AN: Hi. (waves).

Part 4:

"Can I ask you a question?"

Andy stepped out of Nigel's embrace, tipping her head to the side in question at his unusual welcome. The faint, delicious scent of Nigel's luncheon drifted out to her from the apartment door. Familiar with how he covered worry or nerves with sarcasm, she was not completely unprepared for his follow up question, "Do you have a death wish?"

Nigel had confirmed that lunch hadn't yet started when Andy called as Emily pulled the car into the single available parking space. Luckily, it was only two blocks from Nigel's apartment building and a brisk walk placed them at his door. Unfortunately, Nigel had also informed Andy that Miranda, who had originally cancelled on him, had accepted his invitation last minute.

Andy shot him a crooked grin, "A particular one doesn't come to mind right now." Andy stated wryly, "I do, however, work for Miranda so..." She shrugged self-deprecatingly. She waited, wringing her hands in the hallway while he greeted the other two women with hugs and air kisses… Well, he greeted Serena with a hug and an air kiss anyway. He offered a simple nod hello to Emily, who had crossed her arms and moved to side when Serena moved into the welcoming hug.

"Well," Nigel jibed, raising a mocking eyebrow, "here's hoping you've updated your will." He waved the trio into his apartment.

"What? Wait," Andy halted the group. "Didn't you tell her that we were stopping by?" She looked cautiously over his shoulder, as if the person in question was lurking just past the doorway.

Nigel looked at her in askance. "Are you kidding?" He asked shaking his head, "Why would I do that?"

"Maybe so she'd know that we were 'stopping by'," she emphasized the last two words.

"Andy, I like you," Nigel began, giving her shoulder a condescending pat, "But I told you that she'd be here. I did my due diligence and besides, I'd like to make it to retirement age." He said as he ushered them into the apartment.

Taking a deep breath, Andy followed the other two women into the foyer allowing Nigel to close the door. A cool inquiry met Andy as soon as she entered the living room doorway,"What are you doing here?"

By the look on her face, Miranda had been very surprised to see Andy in Nigel's apartment. Andy lowered her eyes and quickly mumbled something about taking a lunch break. The brunette swallowed hard, feeling curious eyes on her. It felt like a physical caress, and a shiver trailed down her spine. Andy cast a quick glance towards Miranda who looked back at her with a raised eyebrow. Then Miranda looked away, turning her attention more fully towards the conversations around her. Andy considered it a small miracle.

Nigel, being a good host and a smart man, immediately, took the awkwardness in stride and introduced the three to his guests. Then he began to liberally ply his guest with libation and those cute little hors d'oeuvres that cost a bunch of money but never filled you up. Andy waved off the glass of wine he offered, instead opting for water. Nigel handed her an icy bottle of Voss still water and a plate sprinkled with various bite-sized snacks. He hung around long enough to ensure that his guests were mingling properly, then slipped off to the kitchen to check on the meal.

Andy hadn't thought that Miranda would buy the excuse, but since they were summarily dismissed from the Editor's concern for the moment, she relaxed a little. Seeing the dismissal as a reprieve of sorts, Andy sat next to a middle-aged woman who introduced herself as Pauline Sedge, a freelance writer for Big Apple's Bite & A Byte, a popular New York food and tech guide blog. Andy quickly struck up an interesting conversation with the enthusiastic and energetic woman about an editorial Andy had read in the New York Mirror about green spaces in the city.

Andy's was enjoying herself. It was always interesting to speak to someone in the publishing world not directly within Miranda's dominion. Pauline as a freelancer, sort of remained in the periphery since she could pick and choose to work for whoever she wanted. It allowed for a different perspective from someone not quite so invested in Miranda. And it became obvious to Andy, at least, the third time her eyes drifted in Miranda's direction, that Andy, herself, was heavily invested in Miranda. More so even than a dedicated employee probably should be.

She observed the older woman lounging casually on a sofa. A young West Asian man with a nose piercing and blindly white teeth currently held her rare attention. Andy thought that he might have been one of Runway's newestdesigners and a being Miranda might have found worthy enough to notice. After all, he hadn't yet had the opportunity to disappoint.

