Bedelia Russo's office was located in one of the quieter areas of Hell's Kitchen. She knew that when she signed the lease the isolated location may affect her business and clientele numbers in some way and it did, but only at first. Eventually she found herself with a steady income of both patients and money.
Eventually she'd formulated the perfect daily routine: Wake up at 8am, shower, dress and then stumble downstairs into her office. She would lay out the manila folders containing notes on the patients she had appointments with that day and afterwards she would make her way to the tiny corner store at the end of the block and buy two coffees. She would drink one coffee on her walk back up the block and the other in her office hile she waited for her clients. She would work through the day, all the time performing her circus act on her patients and passing it off as psychological mumbo-jumbo. All of this would be done while blocking the obnoxious activity whizzing around in her head. She had managed to happily maintain this mundane routine for about two months before it was flushed down the drain
On that day she was making her way back up to her office, finishing off one of the coffees and concentrating on blocking out the intrusive thoughts that had seemed especially loud after a busy night and lack of sleep. She had been staring into the near-empty coffee cup and muttering angrily to herself.
"Shut up, shut UP! SHU-" Her ramblings were abruptly stopped when she collided hard with another pedestrian who she hadn't seen. She fell forward, teeth biting down on her lip hard enough to draw blood. Bedelia was expecting a hard impact with the concrete, but instead she felt an arm snake around her waist and prevent the oncoming face-plant. Consequently the force of being pulled back onto her feet had winded her and she let out several loud wheezes.
"Jeez, I am so sorry!" Bedelia finally said after her lungs finally decided to their job. Before looking the person in the face she noted the spilled coffee on their pant leg. She stuttered another apology and finally met their gaze.
Only, she didn't really. The victim of her tumble was a tall man with dark hair, tinted glasses and a white cane.
Did that woman just push a blind man?
"I am REALLY sorry." It had to be at least her fourth apology, and by that point she noted that he was talking to her, but she wasn't absorbing anything he was saying. Her head was aching, swelling with thoughts that weren't her own, making it hard to refine her own.
This coffee taste like shit.
If these brats misbehave one more time I'm gonna tear my hair out.
What's up with her?
"Just take a deep breath." She pinpointed the voice and concentrated on it. She took a deep breath as instructed and suddenly things became slightly less hectic.
Is she about to have a panic attack? Her heart rate seems to be accelerating.
"Are you okay?" He asked politely. The voice in her head told her that it was genuine, that he wasn't going to rip her a new one – unlike most of New York's other citizens.
"I, uh, I – Yes." She bit back the urge to apologise again straight away and stuttered her way through an answer. "Thank you."
She mentally reprimanded herself for allowing the incident to happen, she hadn't faltered like this since the week she first moved in. It was not only embarrassing but also painful when she lost her carefully calculated composure.
"Good, I'm glad." He allowed a moment to smile at her, trying to offer some sort of detached comfort.
"I'm really sorry about that… And spilling coffee all over you. Please let me clean that up, my office is near by –"
"Its fine, I insist. I believe you're the one who got the worst of it."
There's coffee all over her blouse. She's bleeding.
It was true, a majority of the coffee had seeped into her blouse, making it somewhat transparent and she could taste the metallic liquid seeping from her inner lip. She could feel her cheeks heat up, not allowing a moment to process just how he'd known this and quickly crossed her arms over her chest. She'd need to duck upstairs before her first appointment and change, preferably soon if she didn't want to be standing around down town New York in a see-through top.
"I should, uh, probably go – I have an outstanding appointment. Please, let me pay for your dry cleaning." Bedelia was finally finding her grip and stuttering less. She was reaching toward her purse but his hand grabbed her forearm ever so slightly.
"No it's fine. Please, I should be the one to apologise."
"Well you don't have a choice about watching where you're going and I do, so I should have been." She regretted the phrasing the moment it left her mouth. She was surprised, however, when the statement was met with a light chuckle, and she wasn't sure whether it was mental or verbal.
