s e l e n a

“Right… I think I grew out of seeking parental approval thirty years ago.”

Evie was a little surprised when the woman lingered and didn’t just choose to walk on, though her comment did make Evie laugh. “That is true, but I just don’t think that that’s a look needed for public,” she admitted. In fact as she thought about it she realised that she had never actually worn it around her neck like it was intended. As the other woman began to guess what Evie did she raised an eyebrow, not really surprised when the guess was incorrect. She shook her head, “nope, gosh if you trusted me to design a set there would be trip hazards everywhere.”

“Not set design, then.” Shame. The girl seemed like the artistic type --  - or at least the type who had an affinity for building set pieces day in and day out - -- but Selena had been wrong before. She gave another once-over to her subject before settling on her second guess, “Something managerial? Part of the cast?” It was a shot in the dark at best, but she managed to infuse the tiniest amount of confidence in her words, as if willing a stranger to fit a certain archetype had worked before. She forsook her pursuit on the same breath, shrugging in defeat, “You’re just going to have to tell me, I think. We’ll be here all day if I keep trying to guess.”

Sasha was usually a big fan of punctuality; it was very rare that one could find a moment where she was late to anything, no matter whether it was a meeting with a friend, work, an event, anything, really. Today, however, was the first time since she had started her job at the gym that she was a good fifteen minutes late. The reason: Mowgli, her Siberian husky. Truly, she had always thought of herself as dramatic, but her dog, frankly, took the cake. This wasn’t the first time he had faked not feeling well just because he knew his owner had to go to work, but it had by far been the most believable. Well, until he had completely snapped back into his old self ten minutes later, thinking he had succeeded. And so she was at this point almost running from the tube station towards her place of employment, unaware that she had just accidentally lost her finger wraps. It was only when someone spoke to her that she realized what had happened. “Oh, gosh!” she exclaimed, shaking her head at herself, yet grateful the blonde had said something. “Thank you, I would have been so screwed without them!” Quickly she jogged back to where she had dropped the fabric, returning to her previous spot a moment later. “I know I’m not exactly the person you’d expect to be carrying wrist wraps.” After all, she didn’t exactly look like the typical person practicing martial arts.

“I can’t imagine a situation that would call for a dire need for -- - what are those? Gloves? Hand... tape?”  Seemed like it, though Selena had only taken a cursory glance toward the unintentionally discarded baggage. “Unless you’re planning on being in a street fight after brunch.”

“Oh no. That was definitely not me.” Collins leaned to one side and peered over the woman’s shoulder to see whatever it was on the floor for a moment before looking back at her. “Nope. No idea.” He confirmed and smiled after a few seconds, still in front of her. “You knew it wasn’t me, didn’t ya? Just wanted an excuse to get a piece of this young ass?” If Collins was anyone else, he would probably be hiding his face from the cringe of his own words. But he was Collins, and he didn’t care what came out of his mouth. All he cared about was having a good time and maybe entertaining a few bodies.

You know it wasn’t me, didn’t ya?

“I wouldn’t be wasting my time if I did.”  It seemed like the obvious response. Selena was dressed for a meeting -- - sharp suit, stilettos, not a misplaced hair on her head - -- and couldn’t imagine a reality in which she appeared to give enough of a shit to stop and help strangers on the street. When his actual motivations were revealed -- - whether they were flirting or joking at the expense of a much older woman was hard to tell - -- she chanced herself a moment to arch her brows and size the poor boy up. “You’re not my type.”  Among other things. “And shouldn’t you be in school? The semester’s nearly over, isn’t it? You’ll be repeating grade ten again if you’re not careful.”

Evie was on her way to work, she always found it a little odd heading in for an evening show when she’d had the afternoon off, the other girls had already done one show and were killing time until the next, whereas she was arriving fresh. She liked to get there early, be there when they came off from the matinee, even though she wasn’t needed for a while. She was taking a detour through the park when she heard someone speak to her, turning as she reached the pedestrian crossing. “Oh thank you!” she said as she looked to where the woman was pointing, “I need that to get me into the theatre so you are a lifesaver,” she beamed, doubling back a few steps to grab the lanyard that had fallen from her pocket.