Andy had never seen Miranda so at home before. Like a queen holding court surrounded by sycophants, she imbued the air around her with an air of attentive disregard. Aware of the hangers-on near but feeling safe enough to be more herself than if she had been in the office, her ease was evident in the way she had dressed down for the luncheon. Although could you really call it dressing down if the cost of what the editor was wearing could feed a small family for a week?

The clothing was both simple and attractive. A soft-looking, ochre yellow ASOS camisole wrap revealed a generous amount of cleavage and a gently worn pair of peg legged Rag & Bones capris fitted hugged her hips and lower body. A simple pair of Kate Spade heels graced her feet. Even here, Miranda was in the public eye and concessions had to be made.

During a break in conversation, Andy excused herself, and a quick request to Nigel, gave her the location of the restroom. She missed inquiring look sent their way from a woman with wildly colored hair having a conversation with an older man. Following the hallway, Andy came upon the kitchen where Miranda was inside on the phone. Andy drew up short of passing; a small smile softened Miranda's face in a way that Andy had rarely seen.

"Yes, Bobbsey," Miranda said, leaning back against the island countertop. She didn't see Andy where she had paused, listening in the doorway. "Are you having fun with your father? Really? Wonderful. And how's your sister? Well, I miss you two, as well." Andy fidgeted in the doorway, beginning to feel uncomfortable listening to the private conversation and turned to leave.

"Of course, I didn't forget. My schedule has already been cleared for next weekend." Miranda paused as she listened to what the girl had to say before replying, "No. I promise I'm free. Andrea rarely disap-" Miranda looked up surprised to see Andy in the doorway. "Andrea rarely disappoints," she finished her sentence keeping hold of Andy's eyes.

Andy stood frozen for a moment. There was an unspoken question there. Andy thought back to what she'd overheard. Miranda had promised the girls that she would have the weekend off. That was at least a dozen meetings with designers, artists, advertisers, and various staff members that would need to be cancelled or rescheduled.

Andy nodded in reply to Miranda's unspoken request. She could do that. She might not get everything done today that Miranda wanted, but Andy would make sure that the editor had a chance to be a mother to her children. When Miranda turned her attention back to the conversation with her daughter, Andy slipped away.

A short visit to the restroom later, Andy was returning to the party when she turned a corner and ran straight into the one person who always managed to throw her life into constant chaos. "Miranda!" Andy yelped in shock. She grabbed onto the other woman's waist as they tumbled to the ground, unable to prevent falling, as they literally collided in the hallway. They found themselves in a jumble of limbs with Miranda's perfume surrounding them like some delicately scented, low-lying cloud.

Andy heard a muttered expletive from beneath her and hastily slid off the soft, but surprisingly firm, form of the older woman. Miranda eased up onto one hip, drawing her legs up next to her. Her distinguished white hair fell in disarray as several strands tangled with dark mascaraed eyelashes. She hissed, curling one hand close to her chest while unconsciously running the fingers of her uninjured hand through rebellious locks until they gave into some semblance of order. Despite the situation, Andy's lips quirked up into a half smile. She couldn't help but be amused by the way that, even disheveled and possibly injured, Miranda was still concerned with appearing elegant and composed.

"Sorry, I wasn't expecting…" Andy stumbling over her words, getting up on her knees to check over the injured woman, "I'm… You… Nevermind. Just sorry."

Andy cautiously took Miranda's hand. A quick flash of pain lit darkened eyes causing the older woman to hiss again and instinctively pull back from Andy. "Easy," Andy warned, her voice soft and calm. She gently took hold of Miranda's palm with one hand and her elbow with the other. Bending the wrist gently in one direction and then the next, and slowly rotating the forearm, Andy checked for bruising or tenderness.

"Does this hurt?" she asked. Miranda stubbornly remained silent. Watching for any hint of discomfort, Andy decided that the problem was a strained tendon; probably from the other woman landing oddly during the fall. Andy had been active in sports enough during high school and college to have warranted several similar types of injuries.

