Day at the Office (open)

[Leila Gold]

The new law firm office was small, but Leila was still insanely proud of it. She'd helped pick out the building and had done the lettering on the door as well as decorating the sign. "Blue and Gold Law," said the fancy lettering.

She nodded firmly to herself and pulled the paintbrush out of her mouth. Inside the firm was still a total mess--boxes everywhere, and the desks hadn't even been assembled.

"Wish I had some strong, handsome man to help me set all this up," she said to the empty air. She looked around suspiciously to see if her words had produced any of these endangered creatures, then her shoulders sagged in mock disappointment.

"Well then, I shall be the little red hen, and do it all myself." She popped in a piece of gum--apple flavored this time--and got to work with the box cutter.

An hour later she'd stripped off her jacket and overshirt and was working in a lacy undertop. One desk was set up with a computer and printer working--finally. Her breeze whipped around her, keeping her cool, as she set up the computer and brought up a word document.

She typed up a quick message in big, bold letters. She tapped the printer a few times as it slowly ran across the page. "Come on," she muttered. When it was done she whipped out the message and grabbed a piece of tape.

The door blew open and she smiled as she taped the message to the glass.

"Wet Paint," she said with a big smile. The lettering still glowed on the pane, and she nodded again at her work, then went back to work.

Another hour--this time with music playing on the newly downloaded iTunes--and the office had some motivational posters put up and another desk put together. She'd even managed to pull out a couple of chairs and set them in what was going to be the lobby in case anyone else came in.

"Break time!" she said with a cheery smile, then went to the back room for a cup of coffee. In the main room, the bell over the door rang.

[Cobalt Weaver]

Cobalt had forgotten to go jogging this morning. He had had no coffee this morning and was barely able to keep his eyes open. Not really looking where he was going, he pushed the door open with his sleeve and stepped into the room. Then scowled.

There were motivational posters on the walls.

What.

Granted, everything was all set up, including desks, chairs and the computers and printers. Which... Cobalt was probably supposed to do last night, now that he thought about it. But still. motivational posters. He made a mental note to take them down as soon as he had the presence of mind to do so. He made a beeline for the coffeepot, grunting in vague greeting to his intern. He really needed coffee...

[Leila Gold]

Leila had just finished dumping six spoons of sugar into her half-milk half-coffee mug when she turned around and saw Cobalt come through the back room.

"Coffee?" she offered with an inner sigh. But it looked like this guy needed it more than she did.

As he reached out to take the mug, she looked down at the sleeve of his blazer. She stared for a moment, then said:

"What. Is. On. Your. Sleeve."

He looked down and shrugged, making some noncommittal response.

"Might that perchance be paint?"

He looked blank.

"From the door?"

Still no response.

"That I just finished painting and put a sign that said 'Wet Paint' next to it?"

"Oh."

Leila took a deep breath and walked out into the main lobby. She pulled out a towel and a bucket of water, then got to work washing the smudged letters off the door, so that it only read "Bl..........old Law Firm." It left some smudging--the paint would never really come off completely, so the glass would always have that little bit of a smudge to it. Hopefully no one with OCD came by.

Leila debated going back in for some coffee of her own before beginning to paint again, but wasn't exactly sure what to say to Cobalt. She glanced back into the office at the motivational posters and the box litter all over the room. She still wished she had someone to help her put everything together, or even somebody else to just come by.

"Cranky..." she muttered under her breath. Her breeze whipped around her head and under her undershirt, lifting it off her back for half a moment before she tugged it back down. A shadow fell across her work.

[Cobalt Weaver]

Still bleary-eyed and irritated with his morning, Cobalt did perk up at the smell of coffee. Reaching blindly, he grasped the cup of coffee and raised it to his lips. Ahh. Sweet caffeine.

He blinked. His sleeve? He looked down to see some yellow smudge on his arm, standing out against the blue. Huh. He shrugged and grunted, not really sure what was going on. Too much information, not enough caffeine. Solution: more coffee.

Leila was still talking. About paint? He couldn’t really find it in him to focus. So he sucked down more of his coffee, awareness coming back in little jolts. She’d apparently put up a sign and in ignoring it, had ruined her paint job. Finally, he gathered up enough wherewithal to respond.

“Oh.” He supplied elegantly.

Leila looked put out as she pushed her way through the door. He drained the rest of his coffee, and watched her begin to scrub the paint off of the door. The door read “The Bl…..old Law Firm.” He tilted his head to the side.

