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So it is business in the end. To Orion, he has more of an upper-hand in that territory than any other. Creativity is one thing, and it can be remarked as being priceless, but priceless is just a nice way of saying penniless most of the time. He knows this intellectually and practically in both senses with equal experience, and he has no problem using this to his advantage. Besides, isn’t that what he does best? Use things to his advantage, even if those things are made of flesh and blood?

One more question pauses him for a moment, makes him absorb her more in his sights while he listens carefully. She doesn’t intend ten years, and he’s not looking for it either. The world plays on again while he offers her an assuring smile. It sounds like he’s gotten what he’s come for. “For now, it’s one season,” he agrees. “If you like what you see after we’re done, we can talk about a longer relationship.”

His hand now holds his pen. Montblanc brand, 18k gold accents, another gift that is part of everything Orion currently owns or is on loan. In the moment, he settles on ownership with only an extension held out for Eloise to borrow for the sake of a written agreement in the paperwork he’s already passed to her under script.

“All I need right now is your signature,” he explains, “and I’ll be able to deposit the points into your account by the time it’s dry.”

she looks at the paper in front of her, searching for where it says in writing miniseries, that she isn’t signing a death sentence at the face value of a smile. she can smile too, it’s not worth much. it says: one season, eight episodes. run times are unspecified, but she’ll gamble on that one until a real contract appears. in subtext it says: awards consideration, breakthrough role. it says: tell people will support you regardless, as long as you’re working, as long as the role has a ponytail bobbing. 

“how’d you know i was looking for something just like this?” she flips through, scanning dialog that’s bolded, adjusting around the name amma as though it might just suit her. “it’s a little dark, but i really think that could work.” not that she’s dark, that there’s anything to draw on, but that the dialog hums, the possibilities are there. she’s read her fair share of clunkers at this point, scripts that couldn’t make it off the ground if they had a jet plane. “really something special you’ve got here!” 

she knows there’s nothing wrong with an extra compliment, not when a monteblanc has been offered up for her. but, she also knows the fallacies of an eager mind. certainly young girls can be charmed, but there’s something to say for the ones who have already seen what she has. “wow! you sure move quick.” she supplies a laugh so they both know it’s meant to be a joke and not something more. “can’t a girl finish her lunch first?” 

“i need to tell my agent i thought about it.” although, he’s not in the wrong. he’s offered her the best deal she’s seen this season by a mile. and all of the boxes are checked on what she needs in her next picture. she’s not going to turn down the offer that’s just been presented to her, but she can’t be the most hungry girl at the party. there’s a word for those. “i will pick up that pen just as soon as my salad is cleared.” 

“I only had you to think of the moment it caught my eye,” he tells her, as warm as the blade is cold. It’s their world; everyone else is just renting space. Plenty of evictions from the tone of her voice, and he can practically light up the place with the look in his eyes, the smile he lets her in on. “That a girl. What I tell ya? You’re not meant for just any ol’ Clyde. They’ve got a lot to live up to.” Or they just simply won’t live at all. A dash of a wink is thrown over before he straightens back up, hands slipping back to his pockets as the space becomes theirs, a shift of energy, walls now colored in electric blue, lighting from sputnik fixtures.

His smile hasn’t deigned to leave him. He’s tickled. Head swaying to the side before it shakes back to her. What a trip! But who could blame her? “Oh boy. What I wouldn’t give to have grandpa Bates around to get a load of this. Calling the family a bunch of squares. He’d flip his lid.” Teddy’s look isn’t made to fool her. He telegraphs exactly what he means to her, knowing just the ones in the hot seat. “I guess that leaves it to Mikey to turn things around from here on out, huh?”

“oh gee— now those are real criminals!” the kind who get caught, names pencilled in under the ones who are guilt of their crimes. as for the rest of them out there, who’s to say if anonymity is the lack of fame or the lack of stupidity. “the perfect crime never gets solved!” and the perfect girl commits one or two without it sullying her good name. how else do points accrue so rapidly? she’s sure one person has already guessed at the right answer. 

“i’d forgive him if he’d correct me!” a movie darling’s giggle spills from her, enough to coat speaking ill of the dead with charm for those around. who’d guess what she meant, who’d be rude enough to eavesdrop. the only sour point to the conversation turns on the mention of her brother, “figure you’d want to know about him!” the giggle turns to a pout almost instantly, one performance given way to another. “he’s real busy these days, what with his psychiatrist girlfriend and all— you’ve lost him for real this time.”

it’s never quite enough to swear anyone off micah, but at least she’s done her part. “we better find a way to make your mark while you’re here.”

