Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target, or any of its characters.
Continued from Marshall Pucci, season 2 finale. This is my first time on fanfiction.
See you tomorrow Mrs. Pucci
The next morning, 8:00 am:
Chance walks down the stairs into the office. He is feeling pretty good – there is a bounce to his step as his walks past Ilsa's office; she is not in yet. He finds Winston checking his email in the conference room.
"So it looks like you did succeed in getting Ilsa to stay, after all," Winston comments, looking up from his computer.
"Oh, not really," says Chance avoiding Winston's eyes. He shrugs, and adds nonchalantly, "We didn't say much; she had cancelled her flight plans and was getting ready to go back to her apartment, when I got there." And then, quickly, he walks away before Winston can question him further.
Winston shakes his head in despair, and gets busy on his computer again.
10:30 am:
Winston and Guerrero are sitting on the couch in the lounge. Ames is in the conference room playing with her phone. By now everyone has received emails from Ilsa informing them of her decision to remain in San Francisco.
The elevator buzzer rings. Winston and Guerrero look up. The clicking sound of heels indicates Ilsa's arrival. She walks into the office with a cautious smile. She isn't sure of the reception she will receive from the team, nor has she any idea about how she is going to deal with Chance after last night. She feels both, sheepish and frustrated, about her last conversation with him.
Winston gives Ilsa a big smile and nods in approval.
Guerrero walks up to her and she hands him her computer bag. "Cool, I'll get the server configured to access all your Pucci Foundation accounts in London," he says. "It won't be hard to have a live feed to your London office."
Guerrero's welcoming tone is a relief to Ilsa. "Thank you Guerrero."
If Guerrero noticed the omission of the customary 'Mister' before his name, he showed no signs of it.
Ames comes running out of the conference room. She gives Ilsa a huge grin. She lifts her wrist slightly to show the bracelet Ilsa had given her the previous night.
"Like I said before, it's yours now Ames," Ilsa reminds her warmly. Ames beams.
The tacit approval of the team puts Ilsa at ease. She pauses and looks around before heading to her office. No sign of Chance. She walks to her office with a mix of relief and disappointment.
11:30am:
Guerrero is bent over a router, on the floor by Ilsa's desk. The elevator buzzer sounds.
Chance saunters into Ilsa's office a minute later. "Something wrong?" Chance looks down at Guerrero, hands on his hips.
"No big deal dude; boss lady needs a more secure access to her London office," mumbles Guerrero still looking down at his machine.
Ilsa sneaks up from behind. "Been busy this morning, have you?"
Chance turns to look at Ilsa. Their eyes meet, challengingly.
Chance grins, "Yes, I had some errands to run this morning." If Ilsa noticed that he was mocking her with her final words from last night, she didn't show it. He pats Ilsa on the shoulder, "Good luck with the modem connection," and starts to walk out of the room to look for Winston. "Winston said we may have a new client, where has he disappeared?"
After Chance leaves Guerrero looks up at Ilsa. "I am going to need the company credit card for a day."
Ilsa is taken aback. "I thought cash was king! When did you start using a credit card?"
In a sarcastic tone Guerrero replies, "When I figured my Eldo needs to be replaced, and with your dough!"
Ilsa smiles, "I guess that's fair; you did destroy it on-the-job."
6:00pm
Ilsa gets up from her chair and shuts down a couple of laptops on her desk. As she starts packing up to leave Chance walks into her office. Rather than stand across from her at her desk, he saunters to her side of the desk and leans against it, not far from her.
"So partner, all going well with the connection to your London office?" Chance asks, folding his arms around his chest in a relaxed manner.
Ilsa looks up at him. It was obvious Chance was offering some kind of olive-branch – he didn't want any confrontation, or any awkwardness.
She stares at him for another minute and then smiles. She picks up her bag, walks up to him and pats him on the shoulder.
"Yes Chance, It's all under control." And with a slight wink, she marches off to the elevator.
