MCA Lobby; Monday [ 07/13 ].
In an attempt to seem productive, Rachel was hunkering down behind the desk in the lobby with a large cup of coffee (made from beans at the store where she didn't have to practically sell an arm and a leg for them, praise the Lord and capitalism!) and a stack full of mail, which she began to sort through.
"Bill, bill, bill. Advertisement. Bill. Ad, ad, ew."
That one was an international letter with an E. Axelroot return address, so it was promptly bitched straight over Rachel's shoulder. Rachel took a moment to ignore the fact that the envelop had just complained as it flew, when she really just meant to pitch it, and then the thought struck her that there might actually be a check in the envelop. Unlikely, but she quickly went to retrieve it anyways, opening it up.
It was definitely not a check. "Eeben, you dirty son of a..."
But she wasn't going to say it. She was too much of a lady. She was just going to crumple it up with great satisfaction and pitch it over her shoulder again. Good riddance.
"Bill, bill, bill. Advertisement. Bill. Ad, ad, ew."
That one was an international letter with an E. Axelroot return address, so it was promptly bitched straight over Rachel's shoulder. Rachel took a moment to ignore the fact that the envelop had just complained as it flew, when she really just meant to pitch it, and then the thought struck her that there might actually be a check in the envelop. Unlikely, but she quickly went to retrieve it anyways, opening it up.
It was definitely not a check. "Eeben, you dirty son of a..."
But she wasn't going to say it. She was too much of a lady. She was just going to crumple it up with great satisfaction and pitch it over her shoulder again. Good riddance.