He waits for her. He has learned patience is a virtue. It grants you special favors in return while you watch to see what the next move you’re required to make becomes apparent. She will either like the role or she won’t. One will be easier than the other. He’s put behind as much strategy as he can: presented her with the part of the script that highlights Camille the best, the longest airtime, the most impactful scene, along with the points that can soften the concerns that’d come with the alternative reaction. Eventually, he has his answer when it comes to interest. The rest is business, or it has always been business for them both. That’s not his place to care about unless it benefits.

“I think I might be somewhat insulted by the question,” he tells her, a balance of joking lightness and the proper amount of incredulousness that defends the Pulitzer brand. He’s long past wondering what he’d do without his connection to one of its heirs. It leaves him in a position of confidence, knowing better than anyone the power of his beneficiary. “Another director only has their personal account to draw from typically. On top of that, Prometheus has limits when it comes to individual deposits. I have the support of an entire network. Is that something you’d rather not have on your side over a film that could waste your time for months with no return?”

“well gee— when you put it like that!” she’s turned down every television role so far without hesitation. what was important to gather the big names, to get every individual auteur to understand just who they were dealing with so they knew that it was their loss if they didn’t help her get to the a-list. but now she has the backing of those names, she has the filmography to show she has put in all the hard work for her title. and this isn’t just the brady bunch, this is prestige. a miniseries, a movie stretched out with space for people to really luxuriate in the scene they were given. and she has to admit, the company backing does sound like a smart move at this stage. individual people were less and less reliable as they grew comfortable. they needed a shake up! 

“just one more question—” paging through what she’s been given, reading the character description, assessing it against what she’s done already. there was always a brand to be maintained, even if her agent didn’t always remember. “it’s just the one season right?” verbal assurance wasn’t everything, but it was worth its weight in blackmail. “i don’t really think i can promise you the next decade of my life, you know how it goes!” 

“Hack?” The word rolls around his ears, reverberates off of the ole eardrums for a moment longer until another noise meets them and overtakes them: his laughter. “Ha! You’re killing me, Lindy! Ha! Sylvie! A hack! Ha! Had the big idea your big brother would bamboozle you, huh? What a hoot!” He takes in a deep breath in, a way to calm his lungs down from spilling out more good humor, enough for him to lift up his glasses and prop them up before they fog up. “Phew! Sure is a good thing the doc didn’t hear that one. Bet you’d keep her in stitches for days!” And the attempt to stifle the chuckles breaks for just one, big grin corking it up as soon as it’s released.

“We’ll have a ball! Just the three of us catching supper together and chatting the night away! A guy can’t get much luckier than that!” Always so optimistically determined, a quick nudge to her shoulder, barely a brush, gone too fast for her to whack him off from embarrassment! “I’ll even pick ya up in the stingray! It’ll be like old times with Uncle Teddy! Can’t say no to an offer like that!”

“i knew it! you’re really dating sylvie dewitt?” she thinks of the clinical rows of offices that the hr therapists send the unsuspecting to. at least she didn’t didn’t have to worry about any cross-contamination. she saw vinter, not dewitt. she could count on that much at least. “what’d you do to her huh? convince her you were some billionaire?” there were only so many reasons that a relationship like that could really work out, and none of them had to do with a sparkling personality. 

she can think of nothing she’d like to shut down quicker than the idea of going back to old school family style dinners. they sound like the exact thing that she’s been spending all her time getting away from, the sort of nightmare that you’d have to go to a therapist for. there’s only one detail that saves the conversation from its dead end, “you’ve got the stingray?”

He laughs as he’s nearly knocked back off his feet, arms wrapped around her, snug as a bug. “How’s my favorite heartbreaker been?” Only room for affection when it comes to the kiddos, always has been, almost as if they’ve been his own. Lindy is a special one. His little helper. There’s a grin to show her when they let go, a hand on her curls that falls off naturally, small pat to her cheek in its passing. “You should’ve known I couldn’t stay away forever,” he teases. Who knows if he could have or not? It’s not the point when he’s standing on soil from the good U.S. of A. “Missed you so much I couldn’t come empty handed!”

