in because he apparently can't handle more than feeding and housing you. Or so he says."
Delilah: Someone, coming to see her? Delilah's look is skeptical to say the least, as she suspects, and rightly so, that Maddie is not after her history notes. She gives her dog a gentle nudge in the hindquarters, and Wolf sort of murmurs, rolling over a bit and opening his eyes.
What comes next gets a doubly skeptical look, all contained in a deepening frown. When Maddie is finished, however, her reply is succinct. "Go to hell. Who are you, anyway? Oh wait, I don't care. Go to hell." She points at the door. Hell is, apparently, in that general direction.
Maddie: This? Is not going well. Also, her dislike of Anser's 'assignment' is increasing exponentially. Being told to go to hell does that to a person. She rubs her forehead, trying to wipe away the oncoming headache. If she's this bad at this, how does this bode at all well for professional therapy? Oh wait. She's not being paid to screw this up.
"Thanks, but no thanks," she said dryly, "Although thanks for pointing out the route, wasn't quite sure how one found it. I'm Maddie, actually. Little Miss Muffet, not really keen on spiders, etcetera etcetera. Look, you know Anser. You also know that his bark is kind of really loud, really annoying. Like a dog that yaps. No offense," she said, addressing the dog at this point, who actually seemed to be awake and less of a giant fluffy doorstop. "Kind of thinking you produce actual barking. Anyway," she said, turning her attention back to Delilah. "Point being, I'm not uber keen on being subject to his snark. So just answer the questions, I can go and tell Anser that you're normal and yes, he probably is screwing you up, but not more so than any parental figure, and you and he can pretend he never ordered this conversation."
Delilah: "He sent you here? Bull. Shit. Maybe Anser asked you to check in on me but acting like the two of us are some crazy Springer-worthy odd couple and being a total bitch about it probably isn't what he had in mind. So you know what, if you want to tell him anything, you can tell him you've got a million more problems interacting with human beings than I do, so he can chill and you can leave us alone."
In sitting up, her book has become slightly dislodged from its perch, and she puts it on the safer surface of her desk with a little more force than necessary. "I mean where the hell do you get off? Nobody gets to talk shit about me and Anser except me and Anser. You've never even seen us talk unless you've got some freaky spy cameras installed and even if you had you still wouldn't. know. shit." She's sitting up now, arms folded across the edge of her desk, voice hard-edged with contempt. "So spare me the pop psychology, lady, and while you're at it you can take your condescension and shove it, too. He's done more for me than you'll ever get and if you're going to keep on his case I'm going to have to cut a bitch." Elbow crooked and wrist bent, she punctuates the statement by pointing at Maddie. "Got it? Good. Now get out. Next time I see you it better be because your fax machine broke."
Maddie: Wow, that's a whole hell of energy expounded. Maddie blinked, a little disconcerted it had to be said, particularly as to just how quickly one seventeen year old girl can detonate when you apparently press the right buttons. Defensive, much? Still, when you consider some of the Tales that could have been approached, at least this one's less likely to try beheading as a way of handling unwelcome interference.
"Anser's done more for you than anyone? I suppose that's why running away was such a gratitude-laden response. Pop-psychology aside - oh, thank you for the aspersions cast on my degree," she added, dryly, "It's a pretty easy prediction to make; upset, unhappy teen with a shitty excuse for a father figure makes a break for freedom in search of a better, more grown up life. Please. You're practically a textbook case. Not really big on office equipment, but please do, yell at me some more. I've heard only good things about scream-therapy in dealing with teenage feelings of impotence."
Delilah: Delilah has never been much for taking shit from other people - particularly when she's told them she's quite finished hearing it. So when Maddie decides to continue, and in a markedly more unpleasant tone than before, Delilah stands. It's not an angry, chair-shoving-back-and-toppling-abruptly sort of stand. It's much calmer. Sort of a weird, practiced zen. She whistles once, sharply, and the baby horse of a dog that had been lying calmly through all this is on his feet.
"I asked nice, but nobody every listens. So now I'm going to have to point out the trained attack dog." She points at the trained attack dog. "Now, I think you were leaving."
Maddie: Maddie:Trained attack dogs withstanding, the girl does a pretty good job in forcing Maddie to leave. Really, for a baby Anser in training, she's not half-bad. That whole 'sarcastic mockery' thing doesn't go down well, clearly. With a grin that says more for her sense of humour than anything else - really, Anser? A mission to go get yelled at by a token seventeen year old? How fun - she heads for the doorway, grin turning to a grim sort of smile that slips away as the headache begins to set in. Great.
"Anser. You are one very cooked goose," she mutters darkly, as she closes the door behind her.