A Small Island in Hawaii, Thursday Afternoon
It was really bound to happen sooner or later. Instead of being under-dressed for an occasion, as was almost certainly the case nine times out of ten, Warren was very thoroughly over- dressed. He and Karla had been enjoying their vacation (yes, even after the unexpected company that was Jonothon had been settled into one of the extra rooms in the
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In short, Karla looked ready for bear, if bear was assumed to be 'giving a Powerpoint presentation about economics and financed to Warren's estranged father, CEO of a Fortune 500 company.' Looked ready for bear. Whether she was ready? Well, she was trying damned hard to convince the butterflies in her stomach that she was.
The butterflies weren't entirely buying it.
"How much longer before the portal arrives?" she called down to Warren, who, of course, was already dressed and ready to go.
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Warren had intended to finish that sentence. He really had. Except he was looking at Karla, and his thought processes were all slowly grinding to a halt.
"Guh."
Three more minguh. Yes. That sounded about right, didn't it?
Warren was, for the first time in his life, discovering just what women's business suits did to him when worn by Karla.
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For once, Karla wasn't paying his suit or his tie any mind. She was far too busy fretting about the impression she was going to make on his father and assuring herself she was ready for this.
She barely gave him time to answer before she continued on. "Should I wear my glasses? People with glasses look more mature and intelligent, right?"
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The waiting area is decorated in tans and deep browns, dark green plants scattered in corner for contrast. There are no fun motivational posters or a water cooler or anything else to suggest people actually worked there. With the occasional discreet oil painting, it almost looked like the entrance hall to some kind of...private museum.
"This is right place?" she asked Warren in an undertone.
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It was just as much for reassurance as it was an excuse to just touch her.
"Yeah... this is the place. We just check in with the receptionist, let her know we're here for Dad's five o'clock, and then have a seat and... try to entertain ourselves until he's ready for us. Maybe rehearse your presentation again or something."
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She took a single step forward and then had to go and complicate it up.
"Should I do that?" she asked. "Or send you? Am I too important to talk to a secretary?" She didn't think she was too important, but maybe the people who ran the meetings didn't talk to underlings?
Protocol never covered this stuff!
"Should we go together? Or would that look like I can't even talk to her by myself?"
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As soon as the door closed behind his father, she spun around to face Warren. "So, how'd I do?" she asked, standing in front of the table. "Can I pass for a businesswoman?"
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Unlike both Warren's, Karla had changed clothes. If asked, she would say that changing clothing for dinner was traditional in Glacia, which was true enough...
...It just ignored the reality of the very tiny shreds that most of her clothing had been reduced to. Very tiny shreds that she was hoping the cleaning staff wouldn't notice.
Of course, with the new claw marks across the table, they'd likely have plenty of other things to draw their attention, ahem.
"Good," she murmured back, pretending that those other stares didn't exist, even as she wanted to turn and hiss at some of the gawkers. Didn't they have better things to look at than Warren's wings, gorgeous as they were? "He should be proud to show off his handsome young son."
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