Fic: Friendship, or Lack There Of (Chapter 2)
Title: Friendship, or Lack There Of - Chapter 2
Rating: T
Word Count: 1,377
Pairing (if any): Giselle/OC (friendship); Robert/Giselle
Disclaimer: Enchanted and its characters are not mine. The story and the new characters are creations of my little mind.
A/N: Thank you for all the lovely reviews on the first part of this story! Reviews really encourage me to continue on, so if you like what you read, please let me know!
Be sure to read Chapter 1 before reading this.
Giselle pulled the door open and strolled into the hallway; strolling right in the way of another figure in the hallway. There was a mess of papers fluttering through the air, floating down like feathers. An “Oh my!” and an “Oh fuck!” were uttered from respective mouths. Giselle’s portfolio fell to the ground, a few of her sketches amongst the ruins. A majority of the paper belonged to the other person, now crouching on the ground, quickly trying to gather up the sheets before a rather husky looking dog did.
“I am so sorry,” Giselle said, dropping to the ground to help.
“Oh,” the girl muttered, trying her best to keep her papers neat, “its fine. I should have expected something like this.” Her deep brown hair cascaded over her eyes, shielding them from the gaze of Giselle.
Once the last paper had been collected, Giselle stood back up along side her, handing over a pile of scribbled handwriting. “Thank you,” the woman bobbed her head, gladly taking them back. She pulled lightly on a leash attached to the bulldog at her side. “Are you alright then?” The girl ran her hands over her deep crimson top and pulled a thin shoulder strap back in place.
Giselle smiled, lifting her portfolio, “Oh yes. It seems you took most of the damage.” Her brow knit together, “I really am so sorry.” She paused, gaze shifting to the bulldog at the girl’s side. “Oh,” Giselle pointed to the canine.
“Hm?” the girl replied, dropping her stare to the dog. The bulldog stood proudly with a sheet of scribbles hanging from her mouth. “Aw shit, Lola,” still clutching the leash, she crouched once again, pulling and yanking to remove the paper from the dog’s jaws. The paper ripped, now sodden from the dog’s drool. “This is good,” the girl rambled, sarcasm dripping from her voice as she stood, “Excellent. Just what I needed to start of my day,” she turned and started towards the elevator, pulling gently at the leash to escort Lola along.
Giselle hurried to fall in step beside her, “Bad day?” She pulled her portfolio against her stomach, clutching it with both hands.
“Oh no,” the girl shook her head, wavy hair falling over her shoulders, “my day is fabulous. This is just what I needed.”
Giselle looked to the ground, thinking, and then looked back to the woman, “Really? I mean, you just seemed to be flustered.”
The woman sighed, pressing the elevator’s down button perhaps a little too hard, “I was being sarcastic.”
“Oh yes,” Giselle bobbed her head. She didn’t know exactly what that meant, but she let it be and decided an attempt at a conversation switch. A smile graced her features, “You write then? What is it you do?”
The elevator chimed and the girl stepped into the car, Lola wheezing slightly at her side. “I try to,” she replied, peering back at the wide-eyed redhead, once again beside her in the elevator. She pressed the button for the lobby and the doors slid shut. “I work for a newspaper.” The said writer came to figure this woman wouldn’t be leaving her alone as easily as expected. She pursed her lips and her eyebrows rose, “You draw?” She tipped her chin towards Giselle’s portfolio.
“They’re just sketches,” Giselle dipped her head, “I make dresses.” She smiled and suddenly shook her head, “Well, not by myself. I have help. I have co-workers at my studio. And the animals, well, they’re just great helpers. Their paws are so small; they can stitch some of the best seams you’ll ever see.”
The writer stared blankly over at her. She blinked and then continued. “Well, yes,” the girl nodded and lifted the leash in her hand, “Lola here helps me write some of my most moving passages.” With a slight roll of her eyes, the ding of the elevator and opening of the doors allowed the writer an exit from the increasingly peculiar situation.
Giselle cocked her head to the side, “But animals don’t talk.” She skipped to the writer’s side, walking in the same direction down Riverside, “How can you figure out what she wants to say?”
“Oh,” the writer continued, a smirk now playing over her lips, “it’s a system of barks, really. Like Morse code.” Lola hobbled along side of her, tongue lolling from her mouth.
“Really?” Giselle replied; her eyes wide and head bobbing, contemplating.
“Oh yes,” the writer stepped down off the sidewalk, hand raised to hail a cab. “It’s really quite remarkable,” she watched as her yellow escape car slowed beside her, “She has the most interesting and thought-provoking things to say.”
Giselle placed her hands on her hips, eye brows furrowed. Her lips twisted up, a smirk lurking there. “You’re joking?” Putting the puzzle together, her eyes lit up, “You’re being sarcastic!”
“Ah yes, sarcasm,” the writer opened the door to the taxi, bending to lift Lola with a grunt into the backseat, “I guess you’re too quick for me, girl.”
