Fabian C. Bishop

List of Fabian's Character Tropes

Little Victorian Man

"Man Becomes Black Sheep of Family by Being Brilliant Lawyer instead of Hick"

Lawful Neutral

Sex: Ew. No.

"Love is a Neurochemical Con Job says lonely man with no friends."

Anti-Tech

Voted Smartest Fool

Walking Dictionary

"Child Nerd Grows up to be Adult Nerd. Bullying Continues."

Abstinent

"Self-Proclaimed 'Tortured Soul' Points to Smiling Young Woman as Proof of Plight"

Secretary's Favorite Easy Mark

Bookworm™

“there’s no grief!” how could there be at a halloween party! she could think of a lot of different adjectives for it, spooky, terrifying, spiritual, terror laden— and the list went on. but that was the whole point! and even better, he agreed! if they were having a good time then there was only one answer, to ride it until the wheels fell off. and even then it might be able to skid a few more feet. the drinks were set down in front of them, little to answer for except that if she wasn’t taking one then she’d take two. 

“when there’s an open bar, that’s a sign from the big one.” there was no such thing as an unnecessary addition. if that was true, then life would have been something else entirely. something much sadder, and it wasn’t any more. it was all the good things that it could possibly be. “to not be a prude. come on— bottoms up!”

The big one? He's collected the context, is pointed in the right direction of the path she's laid out, and still a curious expression flits across his face. Had he more time in church than a library, he would have added horror. "You have a particularly unorthodox viewpoint on religion, Ms. Fehr," he comments, for once it nearly borders on ambivalence, close to acceptance. After all this time with her, it certainly ranks low amongst the other questionable acts, including the drink that's served, that stares back up at him.

There are a thousand protests that turn his tongue red, and a jaw that locks them down, clenching and unclenching in civil unrest. Eyes are shaped by disapproval, morphing into silent pleas. Finally, a strained sigh flares through the nose while hesitation still swims in his arm, how it gradually brings it up to his mouth before a whiff is taken, drawing back. "Is this undeniably fit for consumption?"

“oh my god— you’re so right!” she pulled at the lapel of her own suit, trying to straighten her posture that had started to grow lax as the conversation continued. fabian would have never slouched, or said a bad word. she was totally letting the act fall, no way to win best costume like that. “totally falling behind here. what would you have said? maybe like great scott!” she thinks about it for the same ten seconds that she gives every other thought in her mind, and then dances on to the next subject. he accepts her faux paux, she has made the adjustment. 

“a horrendous concoction.” she thinks about the description that he gives the drink, it sounds perfect for halloween. they must have thought about that when they picked it. “well now we totally have to try it. allow me.” with a laugh and flourished gesture, she took off towards the bartop to order the drinks that fit the mood so well. “two devil’s doses, my good sir.” she requested, winking at her addition to the statement. that sounded exactly like something fabian would say. uncanny, even. “can’t drink water at parties, total foul. it’d kill the mood completely— and we’re having a great time!”

He has never bred the words she thinks are befitting to his character, and it allows him, if for only one fleeting moment, to ponder their true origins and how they are related to her impression of him. As it evaporates, he is no closer to reaching a conclusion, and its remnants are left scattered and abandoned like wreckage across his face in curious forms. "No, I don't believe I would express myself in that manner," he tries to correct, but it is forged weakly, veins of future ruin imminent. There is no Scott that he is able to recall, at least not one of personal association. It grows to be a moot point; she is headed towards the very object he has tried to warn her of.

"It's no intent of mine to stifle your... mood, Ms. Fehr," he attempts, following hopelessly after, "but in this particular instance, it appears to be my bounden duty to repeat my grievances with this endeavor." Are they having a great time, though? The blinking of his eyes betrays his rippling confusion before the vision flickers away, returning just as swiftly. "I suppose we are to a fair extent," he mumbles in agreement, as if a louder volume is too great for the words to handle, but it doesn't smooth out the lines that are forming across his brow. "With that being said, wouldn't it be prudent to see it as an indicator that this is an unnecessary addition to the evening?"