Selena had always been the nosy type -- - curious, her brother had called it without bothering to hide the thin layer of disdain toward a snooping younger sibling - -- so it was only natural that she had suspected the lanyard before doing the noble thing. Turning the plastic over to it’s rightful owner had taken no more than two seconds, which is where the conversation should have ended. Instead, she handed off the plastic and gestured vaguely toward the pocket from whence it fell. “You know, there’s a cord to keep it around your neck.” The obvious, if not insulting, implication was natural and delivered with no trace of malice or incredulity. She was simply teasing a stranger who probably wanted to be on their way. “I noticed the theater’s name on it. What is it you do? No, wait... Let me guess.” A show was made of sizing up a stranger, “Something artistic. Set design?”

“Unfortunate,“ Edison concluded, taking a bite of toast. “We weren’t. It was a joke.“ Edison sighed, wishing he had a paper to reach for to dismiss her. Instead, he was forced to trace the rim of his tea & shake his head at the suggestion of an edible arrangement being sent. “Not a tube of mints?” Edison questioned, brow lifting lightly. “Please,“ Edison lamented. “Don’t get me so excited so early in the morning.“ It’d have been his lucky day wouldn’t it? His biggest rival selling her team off. A period of transition would lend itself to a weakness to be exploited, but he should be so lucky. Not that in truth he wanted that scenario at all. If there wasn’t any excuse for them to be seen together how would all of this work? He chose not to think on the subject, recognizing it for what it was – bullshit. “What’s owning a team got to do with being Henry’s fifth wife?” Edison asked, polishing off his toast. “I wouldn’t go anyway. I’d have my assistant send a gift though. Something nice. “

“You should stop telling jokes.” The suggest was matter-of-fact enough to border on hurtful, but was softened by a sip of tea and a lack of deliberate eye contact. She couldn’t suppress a grin brought forth from the idea of a tube of mints being sent to Harold, though the idea of selling Arsenal FC was enough to reroute her brightening mood. “If I sold the team, what would you have to do with your time? I can’t imagine you’d be having breakfast with Glazer.” Then again, perhaps Edison had turned over a new leaf during their brief parting. But she knew just as well as he did that their current arrangement was the best situation for the both of them. Without their respective teams, they’d both be fated to spend the last twenty years of their lives in separate spheres. While that wasn’t a wholly impossible undertaking, it was one that Selena had no interested in pursuing at the present moment. So she sipped her tea and ignored the implication that laid between the alongside an ill-fated invitation to an utterly ridiculous stag party. “If I’m selling this team, then I’ll need to bleed someone else for money. Another husband might be just the ticket -- you never know.”

“Oh, but think of the fun.” Edison goaded, allowing himself a self-serving smirk as she plucked the letter out of his hand. “Yes, actually. I can’t speak to the breath but he was at Eton.” Edison took a second to try & devise a way to describe his old friend but resorted to making a motion to his eyes. “Big ole blue eyes. You could swim in them.” Edison said, smiling again as he lamented. “Oh, fuck off.” Edison huffed, taking a seat at the kitchen table & using his mug of earl grey, scooted the letter away. “Gemma probably wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for Henry’s first marriage.” Edison sipped his tea as if it wasn’t a hot ass take. He hid a grin in his mug, sure to make keep his expression neutral when he placed it back down on the empty envelope like a sad, flimsy coaster. “I stand by my original invitation. – He’d pay top dollar if that’s what you’re holding out for.”

“I remember the breath. Not the eyes.” She had some vague memory of the boy -- - his eyes weren’t exactly on the top five list of features she had memorized - -- but even Selena knew not to cross that line. Admitting she had briefly pined for one of his school mates -- - from afar, and downwind of the poor boy - -- wouldn’t sit well with a breakfast of vodka and toast. It was, apparently, fine for Edison to admit that he had met his ex wife through the friend. “Oh, well I didn’t know you two were best mates. Maybe I should be sending him my congratulations, too. Could ship an edible arrangement post hate.”

Honestly, he should’ve known. He should’ve been aware that the mere fact that he was aggravated by the invitation would lead his current company to dispute the sheer audacity of a forty year old man’s fourth pre-nuptial attempt at youthful celebration. It didn’t help the old school mate’s case that Edison had been through one tireless divorce & that he couldn’t imagine queueing up a fourth. “You want to go?” Edison asked, ignoring the tip & instead offered the letter Selena’s way. “Guy’s a blast. I’m sure they’d be happy to have a female in their presence that they didn’t have to pay for.”

