#you-look-rather-dashing

@you-look-rather-dashing

The office before her was austere and clean, modern at every angle and gleaming in the sunlight of Downtown LA. It was a remote office— Not the usual headquarters — So Jessica had been lucky when she’d heard the woman was in. She’d been waiting months for just the confirmation of an appointment of interest—

Clearing her throat she approached the double doors, drawing her hand back sharply when they opened in front of her to a gleaming, well-maintained office space. The receptionist didn’t even glance up, and Jessica’s heart rate seemed to bump up slightly.

Shuffling her briefcase she moved forward as she cleared her throat,

“Excuse me—“

“Yes?” No eye contact. Just a brunette looking down at a flat screen with names and numbers. Jessica tried to peer over it to see if she was even on there, but a well-manicured hand slid over it as the brunette finally looked up, a dull but forced smile on her face:

“May I help you?”

Every word was firmly polite, and Jessica fought the urge to frown. Her face tightened as she smiled and shifted her case forward,

“I’m Mrs. Rabbit— Here about Toontown.”

The woman’s eyes flickered some interest, and she opened her mouth to ask,

“Marv-“

“That’s need-to-know, thank you.”

A single, perfect brow and Jessica swallowed hard. She could do this! She was going to press forward, make a case—

And then what? Acme was dead. Toontown was Toon Owned now. But— Little details… Little things had been collapsing. Acme hadn’t really calculated for the long-term effects, and someone strange had been moving in and taking things away. Not so much as one would notice immediately, but enough that it was beginning to build up— Ink around the edges, if you would…

Someone had told her Mirage could help.

How could the prince do this! How could he turn away Charlotte LaBouff of all people! There were plenty of other girls at the ball the prince could have grabbed and decided she was maybe the one, but the most important was Charlotte! 

Of course, these thoughts weren’t typical of Lottie. Usually, Lottie is very kind and understanding (if a little sassy), but this wasn’t typical Lottie. This was martini-fueled Lottie. Two down, and she was already moping and whining about the prince (she’s a lightweight).

Goodness, how long had it been since this happened? Ten minutes ago? That’s when they met, if she remembered correctly. Upon seeing that the prince had, in fact, not fallen in love with her, she had immediately gone to the closest place that had drinks and ordered herself a martini, having no regard for whomever sat next to her. 

“Oooooh, it’s not fair!” Whined Lottie after her first drink, “Why could the prince choose her over me? Sure she’s pretty, but what else is there! I’m perfect for the prince!”

She wasn’t whining to anyone in particular, but hey, if they’d listen, she’d happily mope about. The poor person that next to her probably didn’t want to hear this.

If it weren’t for the fashion, Cruella would never set foot in France. Nothing about it appealed, and it certainly didn’t accommodate her unusual ways. The cars and their drivers were not fast enough, nor daring enough to get her anywhere on time; the food was too creamy and altogether lacking in pepper; and the people were disgracefully rude. While there was irony there, Cruella could not see it.

However, the fashion alone could tempt the heiress, and bring her, scowling, to a place she professed to hate. Paris. As she slid critically through the elegant boutiques, she idly wished for France to come to her, not that other way around. It was awfully vulgar, having to pace through these horrible streets, but it would all be worth it for the right item. 

“Thanks, Linda! Have a good one!...And cut back on all that wasabi! It’ll give you heartburn!” Wasabi shouted as one of the regulars left the restaurant’s doors. 

Wasabi hummed lightly to himself as he tidied up his workstation from the previous sushi order. His soaked his bamboo rolling mat, set his knives in the sink to be washed, and threw away the empty packages. Once he had completed these steps, he brought out the sanitation bucket and the rag to wipe down the entire counter. He walked over to the trash can, pulled off his latex gloves, and dropped them into the bucket.  Since the sushi restaurant was pretty empty, seeing as it was getting close to closing time, his light humming turned into more of a soft singing as he sang his latest jam to himself:  “Iiii keep goin’ to the river to pray. Cause I neeeed something that can wash all the pain. And aaaat most, I’m sleeping all these demons away...”