“Giselle,” she replied, “is my name.” She stepped a few inches closer, toes hanging over the edge of the curb.
The writer continued to urge Lola to move into the next seat, “Fuck, Lola. Help me out, would you?” The dog finally complied, plopping herself down on the cracked leather of the next seat. The writer turned around, “Penelope.” She stretched out a hand and Giselle gladly hopped off the curb to take it in both of hers.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” Giselle grinned, basking in the happiness of finding conversation outside of her normalcy.
“I think it’s nice to meet you too,” Penelope said, retrieving her hand from Giselle. She sat herself down in the cab and closed the door. Her sunglasses once perched atop her head fell to shade her eyes. She spoke through the open window, “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone quite like you before.” Penelope turned her attention to the cab driver, rambling off an address, followed by, “New York Times”.
“Goodbye, Penelope!” Giselle waved, grin still across her face.
Penelope nodded her head and gave her hand one wave as the taxi rolled off.
Giselle watched as the car drove away as she continued to smile to herself. All it took was a mess in the hallway to start a conversation with someone. Granted, it wasn’t a long conversation, but Giselle smiled and hummed for her entire walk to work.
She strolled into the studio and her assistant, Julie, tilted her head, “Well, you look happier than normal this morning,” she paused, “if it’s even possible that you’re happier than normal.”
Giselle dropped her portfolio and purse onto a desk covered in colored fabrics, “I ran into a girl in our apartment building this morning.”
Julie leaned against the desk, rapping her nails against it, “You talked to a girl in your apartment building this morning?” Such an ordinary event as talking briefly with a person who lives in the same building didn’t seem like a scenario to inspire such a pleasure.
“Well yes, we talked a little. But I did run into her,” Giselle nodded, “more so walked into her, I suppose.” She peered over at Julie, “We had a wonderful little talk.”
Julie handed over a small piece of paper, “Here are some messages for you. They called early this morning.”
She took the paper and sat down at the desk as Julie walked back to her own desk. Giselle placed the notes aside and her mind wandered back to this Penelope and her dog. She didn’t know where they lived; perhaps they didn’t even live in the building, but were visiting someone else. It was too early for a visit though, Giselle reasoned to herself. She picked up a pen to jot down some notes, but began tapping it absentmindedly against her chin. Maybe Robert knows who she is; she made a note in her portfolio to bring it up later that evening.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a rat scampering onto her desk, measuring tape in paw. He held it out to her, chattering his teeth.
Giselle smiled down at him, running a finger along his head between his ears, “Yes. It’s time for work.”
To Chapter 3.
Rating: T
Word Count: 1,377
Pairing (if any): Giselle/OC (friendship); Robert/Giselle
Disclaimer: Enchanted and its characters are not mine. The story and the new characters are creations of my little mind.
A/N: Thank you for all the lovely reviews on the first part of this story! Reviews really encourage me to continue on, so if you like what you read, please let me know!
Be sure to read Chapter 1 before reading this.
Giselle pulled the door open and strolled into the hallway; strolling right in the way of another figure in the hallway. There was a mess of papers fluttering through the air, floating down like feathers. An “Oh my!” and an “Oh fuck!” were uttered from respective mouths. Giselle’s portfolio fell to the ground, a few of her sketches amongst the ruins. A majority of the paper belonged to the other person, now crouching on the ground, quickly trying to gather up the sheets before a rather husky looking dog did.
“I am so sorry,” Giselle said, dropping to the ground to help.
“Oh,” the girl muttered, trying her best to keep her papers neat, “its fine. I should have expected something like this.” Her deep brown hair cascaded over her eyes, shielding them from the gaze of Giselle.
Once the last paper had been collected, Giselle stood back up along side her, handing over a pile of scribbled handwriting. “Thank you,” the woman bobbed her head, gladly taking them back. She pulled lightly on a leash attached to the bulldog at her side. “Are you alright then?” The girl ran her hands over her deep crimson top and pulled a thin shoulder strap back in place.
Giselle smiled, lifting her portfolio, “Oh yes. It seems you took most of the damage.” Her brow knit together, “I really am so sorry.” She paused, gaze shifting to the bulldog at the girl’s side. “Oh,” Giselle pointed to the canine.
“Hm?” the girl replied, dropping her stare to the dog. The bulldog stood proudly with a sheet of scribbles hanging from her mouth. “Aw shit, Lola,” still clutching the leash, she crouched once again, pulling and yanking to remove the paper from the dog’s jaws. The paper ripped, now sodden from the dog’s drool. “This is good,” the girl rambled, sarcasm dripping from her voice as she stood, “Excellent. Just what I needed to start of my day,” she turned and started towards the elevator, pulling gently at the leash to escort Lola along.
Giselle hurried to fall in step beside her, “Bad day?” She pulled her portfolio against her stomach, clutching it with both hands.
“Oh no,” the girl shook her head, wavy hair falling over her shoulders, “my day is fabulous. This is just what I needed.”