“Blold?” He tried saying it to himself. Then rolled his eyes irritably. Oh, perfect. He’d smudged up the door. Now he understood Leila’s exasperation. Now the door would be stained and messy. He felt a little guilty as he watched her clean off the door, muttering to herself. A few more cups of coffee and he’d be right with her…

[Leila Gold]

Leila glanced up at the clouds moving in that had cast a shadow over her work. She sighed and shook her head, taking the hint to move indoors before she got sunburned or it started raining.

She glanced around the main room of the office, hands on her hips, and sighed gently. She went over to her desk and pulled out a bottle of Excedrin. She downed two pills and went back to work, opening boxes and crates and restacking items. Every stack of papers was quickly weighed down with a rock in order to keep it from all blowing around.

She left the door open. It was still a nice day outside, and she wanted the opportunity to enjoy it, at least a little. Finally she'd gotten one work space up and usable. One desk, complete with computer, printer, office supplies, rolling chair behind and two high-backed wooden chairs in front. Very professional. To one side of the desk she placed a low bookcase, creating an L-shape that provided a neat cubby for someone to work in. The bookcase was already full with all of her favorite legal texts and a few select comics.

"I'm going to need to get a plant, or a fish, or something," Leila said to herself. Her head was pounding less, but she took an Advil just to be sure it stayed that way.

Now that her desk was set up and there wasn't as much hard work to be done, Leila pulled out her overshirt again and buttoned it up. She pulled out a hair-tie and pulled back all but a few strands of the blond mop. Whistling once again, she began to head toward the back room for another cup of coffee.

[Cobalt Weaver]

Cobalt grimaced at Leila’s words. “No plants,” he grumbled, downing another cup of coffee, “Plants need sun. All the time. I’ll get the biggest headaches in the world.” He brushed past her out of the back room to sit at his desk. He dropped his backpack by his chair. He shrugged off his paint-stained jacket and grimaced again.

“Sorry about the paint, by the way. I didn’t get a whole lot of sleep last night. And I needed some coffee.” He gestured at his cup, steaming on the corner of his desk.

He glared at her as the tossed another Advil down her throat. He knew she didn’t have much of a choice, but he couldn’t help adding, “I wish you wouldn’t take so many of those things. I’m sure there are substitutes that are less…” He waved his hand around, searching for a word, “Sinister.” He was prepared for her outburst, and he understood it. It probably wasn’t fair to criticize her, seeing as it was a side effect of her powers just as poor eyesight was a product of his, but still. He didn’t want her to give up, and every time she swallowed down those pills, it felt a little bit like giving up.

“Anyway,” he continued, voice significant, “Thanks again for setting up for me. Good work, intern.” The jab was an old one, almost an inside joke, and meant as a peace offering, tentatively offered.

[Leila Gold]

Leila stuck her tongue out at Cobalt’s back about the plant comment and vowed to get a climbing vine as soon as possible. With any luck it would climb all over the office and dig into Cobalt’s desk.

She also frowned at his comment about sleep. She vowed to slip some sleep medication into the last cup of coffee for the day. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice. The good news was that he was a coffee-holic, and he didn’t pay too much attention to what went into the fix.

When he started going after her own medication, though, it’d gotten to be a bit too much.

“Look, sir, I don’t know if you understand the concept of a headache that won’t go away no matter what you do, but even if you did, I’m fairly certain you’d just take it upon yourself as some sort of punishment that you think you deserve for some unwitting crime you committed at one point in your life, or even just thought you committed. See, I’m not like that, and I’m not going to just take this pain as some sort of punishment that I just have to live with, so I’m going to keep doing this until there’s something better out there. If you ever find something to get rid of the pain for me—since just putting on a pair of glasses doesn’t work for those of us who don’t work in total darkness—then I’ll be happy to accept the substitute.”

Leila didn’t understand his anger at the medication. She figured he just didn’t understand the way it felt to go home every night and not be able to listen to the television because the noise left a pounding in her head. It hurt just to talk to people on a regular basis—another benefit to working with someone who didn’t talk unless necessary.

Cobalt made a short comment, and Leila sighed. She understood it was an act of peace, and she decided to accept. “You’re welcome, partner,” she said. “Though you know that me setting up means that I automatically put myself in the best place in the office.” She pointed at the air conditioner fan right above her head and grinned.

At this moment she noticed that someone had come in through the open door and was standing there. She felt a gentle blush and wondered how much he had heard.