The sheer thought of attending a stag party was enough for Selena to turn up her nose. “They wouldn’t know what to do if they had to talk to a woman with half a brain.” The letter itself was plucked up using only an index finger and thumb, regarded with disgust as she read the names. “Sounds familiar, though. Did you used to hang out with him? Is this the one with the terrible breath?” That was, for all intents and purposes, the best way she could phrase her distaste before the paper fluttered back to the table before her. “I think you should go. Maybe take Gemma. Make it a family outing.” After careful consideration of the idea, a light flashed through Selena’s eyes, “Actually, that’s not a terrible idea. You should take some additional guests. Have a whole school reunion with Halitosis Henry.” Or whatever the poor fuck’s name was.

“You’ve got to be joking.“

His displeasure was palpable but didn’t appear to be quite warranted by the letter & torn envelope in his hand. “Sorry,” He muttered to the individual closest. He shook his head, rolling his eyes. “The man’s forty-one years old & he’s still trying to have a stag party.”

A stag party. She might’ve rolled her eyes at the idea if it hadn’t been presented with such impassioned aggravation. Rather than take Edison’s side -- - something she was loathe to do even on her best days - -- she opted instead to shrug as if the notion was the most normal thing in the world. “Some people like to have fun.” It was too easy to remind him that he teetered on the brink of being the sad forty year old man hosting a bachelor party; he would’ve seen that coming from a mile away and could’ve easily written her off with little to no preparation. “I know that’s probably a foreign concept to you, but I’m sure there’s a book somewhere you can read on the subject.”

“Thank you for tagging along with me.” Cerys spoke, studying a crop top she wasn’t sure was meant as a bra or what the tag actually said it was. She had a busy week ahead with her internship and she needed some new clothes to give her that extra pep in her step, yet with her father busy on one of his projects, he had no time to create her something original, so there she was, shopping for clothes and bringing along someone to drag her out of her comfort zone. She already had so many blazers with matching trousers and sweaters. “I’m awfully dreadful at this. I didn’t get the fashion genes my father possesses.” 

“Well, I”m not going to let you dress yourself.” Selena carelessly waved off any gratitude thrown in her general direction before she gently lifted the crop top from Cerys’ hands in order to put it back on the rack. “That’s not for work,” she chided, gently as she possibly could under the given circumstances. It was fair for Cerys to admit that she was dreadful at picking out clothing, but Selena wouldn’t be the one to hit the poor girl while she was down. That was something she reserved -- - or tried to reserve - -- for assistants and particularly nasty rivalries. Instead, she plucked a blouse off the rack and held it for the woman to take, “I’m surprised your dad didn’t decide to tag along. Too busy designing women’s lingerie or did you want to go this alone?”

Selena had never been particularly good at minding her own business -- - in all reality, she made it her business to keep her hands on as much gossip as possible - -- but she made an exception, for the most part, when she was out in public. Unless something happened within a certain radius, she would gladly go about her business as if nothing happened. So it was unusual that she might be in good enough spirits to take notice of something unfortunate taking place in her vicinity. Bearing an umbrella in one hand and her wallet in another meant that she couldn’t directly help a stranger when she saw something slip from a pocket or purse -- - she hadn’t been paying that much attention - -- but she did scurry the few paces to catch up to the person at a crosswalk. "You’ve dropped something. Just over there.” A beat, “I think it was you, anyway,” And another. “I’d have grabbed it for you, but my hands are full.”

Olivia sighed at a customer she was currently serving. She always made sure to give customers her very best. But for some reason this one customer was working her nerve, but of course Olivia took a deep breath before bringing her order. Once she set it down, it didn’t seem to take long for her to complain about the drink. “Well I don’t know about that, but our customers seem to like it.” she forced a grin while wiping down an area around her. “But I’d be happy to get you something but this isn’t a coffee shop so we don’t have anything fancy.” she shrugged.