Giselle looked to the ground, thinking, and then looked back to the woman, “Really? I mean, you just seemed to be flustered.”
The woman sighed, pressing the elevator’s down button perhaps a little too hard, “I was being sarcastic.”
“Oh yes,” Giselle bobbed her head. She didn’t know exactly what that meant, but she let it be and decided an attempt at a conversation switch. A smile graced her features, “You write then? What is it you do?”
The elevator chimed and the girl stepped into the car, Lola wheezing slightly at her side. “I try to,” she replied, peering back at the wide-eyed redhead, once again beside her in the elevator. She pressed the button for the lobby and the doors slid shut. “I work for a newspaper.” The said writer came to figure this woman wouldn’t be leaving her alone as easily as expected. She pursed her lips and her eyebrows rose, “You draw?” She tipped her chin towards Giselle’s portfolio.
“They’re just sketches,” Giselle dipped her head, “I make dresses.” She smiled and suddenly shook her head, “Well, not by myself. I have help. I have co-workers at my studio. And the animals, well, they’re just great helpers. Their paws are so small; they can stitch some of the best seams you’ll ever see.”
The writer stared blankly over at her. She blinked and then continued. “Well, yes,” the girl nodded and lifted the leash in her hand, “Lola here helps me write some of my most moving passages.” With a slight roll of her eyes, the ding of the elevator and opening of the doors allowed the writer an exit from the increasingly peculiar situation.
Giselle cocked her head to the side, “But animals don’t talk.” She skipped to the writer’s side, walking in the same direction down Riverside, “How can you figure out what she wants to say?”
“Oh,” the writer continued, a smirk now playing over her lips, “it’s a system of barks, really. Like Morse code.” Lola hobbled along side of her, tongue lolling from her mouth.
“Really?” Giselle replied; her eyes wide and head bobbing, contemplating.
“Oh yes,” the writer stepped down off the sidewalk, hand raised to hail a cab. “It’s really quite remarkable,” she watched as her yellow escape car slowed beside her, “She has the most interesting and thought-provoking things to say.”
Giselle placed her hands on her hips, eye brows furrowed. Her lips twisted up, a smirk lurking there. “You’re joking?” Putting the puzzle together, her eyes lit up, “You’re being sarcastic!”
“Ah yes, sarcasm,” the writer opened the door to the taxi, bending to lift Lola with a grunt into the backseat, “I guess you’re too quick for me, girl.”
“Giselle,” she replied, “is my name.” She stepped a few inches closer, toes hanging over the edge of the curb.
The writer continued to urge Lola to move into the next seat, “Fuck, Lola. Help me out, would you?” The dog finally complied, plopping herself down on the cracked leather of the next seat. The writer turned around, “Penelope.” She stretched out a hand and Giselle gladly hopped off the curb to take it in both of hers.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” Giselle grinned, basking in the happiness of finding conversation outside of her normalcy.
“I think it’s nice to meet you too,” Penelope said, retrieving her hand from Giselle. She sat herself down in the cab and closed the door. Her sunglasses once perched atop her head fell to shade her eyes. She spoke through the open window, “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone quite like you before.” Penelope turned her attention to the cab driver, rambling off an address, followed by, “New York Times”.
“Goodbye, Penelope!” Giselle waved, grin still across her face.
Penelope nodded her head and gave her hand one wave as the taxi rolled off.
Giselle watched as the car drove away as she continued to smile to herself. All it took was a mess in the hallway to start a conversation with someone. Granted, it wasn’t a long conversation, but Giselle smiled and hummed for her entire walk to work.
She strolled into the studio and her assistant, Julie, tilted her head, “Well, you look happier than normal this morning,” she paused, “if it’s even possible that you’re happier than normal.”
Giselle dropped her portfolio and purse onto a desk covered in colored fabrics, “I ran into a girl in our apartment building this morning.”
Julie leaned against the desk, rapping her nails against it, “You talked to a girl in your apartment building this morning?” Such an ordinary event as talking briefly with a person who lives in the same building didn’t seem like a scenario to inspire such a pleasure.
“Well yes, we talked a little. But I did run into her,” Giselle nodded, “more so walked into her, I suppose.” She peered over at Julie, “We had a wonderful little talk.”
Julie handed over a small piece of paper, “Here are some messages for you. They called early this morning.”
She took the paper and sat down at the desk as Julie walked back to her own desk. Giselle placed the notes aside and her mind wandered back to this Penelope and her dog. She didn’t know where they lived; perhaps they didn’t even live in the building, but were visiting someone else. It was too early for a visit though, Giselle reasoned to herself. She picked up a pen to jot down some notes, but began tapping it absentmindedly against her chin. Maybe Robert knows who she is; she made a note in her portfolio to bring it up later that evening.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a rat scampering onto her desk, measuring tape in paw. He held it out to her, chattering his teeth.
Giselle smiled down at him, running a finger along his head between his ears, “Yes. It’s time for work.”
To Chapter 3.