It's fine," Miranda said pursing her lips in annoyance. Whether Miranda was annoyed with Andy or the injury was up in the air. Andy placed a comforting hand on Miranda's knee when Miranda withdrew from Andy's hold, but Miranda looked Andy in the eye and restated, "I'm fine."

"You will be fine, Miranda," Andy confirmed. "You just need to rest it and maybe an ice pack would help."

"Oh, and you recently earned your medical degree I suppose," Miranda snipped at her.

"No," Andy responded calmly, ignoring the sarcasm. Experience had shown her that the best way to deal with her boss at times like this was to ignore the tone of anything she said. Miranda was injured, and a hurt Miranda was never sunshine and rainbows. "I'm pretty sure that you have a sprained tendon. I've had that type of injury before and the best thing you can do for it is rest and ice and elevation. I'm mean, if you think you need to go to the emergency room, then I'll grab Emily's keys and I'll take you myself, but I really don't think it's that serious."

They were silent; watching each other for several moments before Andy's contemplation of the older woman was broken by the sound of the doorbell. She noticed that Miranda had arched an eyebrow at her and realized that she was still touching the older woman's knee. She held on a second or two longer, before pushing herself to her feet and with little thought, reaching down to unceremoniously help the other woman up as well.

"So," Andy asked, "do we need to make a trip to the ER?"

"No," Miranda replied shortly. She turned away from Andy then and continued down the hallway without another word. Apparently, Miranda was fine. Andy shook her head at the posturing and followed her boss back to the party. A niggling thought lingered that she might have not imagined the faint blush staining Miranda's cheeks.

Just as Nigel sensed the party atmosphere started breaking down, he herded the small group towards the dining room. The table which normally sat six people had been expanded to sit ten and plates were already set, filled with the chosen luncheon meal. There had probably been some sort of seating chart planned, Nigel seemed the type to like seating charts, however if there was one, Andy and Company's late and unexpected arrival had upset it. Instead, Nigel took one end of the table while Miranda took a place of honor at the other end. Everyone else sat where they wanted. Andy ended up on one side of Miranda while Emily claimed the seats on Miranda's other side for herself and Serena.

Nigel's cousin, Gretchen, who Andy remembered had been formally introduced as 'this wonderful bitch, Gretchen', grabbed the empty seat next to Andy. The woman, who appeared to be in her mid-50s, grimaced as she swallowed the last mouthful of wine in her glass before raising it to her left carelessly for Nigel for to refill.

He passed the bottle down the table to her. "So, I guess you'll be taking the couch tonight", he stated. Gretchen gave him a look as she allowed the pale gold liquid to tip over into her glass.

"Of course not, dear," she smirked. She threw a quick, "The guestroom's fine," as a rejoinder over her shoulder to him as she turned her attention towards Andy.

"Hello, Kitten," Gretchen's words slurred slightly beneath a polished London accent. Andy frowned at the insulting nickname, deciding that she really did not like Nigel's cousin. "Do you work for Miranda too?"

"The name's Andy," Andy stated firmly, nodding in affirmation. Gretchen propped her head in her hand and her elbow upon the table before continuing with her commentary. "Fascinating." She gave an idle nod in Emily's direction, "I didn't think anyone, but that one, could deal with La Priestly."

What Andy silently found 'fascinating' was that the woman's carefully coiffed and spiked hair was a color of green just shades away from what Nigel had once described to her as chartreuse: Think radioactive, darling. "I've known the woman for years now," the older woman confidently claimed unaware of Andy's thoughts, "She can be such a frigid bitch sometimes. Ever wonder if her husbands only married her for the money?"

Andy bit her tongue against her first instinctive protective retort. Miranda Priestly was notoriously difficult to work for, but still Andy took offense to the insinuation that Miranda paid for company and concluded that Nigel may not have been teasing when he introduced his cousin as a bitch. 'Wonderful bitch'? Andy scoffed internally, More like 'Wonder-Bitch'.

