Hung over, hair sticking up in all sorts of unacceptable direction, pillow marks still relatively visible on his face, Reid managed to drag himself out of bed and into respectable(ish) clothes, stopping by the bathroom just long enough to brush his teeth and splash some water on his face, attempting to rub away the red from his eyes (nevermind the
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"You know I always look fantastic," she assured him, wrapping her favorite mint scarf around her neck. The coffee had helped but there was still a dull throb in her head that only pancakes could fix. "And you look just adorable, as usual."
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In truth, Skylar had always loved this particular love story. Girl loves boy her whole life, gets heartbroken, years later they try again. She connected to it.
"That Lavender coming back to town has done wonders for my column. Poor girl can't can't a break."
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Finally, somehow, her head stopped pounding. This food was like a miracle cure.
"One of my 'anonymous tippers'…" Skylar used the term lightly. She had known for years Pansy Parkinson wrote to her, "has been giving me bits and pieces of a political scandal brewing."
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"Do tell." Anonymous or not, he liked to think that he made the list of exceptions as far as the implied confidentiality agreement related to Skylar's sources for her column was concerned. Hell, he had been the source for legitimate gossip more than once. He was owed a bit of insider info.
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Most rumors and gossip were all well and good, but these were some seriously power people. The last thing she needed was to be overheard.
"They've already drained their budget so the money needs to be brought in from somewhere else as well."
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"When you say 'somewhere else', I don't suppose you're hinting at some kind of legitimate, high-brow sort of fundraiser, are you?" he asked in a similarly toned down voice.
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Over the years the tips had begun to poor in, most of them about no-named spoiled brats and all too common types of gossip. Slowly the quality as well as the quantity rose. But nothing like this.
"Reid, I'm not talking about personal funds either."
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"Are you seriously being tipped on blatant illegal shit, now?" he asked, half curiously intrigued, half genuinely thrown off and somewhat terrified. "Bloody hell, you're a gossip column, not a whistle blower."
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Skylar sipped at her mimosa more slowly now, taking in his words. He was right - she was supposed to report on love triangles and embarrassing moments. But something of this size was tempting. It was juicy.
"It's not like anyone has any idea that it's me. There are nearly a hundred people at Witch Weekly, maybe more considering interns and the mail staff."
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"You're going to get yourself in trouble, you are," he shook his head, the berating intentions of his words not quite cutting through the smile that pulled at his lips or the hint of pride in his voice.
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"I won't post anything too serious. I'll just hint around it, okay?" she reasoned. The best she could do was try to ease Reid's mind.
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"So I'm assuming you've heard about that holiday party Goldstein's place with be hosting?"
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The holiday party was the perfect opportunity to get everyone together in one room again. The reunion had done wonders for her column and her editor wanted to recreate the situation, only more concentrated.
"Can you imagine what some of these people will do when they're all together again for a night with an open bar?"
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Skylar wrote the column, sure, but he was the one hanging on her every word - his obsession with gossip wasn't exactly based in a desire to spread it around or to poke at people's reputations, but more so in an urge to just know things. To be aware of situations before anyone else, to forsee developments and anticipate happenings, to always be on top of any situation and be shielded from any kind of surprise. It manifested itself in talks of love triangles and no-way-did-she-really-wear-thats, but it stemmed from a bit of a more personal place. Reid just didn't like surprises, or being left in the dark.
"It's bound to be a completely classy mess, I can't wait."
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Skylar was nothing with out her eyes and ears. After all, the girl couldn't be everywhere all at once. She relied on Reid, Jemma, and the anonymous letters. There would be far too much going on for her to keep up.
"The invitation allows for a plus one, and if there is any new blood we have to access."
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