“always happens.” she made no attempt to try and do anything about the stain that he was referring to. there was no point in worrying about dying your tongue a particular color. if she stressed about that sort of thing she would have had to give up ring pops long ago, an unthinkable tragedy. “koolaid, snow cones.” the list could have gone on given time and attention span, but she took another sip of drink instead as though that emphasized the point better. “inescapable.” she nodded at her own explanation as though she was giving sage advice about her current state, that there was simply nothing to be done. 

“offensive? shit!” wide eyed with disbelief, she knew fabian would never lie to her and so had no option but to assume that she had been offending everyone the entire time. that she had committed some inexcusable thing that now bound them together, only processing binary thought. “don’t tell anyone— we used to say it in class like all the time.” there was no reason to think that harm could befall her in those few years spent running through fields and drinking dorm made wine and moonshine. really now, all that concerns her is that there is an issue for fabian really. though she isn’t sure which of the phrases has him turned around so much that he’s talking about water. “the party’s barely started! water would totally kill the buzz!” she hardly drank it as it was. when faced with all of the opportunities that awaited at every gas station and soda fountain, why would anyone settle for normal water. “they’ve got something called the devil’s dose i haven’t even tried yet.”

One curse word is the equivalent of a verbal gunshot. It smacks into Fabian, rippling down his spine to crook it back from its straight posture. His skeleton is a rigid mess, sinews knotted up in the face while his eyes remain on her, unable to stray. "Ms. Fehr, please, if you could lower your tone," he began, words molded to be swept away, "if for only whilst you are representing my image..." He has no choice left but to release his breath in a heavy sigh, the closest to accepting of some apologetic secret. "It's quite all right, now that you know." There is no worm wriggling inside of his heart to hold against her, a parasite of a different nature threatens its being instead, another in the form of whatever devil's dose may entail.

His face looks exactly to one who has caught a lemon wedge in their mouth before having it lit on fire to breathe in its smoke. "If you'd allow me to say, it may be wise to consider why such a concoction would ever be named something as dreadful as that before consuming it. Surely, it must be as horrendous as it's implied to be. I implore you to reconsider, Ms. Fehr. I would be more than willing to retrieve a glass of water for you, if necessary."

“flattered! yes!” she cheered again as if this was the resounding success she’d been hoping for. and she had, really. why else would you dress up like someone if you didn’t want them to like it. she took another sip of her drink, letting the red stain her mouth although that was decidedly un-fabian like to do so. finally the handkerchief made its way into her vision, and she took it simply to tuck it in next to the pocket square that she already had. this one was more authentic though, she’d be happy to explain it to anyone who cared to ask. 

“ah! fraulein kant.” she tapped his shoulder as it it were the exact sound of two puzzle pieces clicking together. “i had to write a paper on envy once and definitely used him, totally remember.” remember the name at least, the content of the paper was lost to the ages. the kind of thing that was written in one sitting with the hopes of cohesion to never again be legible. “yup, i can totally see it now.” his line about the motivation didn’t make much sense to her, weren’t they all there with the motivation to dress up for the party. “that’s too bad about motivation. would have been able to say that you love kant as much as i love you!

She cheered as if she had won some notable prize, but all there was to give was Fabian's confused gaze, his nebulous expression that was caught straining for reason, the stiff body language of a man who could not climb around his concrete walls. There was nothing left to do but watch as his handkerchief was taken as decoration instead of intended use. "No, Ms. Fehr," he began in desperate breath in face of her glowing smile, twisting the muscles of his face as if indicating pain. "Forgive me, but that was meant to be used to freshen your... Well, your choice of beverage has stained your... mouth." The last word landed oddly, an embarrassment that had the strangest aftertaste, swept aside with a blink of the eyes before his arms crossed over his chest.