"I've only been her personal assistant for about six or seven months now," Andy replied curtly. Knowing that what she was thinking probably wouldn't be appropriate, she looked over to 'Wonder-Bitch' (because Andy couldn't think of her in any other way now) and instead stated, "I don't appreciate your comments, however, so you can keep them to yourself."

'Wonder-Bitch' smirked widely. "Down girl," she murmured. She quirked an artfully styled eyebrow at Andy in amusement, "No need to get your knickers in a twist. I'm just opining."

The older woman smiled at her while taking a bite of grilled rosemary chicken and Andy's eyebrow inched up in disbelief as she was given a look that was all flirt. 'Wonder-bitch' finished chewing and took another sip of wine before she wiped her mouth on a crisp, white linen napkin. "Really," 'Wonder-Bitch' huffed playfully, "it's amazing the loyalty she inspires even as she treats you all like shit."

Andy clenched her teeth down on a retort. She took a slow breath in and held it a moment before she exhaled some of the frustration. "So… what do you do again?" Andy asked trying to stay polite. She reminded herself that the woman was Nigel's cousin, and that they weren't there for a bitch fight. However, if 'Wonder-Bitch' continued her line of 'opining' any louder, Andy didn't have to guess how Emily would likely respond.

"Well," 'Wonder-Bitch' cleared her throat a moment, combing bright green strands back from her face, "I've been in publishing for much of my adult years." She continued, "And I've been successful enough to warrant the… attention of some of the editors of the largest publishing houses in the world. I mean Pearson, the RELX Group, Thomson Reuters, Bertelsmann, Wiley, and Lagadère. Elias-Clarke hasn't yet fallen to my charms..."

'Wonder-Bitch' glanced over at Miranda who was conversing jovially with Serena while Emily leaned over to catch Pauline's attention at the other end of the table, "But it will eventually, I'm sure. And it's damn near impossible not to know Miranda when you work in her world. She leaned forward to 'whisper' loudly, "I'm not her biggest fan, however."

Cool blue eyes trailed slowly from Andy's face down to her décolletage, "I've also travelled quite a bit for my job as well." She licked her lips before smiling, "Sometimes it's just for… pleasure. You should try it sometime," she whispered suggestively, leaning further forward. "Every young person should have a chance to sow their wild oats, you know?"

"I guess? Some of us aren't into that kind of thing," Andy replied shifting away from the other woman. Uncomfortable with the green-haired woman's attention. "I'm an old-fashioned kind of girl, myself," she stated in the face of the words that had been practically purred towards her. "I don't sleep around." Getting back to safer subjects, "So where have you travelled?"

"Europe, the Islands," came the bored reply accompanied by a throwaway gesture. Then, having apparently not taking the hint, she stated more excitedly, "I'd really rather talk more about you."

A derisive snort startled Andy, interrupting her response. The woman leaned around Andy, turning a sharp glare towards the woman sitting on Andy's right at the foot of the table. "Did you have something to say Miranda, or were you just clearing your sinuses?"

Miranda shook her head amusedly and placed her fork across her half empty plate. She wiped her mouth with the napkin from her lap and tossed it unconcerned onto the discarded dish.

"Clearing my sinuses, Gretchen," Miranda riposted, smirking.

Gretchen scoffed at her response, "Well, if you could be a dear, keep it down."

"Of course, I do apologize for the interruption," Miranda replied, smiling insincerely. "I understand that due in no doubt to the simple, single-minded focus of a number of philandering CEOs, whom I shall not name, falling prey to your practiced femme fatale act," she continued her softly spoken broadside, "your ability to understand a clear dismissal at face value without incontrovertible evidence has been severely limited."

"And you are a bit of a slow learner, aren't you? Easily distracted, yes?" It was obviously a rhetorical question. Nodding, Miranda pushed back from the table. Andy watched her and could see that the movement had caught the attention of others at the table as well. "Well, Andrea's a bright girl," came the pronouncement. "After all," Miranda continued, "neither Elias-Clarke, nor I, would ever hire a stupid person." The 'like yourself' was left unsaid.