"Yes, well there was no harm done so I –" She presumed he was about to bid farewell when he was interrupted by a loud, excitable voice.
"Matt! The real-estate lady just arrived and she said she's ready to show us the apartment." A shorter man made his way over from somewhere to their left, but he hadn't seemed to notice that he was preoccupied until he was right between the two.
"Oh." Was what he said when he noticed 'Matts' awkward expression. He turned to Bedelia and regarded her for a moment. After several seconds of looking her up and down his cheeks went a light shade of pink and he seemed to be intensely focus focusing on something just over her shoulder.
How does he do it? She's basically topless and he can't even see it.
Oh, I made it awkward.
Say something, Foggy! No one's saying anything.
"Uh…Once again, I'm really sorry about this. And thanks for not letting me break my nose on the pavement…" Bedelia muttered one last apology, giving a tiny nod to each of them before scurrying off in the direction of her office. She ignored the diluted conversation she heard as she walked away. (How do you do it, Murdock? Not even noon and there's already girls falling for you… Literally!)
Bedelia rushed up to her apartment to change out of the ruined blouse and then back down to her office – the benefits of living close to work, she quipped to herself. She could still hear the muttering thoughts that carried on beyond the walls of her office, but it became easier to ignore once indoors and away from the rush.
She sat at her desk, once again reading over her schedule for the day. She was puttering around at her desk for a few minutes, waiting for her first client to arrive when she heard a familiar chirpy voice of the real estate agent who'd been set with the task of selling the space next door. The entrance to the building separates into two stair wells, her office and apartment were on the right, and on the left was a single floor office. From what she could tell, the woman was having trouble selling it due to "The Incident" which referred to the Avengers VS Alien attack that struck New York months before Bedelia arrived.
They'd better bite. If I lower the price any further the commission will be worthless.
I can't afford to lose this. Not another one.
She chuckled to herself, but immediately reprimanded herself for the casual sadism.
She started reorganising the files on her desk, casually noting the cerebral banter carrying on next door.
Jesus, I hope he's thinking what I'm thinking. There's no way we could afford this.
Maybe we should have stuck with Landman & Zack? Sometimes he's so hard to work with.
I refuse to defend someone who isn't innocent. It's not moral.
Maybe mom was right – cutting slabs of steak would have been easier.
I need this sale. I need this paycheck.
Bedelia found it easier to tune it all out once the caffeine kicked in, and without the fatigue hanging over her shoulders she felt as if she could function normally. She heard Mrs. Stuckman, her first patient, make her way up the stairwell and Bedelia could already hear the mental chitter, most of which were depressing thoughts which were result the of postpartum depression Mrs. Stuckman was suffering. Bedelia kicked in to work mode.
At 6pm Bedelia finished filing away all of the notes from today's sessions, initiating the second half of her daily routine. She swept the floors with a broom kept in the corner coat-closet then grabbed the trash bag out of the small bin, earlier half filled with tear-soaked tissues by patient Garrett Young who's extremely neurotic. She exited the office, locked it, and made her way down the communal trash at the bottom of the stairs. She was dumping the load, focusing solely on the notes of the improvise song she was lightly humming as to distract herself from the whirring intrusive thoughts once again.
"Hi there, neighbour!" Bedelia jumped, nearly falling down the few steps she'd begun to ascend. She wasn't used to people sneaking up on her, usually if someone was going to approach her she could hear their uncensored inner-drawl from large distances away but that day she was off her game, so to speak.
She caught herself and spun around to meet the obvious new inhabitants.
One man was stocky with slicked back blonde hair and the other was taller, wearing familiar red tinted shades, gripping the forearm of his partner.
Oh, it's you.
"Oh, it's you…"
A/N
Ta-Da! Chapter one to a story that a thought up randomly today - the day before I return to school.
I didn't really list any characteristics for Bedelia because I wanted to leave her appearance up to the readers imagination, but I may still do that. I personally imagine her as mixed race, with darker features (hair, eyes, etc.)
Let me know if you want more!