Meaner than Hitler

Willie <3

If there was a hole within a fifty feet radius that he could crawl hide in?  Kurt would have unabashedly jumped in without a  second thought.  Alas, there wasn’t one and he was stuck standing there looking at this woman he both admired because of her attention to detail and how far her name reached or feared because of the same reasons.  And that look of throwing daggers didn’t help calm his already frazzled nerves. Trying not to be too insulted by her instant dismissal of him and failing, he bit into his tongue so hard to keep impulsive sassy backtalk in check (regardless of his nerves, talking down to him was a trigger that could go off at any time). “Almost a month..,” a hint of sarcasm slipped in on accident, “I promise that it’s been long enough for me to know how to take a message..” Oops.  Teeny splash of sassitude.  Dammit!

She had seen a million interns & assistants, coming into fashion magazines with a big Devil Wears Prada-esque dream in their head, it took something big for her to actually take them seriously. “That’s not a bad thing. We all started somewhere. Plus there are perks. Invites to parties and mixers. Like the one last night. Did you go?” She (almost) sounded genuinely interested. “Lots of opportunities to hop up the fashion ladder.”

“Noted.” Marc practically threw the hideous article down and keenly stood by Wilhelmina’s side, an excited gleam in his eye. “So, what’s the plan? Daniel is practically untouchable these days thanks to the snuffleupagus. ”

“Snuf- For God’s sake Marc, speak English.” Wilhelmina said, frowning at her second-in-command.  “Still, you have a point. As long as Betty is around to fix Daniel’s mistakes, we’ll never find a way in. So we are going to find a way to make her stop being an issue. ”

Oh God!  Someone kill him?!  Kurt recognized the woman the second she stepped into Isabelle’s office.  If Wilhemina Slater was at Vogue.com’s headquarters? Cookies and conversation were not on the menu.  Someone pissed her off.  And Isabelle..conveniently went to lunch fifteen minutes ago. Kurt stared at the woman with a look made up of ‘shock and awe’.  The military attack term didn’t feel too far off from what he felt trapped in if he really thought about it. “Ms. Slater?  Ms. Wright stepped out and..”  Don’t make eye contact!  Crap!  “I-I’m Kurt?  Can I help you?”  Why’d he ask?!?!

“I very much doubt it,” she said, looking him up and down, already wishing she had just sent Marc to have this talk rather than boring herself with it. “How long have you been working here?”

“Hah, I’ll tell her it’s from the new Winter collection. It’ll be like the Emperor’s New Clothes except hilarious and       with less Betty-nudity. Anyway, you called? ”

“Please never use the words Betty and nudity in the same sentence again. If I ate breakfast it would be  on the floor right now. And yes, put that thing down. We                        have work to do.”

                                                   I’m here,                                                   I’m queer                                and I’m eating your pastries.

          “I know. I’m thinking of giving it to Betty for Christmas.”

“Marc. That’s cruel. I love it. And       knowing her... so will she.”

❝Actually, baby doll, an Ecuadorian billionaire bought it for me, if you know what I mean.❞ of course, she was referring to the fact that she had stolen his credit card information and was buying stolen items to have them shipped to her studio apartment.

''Ecuadorian billionaires are so much more generous than I remember.''' she smirks slightly. Well, she could hardly judge what with everything she had done in her life.  It'd be pretty hypocritical. 

❝That’s real fur? Oh, G- Uh, well, no that’s not…I mean that’s not good either. But this is about homelessness. ❞ 

''Of course it's real. Who the hell do you think I am? And well actually I don't have any specific issues with the homeless. Except their unfortunate taste in clothes.'' 

❝What’s not to love about this sleek white dress? It clings right to my  perfect figure. Makes me wonder if you have any real hair underneath there. I remember what the tabloids were saying.❞

''It looks like you bought it at a ...mall. And yes, that I wear wigs made of orphan hair. One of the more creative rumours. I'll admit I actually kind of enjoyed that one.'' 

❝Sure. If that’s the case, I would have changed my fashion habits already, don’t you think? Since we’re givin’ tips here, I know for sure I could give you a few on that hair of yours.❞

''Mmm, perhaps I'm just hoping that with enough persuasion I could influence you into dressing a little better. And you are not allowed to touch my hair. It cost more than your house.''