Air got sucked out of the room. She knew immediately who was standing behind her. Even before she smelled her unique scent, a mixture of her with an unknown perfume – definitely unknown, she knew due to spending endless hours in parfumeshops. Smelling the different scents, looking for just a glimpse of comfort. Looking for that one part she could buy (no matter how much it would cost, she would have bought it) to have a little piece of Miranda for her own. To treasure, even if it was only to put in a box underneath her bed. She needed something she could touch, something that proofed that it had not been only her mind, her misinterpretations. Proof that no matter how lonely she felt, a little part of Miranda would be there to comfort her. Even if it wasn't Miranda at all. In the end she didn't know if she was more delusioned by not finding it, or more relieved that no one could accidently buy the same perfume as The Ice Queen.
'Spending you're time for charity I see.' Her light words, thrown with the sharpness of a knife cut through the air.
Andy turned around, unsurprised, smiling politely. 'Such a delight. The way you effortlessly replace air with venom. I dare almost say I missed it.' No. but I missed you. She thought.
Piercing blue eyes. Of course Miranda hadn't expected this kind of answer. No one stood up to the her, especially not an former assistant with a bad record because of leaving at the most vulnerable moment. A little anger slipped through her look, expectantly fast replaced with the usual mark of boredom.
'Well, one probably has a hard time breathing in this…' she waved her hand, 'pity excuse for an office.'
It was a small space with 4 desks where they were standing, stuffed with papers and computers. One side of the room contained windows, so it was quite light, though Andrea would admit, a bit dusty. 'Luckily for you the amount of useful information doesn't correlate with the emptiness of an office, otherwise Runway would be destroyed by the end of the year.'
Miranda raised an Eyebrow. It was an insult, definitely, but she was used to be insulted. Well, not really out loud, but part of being Editor in Chief was that she had ears everywhere. She had heard worse things. Deciding to ignore the offending tone in the reply she changed subject.
'Emily, show the bags.' A skinny, not-at-all looking-like-Emily dark haired girl stepped from behind Miranda. She had dull eyes and something nervous around her. Like a mouse permanently searching the surrounding for danger. Probably a right thing to do around Miranda Priestly. The girls hands were full with what seemed like 10 or 12 Louis Vuitton bags.
Definitely choosing the skinny, dumb girls again. I must have been a real disappointment.
The girl dropped the bags at the already full desk, which made it look like Miranda had walked by several times without collecting her bag on the way out. Andrea noticed though, that the leather was a bit less supple than she had seen before, and the stiches where… odd. Not high fashionably new season like odd, but more: almost perfect odd. Almost. They're fake ones. Louis Vuitton had perfectness as his life-motto, so did Miranda except for the fact that she already was perfect to begin with, it would not have been possible that stitches like those were made on a real LV bag. So the question was: why would Miranda have fake Louis Vuitton bags, and secondly, why on earth would she bring them to Andrea, since a) she didn't work for Runway anymore b) she wasn't known to be a 'natural' with fashion and c) Miranda hadn't spoken to her in almost a year, and despised Andrea even more than insects and anti-fur demonstrators.
'My Christmas bonus?' she joked lamely.
'Find out where they are from, or rather whó they're from, why I get them and what they want. That's all.' Miranda turned around and began walking through the door. Her mouse following her.
'Wait, what?!' Wrong beginning of your sentence! A question ánd a demand. After you insulted her. You certainly lost your brain together with your phone in the fountain. 'I mean… do enlighten me… please. On this delicate matter with fake LV bags that apparently are a problem of some sorts to Runway, and why I, who work no lónger for Runway but for the Mirror (she emphasized that fact), need to be involved?' Great. So much for the kindness…
Miranda stopped walking. But did not turn around. A soft sigh of annoyance crossed the room. 'Because you. owe. me.' And with that said she disappeared.