His brows knitted together, unsure of the name she spoke, even less sure of the touch to his shoulder. "I regrettably believe you're mistaken, Ms. Fehr. Fraulein is now considered a mildly offensive term for a German woman." His arms pulled in a little tighter, shrugging off the remnants of the feeling leftover from the tap, only to have his nose flare slightly at her last words. What was he meant to say back to such statements that clearly must have been coerced from her drink? He stood for a moment, eyes wondering where to land their focus before settling on her face after a belated moment. "That is..." they glanced off before returning, new breath in his lungs, "considerate of you to say, but may I find you a glass of water before those words belong to another who is less understanding of their true meaning?"

“do you like it!” she was delighted, the happiness apparent all over her face. he got it right and he was totally shocked. that was enough for her, giving him the little excitement for the night. “it was just meant to be.” she took a drink from her cup to prevent any further spilling, giving him time to decide if he wanted to be a member of the fehr family. “you are totally radical as is.” she nodded as though that was the purpose of the statement he made, and not the rejection that it in fact was. that was alright, she wouldn’t know what to do if he was her other brother— would she have to pick a favorite then? would theo get jealous? way too much drama for halloween. “you’ve got the wrong suit on anyways” she pointed at his costume, because it was a costume party and that’s what everyone simple had to do. the notion that he hadn’t dressed up didn’t cross her mind. “this one makes you look more philosophical, less lawyer-y”

He was at a loss for words, stupefied into silence with no immediate answer that would do justice to what feeling he had. He was most certain that 'like' was not the key, but he also could not wrap around 'hate' either. There was only one word bobbing from the wreckage of an expanded lexicon that could be grasped, the liferaft that was riddled in holes. "I'm flattered," he muttered, shifting eyes to her fingers and the drink that dyed them before his own hand slipped to his breast pocket. "As it was intended to do so, Ms. Fehr, but not in those specific terms." His handkerchief was held out for her, a wariness to the gesture, as if the worry of her touch was bleeding through as much as the punch would. "For the sake of the festivities, I've decided to emulate Immanuel Kant." His brow furrowed for a moment before smoothing out with a nod, a memory coming to the surface. "I believe you mentioned to me before that you had studied philosophy, which is why you may have already recognized the direction behind the costume.--Although, that is not to say that mine reflects the same nature as yours, in terms of the motivating thought."

“c! found you!” she threw her hands up in excitement, showing off the suit that she’d found while thrifting. it looked so like the ones that she saw fabian in every day, and that was the end of it. she’d wanted to wear it anyways, halloween was a happy occurrence. the kind of think that happened when fate met blind optimism, sailing through guided by dim thoughts that it would all work out. “it’s like looking in a mirror right! how great is this!” she adjusted the tie with one hand, sloshing her glass of punch over already red dyed finger tips. “we could be twins, well triplets— that’d be radical.”

Her hands rose up, and instinct overtook him, taking a step back in primordial uncertainty to what action would possess her next. To see that she was only showcasing the garment that she had donned was met with mixed finality, ultimately, although slowly, reclaiming the ground he had surrendered. The distance between them was maintained, and start of conversation redirected his attention, back to the matter at hand.

"I beg your pardon," he began with confusion. "Am I correctly inferring that you have chosen me as the inspiration behind your costume? For what purpose?" Surely it couldn't be left to ego alone to come to such a conclusion, but the resemblance was... unnerving in a manner, almost as unnerving as the idea of familial relations. "It would most certainly--" he paused, a short breath consumed to reroute, a blink to refresh, a nod to continue, "be... peculiar." Wretched. Another blink, another adjustment of weight shared against his feet. "You and I... and Mr. Fehr... are better suited as we currently are, which is as radical as the three of us should be allowed to be."

“Ms. Fehr,” he begins carefully, eyes still processing what is displayed in front of him, a vague sense of familiarity in a blue suit and tie, the briefcase that is near, but is ultimately grappling with the answer. “Would you mind elaborating on whom it is that you are meant to portray?”