[Joshua Bernstein]

Pilot Ridge being a small town there wasn't a huge need for law firms. In fact, he'd worried when he'd first decided to move there that he wouldn't be able to find employment at all unless he specifically sought work at the Institute, and the idea of working for an employer he morally opposed galled him. The one and only benefit to working at Hammel would have been Sean as a coworker, and that was simply not enough incentive for him. He'd been quite pleased to discover that firms without ties to the school actually existed, though few enough that the presence of a new law firm had been the chief topic of conversation among his coworkers for nearly the entire week.

He'd paid only minimal attention to the gossip, as he was currently preoccupied with Sean's warnings about lurking threats as well as their chronic inability to have dinner without awkwardness arising (after nearly a quarter century he felt they really ought to have been able to, but he was just as bad as his friend). But then he'd met one of the new attorneys -- a pretty, vivacious girl who had very politely listened to at least half his impromptu speech on meta-human rights before interrupting to say that he ought to meet her partner, as he apparently had similar views. The very thought of someone taking him and his opinions seriously had been enough for Josh to hop on his bike during his lunch break, heading straight for their office.

He parked outside, staring up at the newly painted sign. Blold? He'd been sure she'd said Blue and Gold... But perhaps this was some sort of new-fangled thing, mashing together the partner's names into one? He shrugged and pushed the door open, the second person in one day to ignore the very prominent sign declaring Wet Paint, and then stopped. He had obviously walked in during the middle of an argument, which was rather uncomfortable for him. He was wondering if perhaps he ought to say something so they knew he was there or go back out and pretend he hadn't heard anything when Leila turned and caught his eye. Too late to pretend he hadn't heard now.

"Ah, umm. Sorry for dropping in unannounced." He apologized, "But you did say I should stop by..." He offered a hand to the man Leila had been arguing with, "My name is Joshua Bernstein. I already had the pleasure of meeting your partner, Ms. Gold." He nodded toward the young woman. "She suggested I come by. I hope I'm not intruding, I can come back later if you're busy."

[Cobalt Weaver]

Cobalt started, turning to give the intruder his best glare. He didn’t hear the other man come in, and didn’t much appreciate being startled, especially in the middle of an argument he’d rather not be having with his intern. It was a little unprofessional. His eyebrow shot up once the other man introduced himself. Joshua Bernstein. He’d heard of him. It was hard not to hear of another civil rights lawyer in this middle-of-nowhere town. But aside from his occupation, Cobalt didn’t know very much about the man—he and Leila had just set up here, after all. There hadn’t been much time to get much information on the man. He knew that Bernstein was non-meta, approximately 50 years old, and, judging by the faint smell of tobacco, smokes.

At Bernstein’s explanation, he shot Leila an annoyed look. He’d really have to talk to her about arranging social visits during work time. He glanced at the clock, only to discover that it was technically lunchtime. Oh.

He extended his hand and shook Bernstein’s, “Cobalt Weaver. You’ve already met my intern,” He shot Leila a serious look that she clearly didn’t take very seriously, “And no. We aren’t too busy yet.” Cobalt turned Bernstein’s hand in his grip to reveal smudged yellow paint on his sleeve. He smirked, “I guess I’m not the only one who ignored the Wet Paint sign.” He turned to Leila, “I don’t know why you don’t just use the stickers. Everyone else uses the stickers. It’s cheaper anyways.” He let go of Bernstein’s hand and returned to his desk, reaching for his coffee cup.

“So what can we do for you today?” Cobalt figured that ‘what do you want’ wouldn’t be a very professional way to address a fellow civil rights attorney. Yet. He still didn’t know why he was here or if he was someone they could trust. Still, Leila had to have invited him here for a reason. And it better not have been because she thought Cobalt needed friends…

[Leila Gold]

When Leila noticed that it was Josh who had come in to the office, she just smiled and went back to reorganizing her desktop. She smiled at the two older people and tried to do her best to stay out of the discussion. Why get dragged into another meta-human rights argument right now, especially when it would be less of a debate and more of an affirmation of common ideals.

She couldn't keep her head down, though, when she heard the comment about the paint. She glanced up at the door and saw that the whole sign had been smudged. "NO!" she cried and went running out. She ran her finger across a smear. Some litter blew up in the street around her and a trash can rattled in the wind. Cobalt made a snarky reply about stickers, and Leila stuck out her tongue.

"Stickers don't show a personal touch, sir. Besides, my lettering is prettier than anything you can just buy."

