Challenge from challenge in a can:
Lilah
sombre
can of soda
~~~~~
Spoilers: anything up to 'deep down'
~~~~~
Nauseous
~~~~~
Lilah sips her drink, the comforting taste soothing her somewhat rattled nerves. Not that she would ever admit to that, of course. Wolfram & Hart lawyers never admit, or even dare to presume the existence of, any form of discontent. Not considered 'good company policy'. Policy her ass, it's just plain common sense. Sense to never let them see your fear, see what you really think, really feel. Nobody's seen that side of her for a long time.
Another swallow, and this time she takes the time to steal the briefest of glances around the room she's commandeered a section of for tonight's solitary vigil. It needn't be solitary, of course, but she doesn't think that she could face Wesley right now. Not after what she just did. The way his head...
Not that she cares, because sombre mood be damned, she absolutely despised that vile man. Not that she didn't admire him though, because he was everything she aspires to be, only more stupid than she ever has or ever will be. For Jesus' sweet sake, did Linwood really think that she would go quietly into the night? Was he really that dumb?
Stupid question really, seeing as he puts up with Gavin Park, all day, every day. God, she'd like to hurt him. Cut him up into real small pieces, and then... what? She's forgotten what she was saying, because she's just noticed that she's got no drink to nurse, and that's not allowed. Wolfram & Hart lawyers are never without a ready-to-hand drink. It's another one of the rules.
Glass refilled, she looks up, casting yet another cursory glance around the room. She's learnt over the years that pretending to care about the pathetic, scurrying creatures who only get in her way ultimately will get her further than sulking, solitary, at a table and soliloquising on the lack of meaning around her. Maybe she should pass that gem of wisdom onto a few people...
Because, as she takes her last mouthful of reassuringly liver-destroying liquid, she realises that there lies the difference, the line between the leaders and the lead. Those who understand the world... and those who don't. Those who savour the cocktails, who run this place, and those who skulk in the sunshine with their cans of soda, innocent and sweet.
It makes her nauseous.
Lilah
sombre
can of soda
~~~~~
Spoilers: anything up to 'deep down'
~~~~~
Nauseous
~~~~~
Lilah sips her drink, the comforting taste soothing her somewhat rattled nerves. Not that she would ever admit to that, of course. Wolfram & Hart lawyers never admit, or even dare to presume the existence of, any form of discontent. Not considered 'good company policy'. Policy her ass, it's just plain common sense. Sense to never let them see your fear, see what you really think, really feel. Nobody's seen that side of her for a long time.
Another swallow, and this time she takes the time to steal the briefest of glances around the room she's commandeered a section of for tonight's solitary vigil. It needn't be solitary, of course, but she doesn't think that she could face Wesley right now. Not after what she just did. The way his head...
Not that she cares, because sombre mood be damned, she absolutely despised that vile man. Not that she didn't admire him though, because he was everything she aspires to be, only more stupid than she ever has or ever will be. For Jesus' sweet sake, did Linwood really think that she would go quietly into the night? Was he really that dumb?
Stupid question really, seeing as he puts up with Gavin Park, all day, every day. God, she'd like to hurt him. Cut him up into real small pieces, and then... what? She's forgotten what she was saying, because she's just noticed that she's got no drink to nurse, and that's not allowed. Wolfram & Hart lawyers are never without a ready-to-hand drink. It's another one of the rules.
Glass refilled, she looks up, casting yet another cursory glance around the room. She's learnt over the years that pretending to care about the pathetic, scurrying creatures who only get in her way ultimately will get her further than sulking, solitary, at a table and soliloquising on the lack of meaning around her. Maybe she should pass that gem of wisdom onto a few people...
Because, as she takes her last mouthful of reassuringly liver-destroying liquid, she realises that there lies the difference, the line between the leaders and the lead. Those who understand the world... and those who don't. Those who savour the cocktails, who run this place, and those who skulk in the sunshine with their cans of soda, innocent and sweet.
It makes her nauseous.