It was difficult to stay angry in the face of someone who was so earnestly trying their best. Even Selena -- - unaffected and annoyed though she was - -- could only inhale sharply at the waitresses’ rebuttal. “No, no -- -” An aggravated exhale sent her fingers through blonde shocks of hair. “Actually, a cup of breakfast tea.” It would be a miracle if a small cafe could fuck up a cup of bagged tea, wouldn’t it? “I”ll pay for both, don’t worry.” There was no need in looking as if she was after a hand-out. Apologizing was off the table, but what she did instead was tap her fingers against the countertop, “I wasn’t paying attention to what you said earlier. Run it by me again.”

“Oof, rookie mistake,” Marlon grimaced, having watched the exchange from his own table nearby. Since he was the closest in proximity to the woman, he assumed she directed her comments at him. While he might as well have had “Yikes” written on his forehead for how her earlier demeanor made him grimace, Marlon decided to let bygones be bygones. After all, there was always a reason for why people acted the way they acted; maybe she was just having a particularly bad day. Truth be told she kind of scared him a little, so it was more for his sake that he wished she simply had a bad day. “You definitely don’t come here for the coffee. Unless you’re some kinda masochist.” He indicated a section of the front desk, where beautifully decorated donuts were on display. “You come here for those. Best donuts ever.” He let out a chuckle, shaking his head. “They don’t really seem to realize their donuts are what people come for, but, hey. It’s kinda part of the charm.”

Rookie mistake indeed. The specter of a smile twisted at the corners of Selena’s mouth, though it lived and died on the rim of her cup. By the time she had a chance to survey her company, she had pulled herself together enough to pretend to be interested in the selection of donuts that were recommended with unexpected eagerness. “Seems a bit early to start inhaling carbs.” The determination was made with precision, though her gaze lingered a moment longer than necessary. “I have to admit, it is tempting. You’re a regular, I take it?” Another sip of coffee had the blonde wishing she’d consulted the resident expert before placing her order, but she choked the drink down with a grimace. Caffeine was caffeine, no matter how cold.

A second glance toward the man piqued her interest, though she hid her amusement behind the rim of her cup. “I think I recognize you,” she concluded. It took a moment -- - the Rolodex of her mind whirred at top speed before falling on an approximate mental card - -- but, at length, she nodded solemnly. “You’re a musician, aren’t you? It’s...” Fuck what was his name? “... King?” It seemed close enough, for all intents and purposes, and was enough for Selena to give herself a mental pat on the back for even remembering that much. “I’ve seen you in a few pubs, I think. You’re quite talented.”

BASICS

FULL NAME: Selena Delphinium Newf NICKNAME(S): Sel is about the only one you could make of her name. AGE: 50 DATE OF BIRTH: November 2, 1978 ZODIAC SIGN: Scorpio PLACE OF BIRTH: Berkshire, England ETHNICITY: White NATIONALITY: British GENDER: Female SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Heterosexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Heteromantic RELIGION: None OCCUPATION: Owner of Arsenal FC LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: English ACCENT: Received pronunciation

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

HAIR COLOR: Dirty blonde EYE COLOR: Blue HEIGHT: 5′5″ WEIGHT: 120 lbs BUILD: Slender

PERSONALITY

POSITIVE TRAITS: adventurous, ambitious, cunning, self-assured, quick-witted NEGATIVE TRAITS:  elitist, selfish, impatient, proud, controlling FEARS: Isolation, fading into obscurity, death, poverty. HOBBIES: Drinking, hosting parties, spending money, silently judging everyone around her, dodging existential crises. QUIRKS: Jaw clenching, teeth grinding, foot tapping, rigid insistence on punctuality, associating with people she hates in order to feel superior to others. LIKES: Quality robes, owls, a good bottle of any kind of alcohol, herbal tea, mild weather, large parties, clothes, attention, lazy afternoons, pistachios, instrumental music, intelligent company, time away from the UK DISLIKES: loud children, consistent rain, the elderly, large dogs, too much time alone, nearly every news outlet

TESTS

MYERS-BRIGGS: ENTP-A “The Debater” (this cannot be right but okay) ENNEAGRAM: Type 3 - The Achiever (socially competent, self-confident, practical & driven) TEMPERAMENT: Choleric (fundamentally ambitious and leader-like; they have a lot of aggression, energy, and/or passion) HOGWARTS HOUSE: Slytherin

THIS OR THAT