“what? no. totally no.” although she gave his question a thoughtful pause, as though maybe he was the one who had the facts right despite not ever being there. it would have been funny if he had been, lurking in the corner of her llife the whole time without her ever realizing it. “high school for sure. because you had to drink it under the football bleachers.” no, virginia was to the best of her recollection, a fabian free state. and so was the memory. it would ahve been fun though, an addition to the group of ragtag artists and skaters that made up the core of the fehr friend group. he probably would have liked the wine. strawberry! who didn’t. “it was totally chill, the corner store guy didn’t really believe in checking id.” practically family by the time they graduated. 

“woah— nothingness. that’s deep.” easily guided from one topic to the next, readily commenting on anything that fabian might have found peculiar about her thoughts. amassed from nothingness. if she had a pen she would have written it down, but it was doomed to slip into the next of her memories, and then washed out completely with the dawning of the next day. the rejection of her wish to stay with him was glossed over with the same shrug of in difference, she couldn’t see why people needed more than one bedroom, but it was what he said. “you think i need more than one bedroom? me and theo shared forever.” and now shared again, the way some twins always tended to be. uncertain of where one ended and the other began, a likeness in so many traits that she didn’t see much a need for her own space even once it was offered to her. 

“listen, where would we be if we didn’t all rampage against society every so often.” society tried to tell her a lot of things. not to climb in people’s apartments through the fire escape. that tony hawk was maybe starting to become less cool. it was all totally random and she didn’t need to listen to it at all. “i’ll say hi to you through it. want to bet the place is unlocked? we could be next door neighbors for a few day. that’d be fun.” it wasn’t that her idea to stay with fabian had dissipated, simply that sometimes, in the way that they were able to divine, new ideas opened up. alternate routes that sounded just as fun and got her to the same destination. out of the apartment so theo’s boyfriend could kill the flies. hanging out with fabian still. “do you know morse code? we wouldn’t even need the hole then.”

Like most aspects of his life, there was a brief window available to him that could afford him a sense of vindication or minor relief, before it slammed down on his neck, forcing him back into his hovel of despair. "High school! Ms. Fehr, do be serious! Was the employee in question not aware of the legal consequences that he should have rightfully been charged with?" A person such as that couldn't possibly exist, and yet, naturally he would. Within Fabian's radius, he would surely be entered into it, even as a character to a time in the past he wasn't even privy to except from second-hand.

Lines sprawled from the corners of his nose, the implication of sharing his most personal space enough to curdle his brain and all that encapsulated the rest of the nervous system. "It's--" His own thought process stuttered, stunned momentarily into submission before being prodded into compliance. "To share a room to sleep in with your twin brother hardly compares to sharing one with.... a neighbor, certainly!" There was no other classification he could sort himself into. No other title made valid nor logical sense in any scheme. "Furthermore," he added, "I don't relish in the notion of either of us sleeping on the floor. It's inhospitable and inhumane." Also, the looming threat of his bed being targeted with rotting fruit one day was enough of a deterrent.

she looked at the ear set in plain packaging as fabian rattled around the office trying to get as far away from it as he possibly could. she knew that’s probably how she should have been reacting, thrown back by the impossibility of what had just happened. she was pretty sure it was real. not a hundred percent. she’d tried not to stay close to those scenes when they played out in the backrooms of the casino floors. or sam’s kitchen. anything of the like. but she’d already said it was just a prank. nothing to be scared of. still, probably shouldn’t look too closely just yet. 

“not office security?” but she did as instructed, sort of. instructions half followed were the ones best suited to her. the rotary phone that sat on her desk was picked up off its receiver, and left hanging as she dropped down into her seat. she wasn’t calling the cops, that much she would stick to. if it was real, then it was for her to solve not the lapd to ruin. an ear in the office. how very nancy drew of them. “i don’t want to go over them.”

she brought the handset up to her ear as if she had the intention of making any move. she didn’t. it beeped in her ear while fabian breathed in the fabric softener to hide the scent of mothballs. “do you know who would do this?” ear was a pretty strong message about keeping secrets, but to this office? it was just the job. her voice didn’t quiver as much as it should have. she cleared it, gave a big swallow, tried to think of something shocking before she continued. “they’re going to ask.”