There’s a bouquet of flowers taken back from the table, and a bag a few feet away from them, abandoned to stand on the floor on its own when he caught sight of her, but it’s picked up with ease by the twine handles. It balances on two fingers, making it as easy as pie for her to take, the flowers for later. “Customs thought is was a big tickle. What’s the big deal with a tube of lipstick?” He lowers down just a little to let her in on a joke between niece and uncle. “Didn’t think to give it a try from the bottom, did they?” Hidden blade, sharp enough to gut a fish, in case she finds a nice lake house of her own one day.  

“So, what’s the news? You don’t want to be a Bates anymore? Don’t tell me it was something I said.”

“you brought a present!” of course he did, always plied with gifts and winks, one thousand extra reasons to keep his name in her good book. she takes the bag, aglow with the light of more than attention, of understanding. who else would know her better. she slides the bag off his finger, opening it to reveal the tube of lipstick that would go perfect in any girl’s purse. she grins from ear to ear, pulling it out and feeling for the trigger where the label should be. if only she could really open it here in front of all the people trying to busy themselves. “i think that’s just the sweetest thing!” it makes its way into her dress pocket, the folds of tulled material concealing her newest acquisition. there’s really no reason to return it to the bag when it could come in so handy. “it’ll keep some guys on the real up and up now.”

she knows he was far, customs far seems almost to ridiculous to still be believed when there was only the new plus one she had for the right of her night. “i couldn’t do all this as a bates!” her nose wrinkles, the name conjuring up on the drabbest of childhoods, punctured with bright spots. bardot was the inverse. “it’s got a ring to it! eloise bardot, ya know!” she loves to hear it, the girl-image that she’s created through her own tenacity. “it wasn’t you, but the rest of them? what a load of suckers.”

@eloisebardot​

This isn’t everyone’s bag: the glitz, the glamor, the attention that comes along with it. But there’s something to that phrase, home is where the heart is. And though he’s been to Hollywood only once or twice, few times when he was an ankle-biter himself, the heart seems to be right here, backstage of the packed theater.

He hears a familiar voice, announcing nominees, presenting for the category of best director. He’s listening, but not for the sake of pulling for one over the other, but it keeps a smile on his face, hard to lose, and that’s even before the star herself makes her way out of the spotlight.

The snap of his fingers is the first sound from him. “Ain’t that a bite,” he greets her before arms open up. “I wanted to see you all dolled up with a trophy in hand tonight, not before it. Some timing, huh?”

everything about award shows were meant for eloise bardot. the designer gowns, the copious photos, the exorbitant gift baskets. all of it was meant for the country’s favorite icon. presenting was just the icing on the cake, standing in the spotlight and holding the award with authority, chosen to do it by popularity alone. of course she’d rather present best picture, but she’ll take second best in the show this once. by next year she doubts there will be anyone more qualified than herself for the job. but while her first thoughts are on telling one of the college interns to get her a drink, gee a coke would be just great. she’s disrupted by the sound of a voice too good to be true. 

“uncle teddy!” her voice is suddenly a little girl’s again, squealing in excitement at the figure that’s waiting for her backstage. there are few moments in the public eye that have ever caught a glimpse of her true emotions— this is one of them. she rushes into the hug that’s offered to her, squeezing tight as though to make sure he’s real and not some mirage brought on from staring directly into the spotlights. “i thought you were out of country!” the words are spoken into his suit jacket, kept close enough for another moment to let the genuine emotion find a home. serves her right for believing everything that she heard from her so called family. 

“who needs a trophy!” she finally pulls away, smoothing the curl of her hair. “i’m glad you’re here no matter what time it is!”

“That’s music to my ears.” Or something of that sort. There have been many noises that he’s listened to that have grown to be a taste he’s acquired. Most of the time it becomes a soft buzz in the background; sometimes it takes repetition for it to dull to the same level. “I’d hate for you to say I was wasting my time in trying to prove that we’re not all the same.”

Her smile is taken with grace, the right amount of response to show it has made the positive impact she undoubtedly was intending. It soon follows with how he leans down to the side of his seat, where the leather briefcase is already unzipped, portion of the script pulled out from it. “I’m happy to make your day,” he returns to her, extending out her part of Sharp Objects to accept in exchange. “If it becomes more than just lunch, you’ll be able to make mine, and then we’ll see how many other days we can turn that into.” Gradually, he leans back into his chair. “For a part like this we expect competition that can be out of our purview, but if you’re interested in making this your only bid for the season, we can make arrangements to help sort that out.”

