Minnie laughed at the question. "definitely the weed. Well, that, antidepressants, and a really good therapist." Minnie didn't want to make assumptions about the person in front of her, but just from her few comments, it didn't seem like she had a lot else in her life that kept her calm. "Sounds like you work with some incompetent people. which makes sense as far as i know about politicians." minerva got to her feet and motioned for bee to follow her inside, asking someone to take the front while she led her to the back room and up the stairs. it was a nicer view from the roof and she grabbed her bag on the way.
"respectfully," minerva started as she led them outside to the group of couches and chairs that sat on the roof, "it sounds like you need to chill the fuck out just so you can chill the fuck out. fuck your co-workers." she shrugged and took her usual seat, motioning for bee to sit in front of her as she took her things out of her bag. her rolling tray and grinder, papers and a bag of weed she hadn't yet stocked in the store yet. "i had wicked anxiety when i was in high school. i know i sound like a stoner when i say it but being able to roll up, take my time and tend to every piece of the process, it made me stay calm. everyone needs some kind of ritual. something you do with your hands or your body, something that's for you, nobody else." she stopped, instead starting to grind up the flower to show bee what she meant. "i mean you don't owe me shit but i'm still gonna ask, when was the last time you were like damn...i'm kind of totally okay right now?"
āš„š¢š¬ššš§, šš®š«ššš®šš«ššš² š¢š¬ š£š®š¬š š big popularity contest. everyone fakes it until they make it. that, and nepo hires.ā she couldnāt help but think of her least favorite chief of staff. āitās not usually this bad, but with the fires and everything, everyoneās panicking.ā she eyed the brunette for a moment. not a journalist, so it was probably fine. and besides, anyone with half a brain could tell city hall was scrambling. so were the police. and the gangs. and every important person in new york that pantheon could touch. ābut you didnāt hear that from me.ā she followed her up the back stairs. beeās color-coded calendar had not accounted for this impromptu rooftop hangout with a stranger.
āugh, thank you.ā yes. heavy on the fuck them. bee firmly believed that if everyone just did things the way she wanted them done, she wouldnāt have to crash out in the first place. which was normal. probably. āhuh.ā she actually listened. if some stoner guy had tried telling her this, she wouldāve cut him off halfway through and somehow reduced him to tears, but from this woman, it landed differently. ādo you still get anxious now?ā she asked, genuinely curious despite herself. āi mean, owning a business canāt be easy.ā her brows lifted at the other womanās phrasing, a small incredulous laugh slipping out. ātotally okay?ā she echoed. ānever. fuck, god no, never.ā she shook her head like the idea itself was ridiculous, comical. āi was, like, two doing toddlers and tiaras shit. you know, like with the clip-on teeth. my fucking dad used my piggy bank money for scratch-offs. iām from a trailer park. in florida, so. god, no. been deeply fucked for life.ā she waved a hand, dismissing the possibility entirely. her life had been a shitshow, yes, but sheād clawed her way out of it all the way to an nyc loft apartment and a husband she regularly forgot to respect. ārarely okay. but iām too self-aware for therapy, so what are you gonna do, you know?ā


