He was not accustomed to scenarios of this magnitude. There was no universe where Fabian C. Bishop was calm and collected, free of all nausea, when it came to finding sliced off pieces of the human anatomy. In private, he most likely would have already heaved. As it was already, he was fighting the urge to keep all contents of his stomach intact. His imagination was running rampant with speculation, attempting to connect the dots when it came to his office's involvement with such gruesome circumstances. Had these once belonged to a contract? Was this the message of a ransom being wanted for the safe return of them? Did this happen to be a threat from the radical side of the anti-cancellation realm? Were their lives currently at risk? The packaging itself could have been dusted in anthrax. Everyone within the building besides themselves would have to evacuate.

"Notify both," he answered, stirred away from his reeling mind while he stepped further away, keeping his arm to his nose while he ventured in the direction of the door. "Ms. Jennings, please, make your way into my office." The lock was heard, clicked into place before he turned around. "We cannot afford the risk of further exposure to whatever may be lurking." His body felt on the fainter side when his eyes swerved to the open box, the knowledge of already being potentially sentenced to death by mere touch.

“very rarely! that’s not a no!” she was pleased with the answer, the obviousness of it written across her face. she’d taken it as a yes, smiled big with the ideas that came flooding along side it. they’d have fun, because everyone knew that one glass never actually meant one glass. she got it. it was just too bad that it had to be wine, she tried not to make a face at the thought, trying to turn around drink ideas that he might want. “i’ve got strawberry hill, i think. that stuff’s a total trip. we used to drink it in high school.” but as with all things that might have had a clear answer, it was bound to be sidetracked by a story that had little impact on anything. “like over the summers? oh man, great time. but it’s more one bottle than one glass, to get the full effect.” but if wine didn’t have to be the only thing…“sparkling water, lavender, and deep eddy.” she twisted his recipe again to get closer to her idea. as if she was creating a shopping list for herself based on nothing more than a maybe. as long as it wasn’t a firm no get out, she’d take the opportunity. 

“are you saying the window wouldn’t let them out?” she’d never thought of that part, but she guessed it was technically a two way entrance. someone goes in, a bug goes out. brow furrowing as if the window was offering a particularly complex dilemma. maybe it was a three way thing, if you counted the up and down. “stay here! sure! great idea!” as if he was offering a sleepover not simply repeating her own thoughts. but it made total sense. if she couldn’t use her own apartment, and he couldn’t find tommy, then she was running out of options. ‘”i guess i could flip a coin for who to call.”

but her attention on the task was short lived, easily distracted by the next shiny topic. “can i see the hole? i bet he just wanted to talk.” it was easy to see the practicality in the action. fabian was a well of information, shouting questions through the wall would be easy. he’d probably be great at a trivia night. and it was just fun. what better way to show that they were all friends here. “did you say hi?”

His own words boomeranged back to him, forged and used against him in the kindest of daggers. It did not mean that it wasn't capable of producing the same amount of damage as any other weapon of a more malicious intent. To have them be wielded by Clementine Fehr was danger itself. "It most certainly should not be taken as my acceptance to the invitation either," he corrected, attempt of a dodge to avoid bloodsport, winding up with a nick instead. He hadn't asked for anything from her, but she gave anyways. She opened her arms to him to share drinks, opened her past to share stories to pair with them. "Ms. Fehr, I don't mean to amend your retelling of your own memory"--he was convinced, if offering him Italian mouthwash and tales of continuous drinking were any indication by themselves, that her recollection had been tampered with--"but you must mean your days at university; you were much too young to even purchase the alcohol required had you been any younger." And yet, in his heart of hearts, he knew that she would, without fail, have found a way.