She pulled out a towel and started scrubbing again, but it was a lost cause. Enough of the paint had dried for the whole thing to just be splotchy.

"Why is no one literate anymore? No one ever stops to look at signs, no one ever takes the time...." She stepped back and looked at the door. "We could knock out the glass and replace it with a wooden panel. I could cut the panel to fit and then take it home and paint it, leaving it there to dry." She glared at the two men inside, though she wasn't sure if they saw her or not.

Most of her was just hoping that they had managed to say something polite to one another instead of being rude the whole time. If not there might have to be some kind of intervention.

Leila stood up and stretched, then walked slowly through the office, casually heading toward the back room in order to grab a cup of coffee. She discreetly attempted to listen in on the conversation.

[Joshua Bernstein]

Josh opened his mouth, about to respond to the greeting when Cobalt brought to his attention that he had paint on his sleeve. "...Hmm. How about that." He commented, twisting about to look at the door he had inadvertently ruined along with his jacket. He cringed a bit when Leila began pointedly grumbling about his carelessness; she was absolutely correct, he should have paid attention. He had been so intent on finding out more about the new attorneys in town that he'd not even thought to check for signs.

"Sorry..." he shrugged uncomfortably before turning his attention back toward the other man. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Weaver." It would particularly be a pleasure if Leila's assessment about her partner (boss)'s interests was true, and he had no reason to doubt her, even if she was showing a surprising lack of maturity by sticking her tongue out at Cobalt. This didn't seem to be appropriate work place behavior...

"Ms. Gold has informed me that you are interested in meta-human rights. I'm not entirely pleased with the term meta-human, myself, but there seems to be a dearth of appropriate terms that don't hinge upon making one group an off shoot of the other. It's very frustrating, almost as frustrating as the lack of interest most people show. If one more person tells me that they aren't treated that badly, there's no prejudice..." He shook his head in disgust. He tried to make people understand, but few of them seemed to truly get it. "Even subtle discrimination is still discrimination. I'm sure you agree?" Perhaps it was unsurprising that another civil rights attorney would be interested in meta-human rights, but he'd had such little fortune finding anyone to agree with him that the mere possibility of someone to share his woes with was tantalizing. He would truly be crushed if the other attorney showed any apathy toward his chosen cause.

After a minute he realized that this was not perhaps the best answer to what can we do for you today so he added, "I was just stopping by to say hello during my lunch break. I like to know my fellow lawyers."

[Cobalt Weaver]

Cobalt rolled his eyes at Leila’s little display. She was only acting this way because he was right. He caught Bernstein’s confused expression as she made the face and sighed a little. He really needed to have another talk with her about behavior in front of other people.

His eyebrows shot up as he listened to Bernstein’s speech. Leila had made a good call inviting him to the firm. Even if he was a little… excitable, it was interesting to find a non-powered individual with such a vested interest in meta-human issues. He leaned forward in his chair, his eyes narrowed, “The blindness towards meta-human rights is disgusting and the general disinterest and lack of sensitivity with regards to the training and care of the children involved is appalling. There ought to be more of a focus on integration of the powered and non-powered from an early age. Education, instead of segregation, should be the way we do things. If we separate our children from the rest of the population, then of course people will fear them. They’re the mysterious Other, and without anymore information, people will make uneducated presumptions based on prejudices and fearmongering instead of actual facts. And on the other side of things, the meta-children are separated from not only their families, but from a significant part of the population. They’re going to start fearing the non-powered community as well, and that’s because all they’re exposed to are stories of prejudice that others have suffered. It’s too isolated and it’s really exacerbating the problem.”

He stopped, suddenly aware of how much he’d revealed. Pulling shadows around him, he took a sip of his now-cold coffee, “But I think worrying about terminology is a little irrelevant right now. Save that argument for a better time. Besides, you could always be called worse things than ‘meta-human’. ‘Mutant’ or ‘abomination’ both being particularly enjoyable.” He smiled darkly, shuffling the papers on his desk, staring somewhere past Bernstein. He pulled back into focus, still keeping his face dark, “It was good of you to stop by. I’m always glad to meet like-minded people.”

[Joshua Bernstein]

Josh was shocked enough at Cobalt's rant to listen in silence until the other attorney had finished. Shocked, but entirely delighted. Most of the metas he had encountered regarded Hammel as the slim thread connecting them to their sanity during adolescence, and while he respected their need for a community and a safe place he entirely agreed with Cobalt that this forced segregation only hurt relationships between the meta and non-meta populations.