“oh.” sweet, saccharine even, without going any further to correct him. they are all the same. that isn’t the point, and it’s not something she’s going to say in the presence of someone offering her points and a role. orion mitchell thinks he’s different. at least he knows he would be wasting his time trying to belabor the point. she’s all but mastered the smile of thoughtless listening, but it is somewhat nice to not to have to display it so early. 

she took the script from him, scanning the pages for each character name, counting who would speak where. who speaks the most. “am i camille?” she pushes past the flattery to the facts of the matter, though blinking up with him nothing but curiosity. she not sure if he’s aware how boring this season is shaping up to look, or if he really wants an icon on his show, but either way it seems to be shaping up for both of them. she’d hate to ruin such nicety.“i’d be alright with that.” perhaps it’s rushed, some might even say impulsive. but it’s not every day that someone with this kind of studio backing tries to rig the game, and she does love the word arrangement. “are you sure you can support someone of my status?”

He notes her thoughts with a smile. Truly, it is neither entertained nor insulted. He has no feelings that are strong enough to pick sides, especially in that matter. “Lucky them,” he plays back to her, ambiguous enough for her to see whatever she wants in the tone. There are no wrong answers when the answers are created by the receiver and not the releaser. “I hope that doesn’t mean you have a bias against directors in general.” Only one is fine, as long as it’s not him.

She’s hard to pinpoint, so he treads with a delicate hand. He doesn’t need a repeat of Sarah Kinney, but Eloise is more amenable. There’s something similar to her that can be found in the mirror and on a game board. “Am I?” His hands fold together over the tabletop, head tilting slightly. “That tells me you think the offer is too good to be true,” he calls the play for what it should be, for what he’s betting on, “but I didn’t bring a script with me to bluff my way through.”

“oh no!” she held a hand up to her heart as if the question gave her a heart stopping stutter, she held no ill will against julian santiago genuinely. he was just a director who got his way, she couldn’t fault forcefulness— it made up everyone’s personality around here. her only loss was that it wasn’t currently on her side. but she was still young, just the beginning of brilliant career really. and an emmy courtesy of the pulitzer brand was a just dandy middle stepping stone in between icon and oscar. “not his fault. and not yours.” 

she flashed the kind of disarming smile that proved there was simply no ill will to be had. directors held power, there was in shame in that, not even in being manipulated for it if everyone was still getting what they wanted. “you brought a script!” her voice pitches up an octave with the excitement, the offer was hers for the taking if that kind of token was on the table. people didn’t just let those out in public. “you know it’s not every day some high power exec wants lunch and a read through! i oughta pinch myself really.”

He doesn’t believe in burnt bridges. It might explain the certain dynamics he’s found himself in, but many times he’s the architect of those connecting structures; would any other contractor take a different route, to destroy their hardwork? “What she doesn’t hear won’t hurt her.” He returns her smile, staying in the middle lane of his own creation. “Unless you’re planning on telling her in person.” And she could. Possibly. There’s no guessing what the next working relationship will be. In the moment, he’s interested in what’s in front of him, gauging where her motivations lie. An emmy isn’t a bad start.

“We’re shooting a new series that we’d like to have you bid on.” He unfolds his words like the napkin that’s held by his fingers, something that expands out, not too quickly, not too slowly, something that could be considered casual, but mannered. “It’ll be called Sharp Objects,” he continues, “and we could get into the matter of the plot, the character we see you playing, and so on, but when I say ‘we’ it comes with the backing of the entirety of PBS.” He watches her, not with the eyes of a hawk, but of a director. “Bridget Pulitzer will be the producer, and that’s very helpful to have on your side.”

“she’d have to care about something other than that director for it to hurt!” but he’s a fair-weather fan she notes, hasn’t gone for the bait of insulting claudia marshall even when it’s right there to say. so she doesn’t say it either, letting the idea of saying it in person linger. is she supposed to put her money where her mouth is, or back off the worthy cause? orion mitchell picks passivity, so eloise bardot does the same. although she’s ready with the next insult just in cause it happens to crop up.

“a series, now that’s real interesting.” it wasn’t that film wasn’t working. she knew no matter what she bid on the next go around, she’d land it without much sweat. but that wasn’t exactly keeping her name in the press, nor was it lining her shelves with awards. she would settle for more points, but the proposition in front of her might even be the best of both worlds. “you’re supposed to tell me there’s a catch now.” curious eyes flit across his face, trying to find a crinkle of a tell. there isn’t one yet, either because orion mitchell has a good poker face or she hasn’t asked the right question. someone doesn’t get this close to the pulitzer accounts by just being genuine. “can’t just be that PBS wants me carte blanche, now can it.”