"Where on earth have you imagined them originating?" He was without breath, all of it huffed out in an exasperated sigh, arguing a topic he had no claim over its knowledge, except the very fundamentals that all were meant to possess. Common knowledge was not very common indeed. "They do not amass from nothingness." Another sigh, and it was taken and twisted and released like a projectile, piercing him in the chest, enough to make him nearly choke on that spoken nothingness. "It is far removed from a great idea!" he protested. "What I mean to address, Ms. Fehr," he continued, lowering his voice from its sudden inclination, "is that you are gravely mistaken. My apartment is furnished with only one bedroom. It would be completely unsuitable for you."

“oh your word.” she nodded, as though he had given a sage answer, one that made perfect sense as a defense. she didn’t have stake in the matter one way or another, at the end of the day clementine fehr was a dead-end. she was a surface level sparkle that would retreat to the east coast again given due time. was it a boyfriend? a husband? some word that would set him off again on a tangent of impropriety. that was fine, it clearly wasn’t her place to say which it was today. “it’s generous of you, yeah.” she’d have to pin it, see if she cared, and then maybe check back in. but it was the only aspect of fabian’s personal life that ever seemed to trouble him, and so it tended to be the thing she circled back to. it was that or broadway, but she didn’t like to harp on open wounds given the file in her hand. 

“no, it’s in our jurisdiction to alphabetize.” eventually, poorly, if at all. she wondered if what happened if a waiver of rights was lost before the ink had all dried. but it was best to try that on someone that he wouldn’t be checking in on. she didn’t get the appeal of broadway, but she knew how to avoid talking about the things that people liked. it would just make him irritable, and heaven forbid that turn into him trying to correct her work more. it was easy, if you didn’t have anything nice to say, tobias would prefer that the opinion stayed locked inside. “and to—”

his abrupt shift in tone caused her to look up quickly, finally the second package was opened and it was clearly something not meant for their office. file dropped down to the desk as she looked a the new package. “is that real?” his second package was a human ear, set in nondescript packaging. it was a message, it was a threat to something. but if she knew one thing, it was that she didn’t need the police for this. “did you get pranked?”

What other fragment of earth's offerings could possibly get in between Fabian Bishop's need to reprove Harper Jennings for abandoning her secretarial duties routinely, particularly when it came to properly filing paperwork? It fit well in a pushed around cardboard box, corners rounded by the travel that he would have possibly taken more care towards to noticing immediately had he not been taken so abruptly aback by severed ears. A shame.

Wretched stomach. He could feel it bubble and stir, an abyss of sickness inside of him, even as he made the effort to breathe. Inhale through the nose, exhale through the mouth. Though, in that case, where the nose was concerned, he could then be introduced to the smell of soured flesh, making him gag before he could answer Ms. Jennings. His arm flew up, bend of the elbow pressed to his nostrils, scent of clean laundry of a fresh-pressed suit taking hold. Later, it would undoubtedly be tinted with tobacco, no matter how well it would be covered for the sake of anyone else.

"The local authorities, Ms. Jennings," he called out, bobbing out from his makeshift hazmat covering before diving in once more to gather the right amount of air for another slice of conversation. "There is absolutely no reason for this office to be subject to--what you so lightly refer to as--a prank of this caliber." Another filtered breath, another step away, this time towards the landline. "If you are in too much shock, I must understand. Please, sit down at once."

“you sound just like the dean did! very sage. he was upset about not getting a party invite though,” the dots that connected were not in order, a disorganized sparking pattern mixed with thoughts about college. what had been good about it? the sports, the parties, the clubs that no one had checked her id in from day one. it wasn’t all leisure, but it didn’t all have to be work either. life was about finding balance for these kinds of things. “you know you’re always invited to our parties right? i’d be so stoked if you came.” even the ones that took place underneath those near abandoned overpasses, although it didn’t really seem like fab’s vibe. she’d make anything work. “i bet we could come up with some fun drinks. i’m thinking like lavender extract and vanilla vodka, add some everclear. i bet it’d be so classy.” 

the question of her diploma bypassed completely with the lack of her own answer. it was somewhere! it definitely existed in the world, or maybe her parents’ basement. there were way more important things to deal with. “okay fingers crossed. see—” hand held up to exemplify her words before dropping back down. “that was for you, definitely down for the details.” whatever those happened to be. she didn’t really know what she was getting into, but fabian was her friend. what was the harm in letting a friend see your work. 