"Exactly!!" He crowed, resisting the urge to dance with joy -- or to hug the younger man. Not only was his fellow attorney interested in meta-human rights, but he understood how harmful the Institute's monopoly truly was. Even Sean, bright as he was, disagreed with Josh's obviously morally correct position, blinded by school spirit and company loyalty. Granted, Hammel was an improvement over Sean's family, who for some reason that confounded Josh completely, operated by cutting off members they disagreed with. Coming from a very close family himself he found this behavior as perplexing as he found the fact that someone as gentle and accepting as Sean had emerged from such a system.

"Educators ought to be trained to deal with meta issues, the same way they are trained to deal with religious identity and gender identity and ethnicity or anything else that supposedly sets a child apart from his or her peers. If Hammel Institute were one option out of many then there wouldn't be a problem, but there isn't any choice, not for the parents or for the children. Apparently isolation for all of their formative years is the only available path."

He frowned at the comment about the term meta-human versus the term mutant. "Just because mutant is impolite doesn't make meta-human any better..." He muttered, annoyed that every single person he talked to seemed to have the idea that the word meta-human was tolerable simply because there were more offensive words that could be applied.

"As am I!" He agreed, the obvious delight written across his face in direct opposition to the scowl on Cobalt's. "Particularly in regards to meta-human education. Truly I have met very few individuals who agree with me on that particular issue. I'm quite glad I ran into Ms. Gold and thrilled she invited me here."

He glanced toward the door once more as thunder rumbled in the distance. He'd ignored the gathering clouds on his way here, hoping they would clear out before he had to return to the firm he worked for, but that didn't look as if it was going to be the case.

Ah, well, perhaps it would blow over quickly. He still had time to sit and chat and Cobalt Weaver was turning out to be a very interesting man. Definitely someone he wanted to get to know, that was certain. "What brings you and Ms. Gold to Pilot Ridge?"

[Leila Gold]

Leila was pleased to see the discussion was going so well and vowed to stay out of the way. She made sure the doors and windows were all shut in anticipation for the coming rainstorm while a new pot of coffee brewed. She then poured herself a cup and went over to her desk. It was lunchtime, so she pulled out the peanut butter and jelly sandwich she'd made that morning.

Athena shuffled over from whatever corner she'd found to curl up in and flopped on her back at Leila's feet. Leila absentmindedly patted the corgi's belly while she set up some new features on her computer. Namely, she found the webcam feature and carefully aimed it at the two men across the office. No one would believe her if she just told them about it--actual evidence was required.

She sat back in the chair, put her feet on the desk, and pulled out one of her favorite books--Machiavelli's The Prince. Then, sipping her coffee and eating her sandwich, she settled in to pretend to read and watch the debate as storm clouds rolled in overhead.

[Cobalt Weaver]

Cobalt had to admit to being a little taken aback by Bernstein’s enthusiasm. Usually his opinions and forceful conversation (Leila called them rants, but Cobalt thought that was a little inelegant) put people off immediately. Which was preferable; Cobalt was of the opinion that the less people who associated with him, the better. He didn’t really have time for anything past vague acquaintances anyways. But Bernstein didn’t seem to be deterred by his attitude. In fact, he seemed to share Cobalt’s opinion on Hammel. Cobalt caught himself, reigning in potential interest by reminding himself that this man was not a meta-human, and would of course have a different opinion on Hammel. Still. The non-metas he came across also seemed more comfortable with segregation. Bernstein seemed to be the one of the few who agreed with him. And he was an attorney. Cobalt just hoped Bernstein wasn’t going to hug him. He didn’t think he could handle that.

“Exactly.” Cobalt nodded, making sure not to sound as enthused as the other man. There had to be some kind of dignity in this office, or he was certain Leila would never let him hear the end of it. “The idea of a school for meta-humans is fine. It’s the implementation. There’s no need to separate children from their friends and family. It just makes them feel more alone in their newfound powers without their support group.”

Cobalt almost smiled at Josh’s indignation. He couldn’t imagine how the older man had made it through so many years of practicing law and still being this idealistic. “Point,” He conceded, “But I think it’s best to take things one step at a time. Once the school systems stop segregating the students, the names will cease. Eventually, people will realize that meta-humans aren’t all that different.” Cobalt stopped, re-evaluated his words, and scowled. Clearly, hopeless idealism was catching.

“Oh,” he shrugged, deciding to keep it a little vague, “It’s a good place to set up and do our job.” He raised an eyebrow, “You?”