“How do you like that!” He laughs. His baby sis is a trip! And all she’s said to him so far is that he’s the new proud owner of the title of boyfriend. At least, that’s all that has filtered through, trickled into the synapses before distilling as the final product of conscious thought. She means well! He knows that better than anyone!

Not even a whack of the hand can tell him otherwise, only serves to make him laugh again, harder this time, to the point of even wheezing once. “Gee! You sure you don’t wanna have a go again at my specs? Took my hand for a fly, I bet! Ha! A real Venus Fly Trap, huh! Could’ve turned into a real Little Shop of Horrors scene! Ha!” Micah finally tames his breath from the humor that’s been inflicted on him, along with the sting to his knuckles that goes without serious notice. Can’t complain when she’s just given the a-okay! “Sure! Can be as small as you like, Lindy! It’ll be a blast! Just you, me, and long john Sylvie! What’s not to love?”

his humor is met only with a silent pinched mouth. she’s not amused by the thought that her brother is dating a doctor, and the memory of all the little shop of horror rewatches is not helping the situation. is the best she’s ever going to land audrey from their high school musical— absolutely not, and he’ll sure regret reminding her. but there’s more to think about than the memories she’d rather not share with the invasion of personal space in front of her. not when there’s more to figure out about the mystery girl. “her name’s sylvie?”

there can only be so many doctor sylvies in the city of los angeles, although there’s no accounting for taste in these parts. only one comes to mind, but that lady seemed too well adjusted to fall for a total goon. “are you bringing me to meet that hack social worker?” she remembers sitting in the prometheus offices being questioned about her comfort levels, how she felt given her relative age in the industry. whether she felt she needed to share anything to help her adjust in los angeles. as if! “never mind— offer’s totally off! i’m not going to therapy with you.” 

He smiles back at the laugh, an agreeable gesture that’s worn on a daily basis. She’s the nation’s darling. Everything about her screams classic Americana, and it sells. Orion doesn’t need to dig any further than a surface-level excavation, light dusting instead of earth-moving. “You did. For Harlots,” he goes on, hand smoothing down across the buttons of his vest while he sits opposite of her. He’s the proud owner of an Emmy. On paper. “A friend of mine is holding on to it.” He’ll go with that story. It’s not as if he doesn’t know where to look for it if he has to show it off. Another smile, slightly less agreeable than the first in the way it’s more forced, but true meaning only to the keenest eye. “Have you heard of Claudia Marshall?” He’s sure she has. Eloise is well-informed, and Hollywood is smaller than most people give it credit for; overlap is only natural.

“It won’t be long before you’ll get your own, too,” he adds. “Actually, I’m hoping to play a part in having you win one sooner than that.”

“oh brother, have i.” the exasperation in her voice is more good natured than it might have been a few months ago. that was before all of the puzzle pieces started falling into place about why the town drunk had thought she was good enough to pick who she rejected. now, even she had to admit it wasn’t a bad plan. not that that’s what orion was asking. “she sure is a piece of work!” as though there was some foggy incident in the past she was recalling but knew better than to hold onto as a grudge. “sorry for saying so about your friend.” matched with the genuine smile to back it up.

“you want to talk to me about an emmy!” the conversation pivots quickly to more interesting avenues, awards and spotlight shining bright on the horizon. after all, if the movies have been conquered with little effort, why not just keep persevering. “gee, you know just what to say to a girl.” after all, it was delivered with surety and a name. she wouldn’t exactly be keen on doing something called harlots, but other projects were fair game. she was open to pitches, and she was open to points. it was for orion to lose. “what’s so soon?”

The meeting with Sarah Kinney hadn’t gone the way he had wanted it to, which meant one thing: to do it all over again with the next choice. That next choice was in the icon league, and in no good conscious would he ever consider her to be second-rate. She only happened to be second-choice. There was a world of difference between the two, and one that was not going to be revealed to her.

“Thank you for taking the time to meet,” he starts off, a smile passed off to her before he moves to pull out her chair for her. It’s either an impulse from learned habit or from a natural gentleman. In this setting, it doesn’t matter. “You’ve been busy in a short amount of time.” He waits for her to take her seat, moving her closer to the restaurant’s table. “Hopefully not too busy, though.”

she waves away compliments assuming the next will be in ready supply, her curls are frizz-free and shine against the sun. she takes her chair, sitting upright and on time for the meeting that her agent has set up for her with the tv exec. although she wouldn’t normally consider such an offer, perhaps she needs something slower-paced. something more thought-provoking. and although it wasn’t the silver screen it was a medium of exploration. and perhaps someone mentioned it came attached with the point totals that the pulitzer family carried, who was she to say. she was merely an artist. 