“wait you really don’t think i should stay there? i mean it’s only in the bedroom.” she didn’t think too hard about the situation. what was the worst case scenario, that the fruit got eaten and the flies left to their next home. “and we leave the window open.” the idea of having to call someone seemed already out of her control. where did you start with that sort of thing. she didn’t have the slightest idea and it all seemed a little too adult. “i really only came to la to see theo.” other accommodations meant couch surfing which she wasn’t really opposed to but it was kind of a bummer. “but i guess i could stay here.” she patted the couch she was currently sitting on. “or maybe uh,” she furrowed her brow, trying to think of people who still lived in the building so she wouldn’t have to give up the time with her brother. “have you seen tommy around? i bet i could get his spare.”

Fabian's expression was reminiscent of a wheel spinning, little sections of it titled with various emotions with the pointer flicking in hesitation on reservation, distaste, appreciation, before finally landing on bewilderment. "Stoked?" he repeated, nearly to himself, as if saying aloud would hopefully conjure up the definition. It did not. "Is this in relation to Bram Stoker?" He didn't see the connection, shown in the way his brows nearly bridged together and became one. He had no other comment towards the extended invitation that he was so self-assured would be declined without a second-thought on the matter, especially upon hearing the drinks involved. He was not familiar with Evergreen, nor did he deign to question it at this point. "I very rarely imbibe, Ms. Fehr, and on the occasions that I do, it will be a singular glass of red wine. If you do happen to employ the use of the lavender extract, however, it may do well in a glass of sparkling water." It didn't sound... unpleasant.

He stared at her fingers crossing in front of him, lips twisting around as much as her digits before he straightened again, providing an inch more distance between himself and her. He could not explain why. It felt appropriate to keep space, as if the sight of her hand raised towards him triggered the insistence. "Very well," he finally answered, moving on.

“well, held no interest.” there was plenty of proof to the contrary, considering that he was keeping the book at all. flustered answers about how there wasn’t room for any intrusion of personal lives in their offices. funny how it never seemed to matter when it was about the complaints that piled up, but his apartment did have a strangely high number of tenants with minor offenses. how he ended up there was a question she was still in search of. but instead of forcing him to confront his obvious oversight, she gave him the easy out. never say she was insensitive. “are you actually going to review it?” 

besides, how could she harp on a point that they could return to any time someone played their music too loud, when she had a more time sensitive file in her hand. “you’re really torn up about this one.” what was there to know about carolina papen besides the truly astounding string of middle names in between. and an astonishingly far reaching broadway career given her age. the ever shifting debate between which of the two might hold more power, film or the stage. what did it really matter when they could all be held to the same downfall. 

“you know you’ve got a second package to take the edge off.” 

Fabian was an irritable creature, a crustacean of routine, of principles, of firm words set in quicksand. The nostrils flared from the intake of air, the chest rising with an even more poised posture. "I'm sure I'm not privy to the implication that you are making reference to, Ms. Jennings." The book was boxed up, put to the side, out of immediate sight, and hopefully soon to disappear from the conversation, as well. He only needed to add the proper parting words to put it to rest. "I gave my word to Ms. Fehr that I would. For that very reason, I will, but it is not out of curiosity nor direct interest. It is simply a means to fulfill a generous promise, for which hold no expectations." He couldn't imagine himself gaining much pleasure from it, but it would be improper to renege on his offer.

He sighed quietly, attention shifting back to Carolina Papen's finalized paperwork. "My personal feelings on the matter do not matter in this instance," he answered back, the type of neutrality he was meant to possess. "It is not within our jurisdiction to adjust ethics based on emotion." There was nothing more than that, in spite of the heart saying she was wasting her talents by giving it freely to a cesspool of glittering lights and tawdry scripts.

"Very well," he relented, eyes glancing at the second package while regaining the letter opener. The tape was easier to peel somehow, or perhaps it was his mind not fully concentrating on the matter at hand. Whatever the reasoning being was, the slits were made, the package opened. What was seen was wrapped in brown paper, which he drew apart to reveal... "What on earth could this--" and then he was silenced, struck in the ribcage in a sudden jolt that clenched his lungs before traveling down to his stomach, lurching him away. Nausea swelled inside, entire face scrunching as though he had tasted bile, before forcing his head up, direction of the face opposite to the open box.

"Connect me with the Los Angeles police department at once!"

the inflection in his question rolled right of her shoulders, if there was ever any offense directed towards a fehr, she certainly didn’t feel it. “english, no! way too hard. you’re supposed to go to college for fun.” the note on who she might have been attending along side was lost all the same. she had been there for the clubs and the parties, wandering dorm halls and the endless buffet at the dining hall. classes had been coincidental, a place to meet people. “philosophy. i think. i’m pretty sure i finished it.” they let her walk at graduation at least. or skateboard across the stage, her picture shaking hands with the dean had been no more than a blur. the diploma itself was lost to the ages. 

“you guys always beat us at football. lame weekend all four years.” she didn’t know who decided parties were only for the winning team, but it sure made things a bummer.  but who had time to dwell on the negatives. she wasn’t even sure if college was important when all was said and done. “masterpiece! you think? i’ll ask them to put it on the back cover. masterpiece says fabian bishop. do you have a sharpie so i can write myself a reminder?” she would have gotten up and gotten it herself, but she was still playing patient. and she was doing it pretty well, she considered. add actress to her list of abilities. “i was going to add the clementine thing too but, if it’s not mine.” she shrugged, though slightly deflated. it would have been fun if it was for her. too bad.

“i don’t really know who to call. cant we just throw the clementines out and then deal with it later?” the way he was addressing the situation was almost too overwhelming than the actual problem at hand. she didn’t really come over to get his opinion on the mattress, she’d only wanted to say hi to her best friend in the complex. well second. theo would never let her think that. it wouldn’t be true. “i mean it was his idea, he’ll figure it out.” even if fabian didn’t trust him, she knew her brother would eventually have to dump the mattress. can’t sleep in a room with flies! what if they got in your nose! “do you have an air mattress or anything?”

"Any institution that is reserved for the purpose of higher education does not exist to exercise leisure, Ms. Fehr," he corrected, stiffness encircling the eyes, radiating out from the skeleton beneath the pale flesh that counted the hours of library visitations and lone companionship behind closed doors. Understanding the principalities of constitutional law did not hinge on fun, even when the moments of enjoyment often coincided with it. "How on earth are you unable to be certain of your graduation?" Puzzling look flooding his face, staring at her blatantly, as if it was the most shocking thing to have heard from her, trumping fruit flies and various other articles that perhaps were only blocked out of the mind instead of available for comparison to the former. "It is one of the most momentous occasions in any individual's life, certainly more memorable than any sporting event, regardless of victorious success." As if you guys could have ever included Fabian C. Bishop, the least likely to be attendee much less player.

"I have yet to read it to offer my verdict one way or the other," he amended, eyes on her with reservation at the forefront. "Though, I... will refrain from any judgment or expectation until it is reviewed fully. If it interests you to this much of an extent, I will provide you my critique in detail when there is a moment to do so." There was the matter of the workload he was employed to take care of, but it didn't seem pertinent to explain, nor did it seem to be a priority to address Clementine literature, how it did not belong to her in any reasonable sense, leaving only the unreasonable.