“when it rains!” her laugh is the good natured american laugh that she’s practiced in the mirror a hundred times, there’s not a note that rings hollow as she tries to understand the angle of orion mitchell’s approach. she lets him take his own seat before attempting anything in the way of conversation. “it’s been something— but there’s always room for work.” she’s back to basics, moving from step one to two as though this is a dance she’s memorized long ago, and perhaps been preparing for her whole life. “i’m sure your schedule looks the same! was that an emmy i read about recently!”

“A real degree! Ha! Boy, oh, boy! What a funny! Has a bonafide doctorate! How about that! No funny papers for her!” After the double major master’s degree, Micah sure had a time. Almost had a doctorate himself! Wouldn’t that have been something? Two docs in the family! “Gee, can’t wait to see the look on mom and dad’s face. What a hoot! Just gotta run her by you first, Lindy! You’re the real test here! Bet she’ll pass with flying colors! You’ll be bugging me about tying the knot before you know it!”

What could go wrong? He had his protective sis on his side, after all! He couldn’t help but grin, reach over and ruffle her hair. “Oof! I get it! Have to go to bat for your big bro, huh? Sure am lucky to have ya!” He knew she didn’t mean all that. How could she? Claudia Marshall was the best in the biz! “No hard feelings for this guy! She’s a swell gal! Big fan still! Can’t argue with cupid’s arrow! Pulled a big ol’ loop-de-loop on us! Ha! That’s life!” All part of that giant sim called life! Full of glitches and cheat codes, no different than any of the arcade games that beeped around them. “Now, that’s what I call a grand plan! You could catch some grub with us! How’s supper looking? Bet you’re all booked up through new years, huh!”

“you got a doctor.” she discounts just about everything about her brother, he’s too much of a dope to understand that some people are tricky business. she doesn’t think that there’s anyone in the world quite as bright as she is, but that doesn’t mean that no one will take advantage. she is the real test, and she’s not just gonna let someone in on all the family secrets because they seems smart. her expression must come close to what he expects to see if he ever finds himself back in arizona. 

the moment his hand comes near her hair, she slapped it away with no thought for how hard her own action was. if it hurt, then he would know not to do it again. even though it didn’t seem to stick for staying away from girls who were going to leave him for second rate bullies that didn’t even share his points. “i have parties i have to go to.” and part of it was the waiting game. who was to say that if she just ignored the problem it would break up with him and go away. but he had a big mouth and she had some things she wanted to keep in order, so it was better to keep the circle small. “but i guess if it was small.”

Being ribbed by his baby sis only serves to make him laugh. It’s the combination of lil Lindy’s face and the jabbing words he can never take with more than a grain of salt. His breath leaves his lungs in the chuckles, wide grin in its wake. “Hooboy! No way! Ha! You sure are killing me tonight!” Micah inhales, a big gulp of that fresh arcade air, where it smells a bit like nachos and pop. “Smart! Boy, you better believe it!” Really speaks volumes how his face doesn’t lose an ounce of its glimmering happiness even as she goes on her fishing expedition, makes him laugh again, really. Now, it’s all just a funny memory. Ha! What a trip that was! “Bet I sure did look silly there for awhile! You don’t have to worry about that anymore, Lindy! Me and Claudia Marshall! Ha! Never was in the cards! Got ourselves two happy pairs instead of just one, how about that! You sure have a sixth sense for these things. You’re turning into a real matchmaker! It’s all thanks to that bite from the lovebug!”

“what’s she got, like a real degree or something?” there were plenty of ways to be smart without all that schooling, but gee if it wasn’t what their parents always seemed to think the big deal was! wow a real smart girl— the kind who goes to college. she was glad she hadn’t sent them a christmas card. 

the response to her other question garners an eyeroll, the overdramatic kind that only a little sister can offer when faced with the next line being i told you so. she knew that claudia marshall was never going to work out but she still had to play along didn’t she? and look at that, she was right! more than one type of smart. “she’s a drunk. total lameo.” emanated self-pity even if she pretended like she didn’t, and goll-ee some rich sap fell for it. if she could figure out the way to get points from julian santiago she sure would too. “lovebug nothing!” the sudden flash to her own relationship was met with pursed lip anger. there was nothing to talk about there. “you’re just an easy read! i still haven’t met this one, she could be a real pain too.”