Andy could feel herself flush red in embarrassment at the simple compliment. Miranda thought that she was smart. Or at least not stupid, Andy thought. She watched Miranda stand and excuse herself from the table. Andy could feel the pleased smile tugging at her lips, and she didn't 'remember' to look away from the sway of hips covered in form-fitting denim as Miranda left the room.

An obnoxious clearing of the throat reluctantly drew Andy's attention and gaze back to her tablemate. The woman was closer than before; practically sitting in Andy's lap. One arm was resting on the top rail of Andy's chair and began carding through the strands of her hair. Andy quickly shifted to face the burgeoning threat and pulled her hair out of 'Wonder-Bitch's' reach and over her far shoulder. "Can you not touch me, please," Andy bit out tersely, trying not to raise her voice.

"Oh," 'Wonder-Bitch' stated slurred with a hint of feral smirk, "you've got it bad." Wine scented breath fell across Andy's face as the woman leaned forward into Andy's personal space. Again. "You know, if you're into older women…" she whispered in what Andy assumed the woman thought was a sultry way, "I can help you with that."

"What do you say, we…" the sentence trailed off. Andy couldn't reply before she felt the woman place an unwanted hand her thigh and quickly slide her hand up towards the crotch of her jeans. A crashing silence descended as Andy pulled her stinging hand back from the woman's face and quickly put space between them.

'Wonder-Bitch' stared at her slack-jawed and opened eyed in shock at Andy. The offending hand now cradling her reddened cheek. She pursed her lips in anger and growled out, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Miranda was right. You really are a bit of a slow learner, aren't you?" Eyes around the table stared with varying levels of shock, confusion, and humor at the scene. Shaking her head in admonishment, Andy stood away from the dining room table. "Let me spell it out for you," Andy gave the reprehensible woman a look of abject disgust, "Even if I was into sleeping around," she carefully enunciated, firmly pissed off, "I wouldn't want to catch anything you have," Andy declared.

"Gretchen! Andy! Calm the fuck down," Nigel rose from his place and began walking towards them; reaching out to calm the flare up. He grabbed Gretchen's arm to pull her away from the confrontation, trying to separate the two. Neither woman paid him any attention. "Fucking Bitch!" Gretchen yelled, humiliated, "I'll fucking see your ass in jail!"

Andy scoffed and rolled her eyes at the expected, and frankly unimagined response. "Call them," she said, "I'm sure they'll want to hear about how you sexually assaulted me."

"What!" Nigel shouted over the other observer's exclamations in his upset. 'Wonder-Bitch' tried to attack Andy and was lifted away before reaching her. The woman was then hauled over Nigel's shoulder. "Andy don't go anywhere," he stated. "We need to talk." He waited until she nodded her acceptance before taking his drunk, squirming, and cursing burden down one of the hallways that Andy assumed led towards the bedrooms. The group at the table could hear a door slam and then muffled shouting.

Glancing around, Andy finally noticed that the three of them had drawn the attention of all her tablemates. Andy gave a quick apology to the others then followed Miranda's path from the room.

Still feeling the tension from her confrontation with Gretchen, Andy stepped into the kitchen. She came to a halt when she noticed Miranda occupying the area.

Blue eyes had lifted at her rushed entrance and an ice pack began to subtly shift from view. "Everything is alright I assume," Miranda stated calmly.

"How much did you hear?" Andy asked flatly, taking note of the lowering ice pack. She waved away Miranda's actions not caring about her self-imposed, invulnerable facade. "Nevermind."

"I don't have to call the police, do I?" Came the soft inquiry and the unspoken assurance that she would if Andy wanted her to.

"No." Andy nodded to herself, "I think Nigel is ensuring that the police aren't needed for this matter." Believing the subject closed, she instead asked the other woman was leaning, once again, against the island countertop, "How's your wrist?" Miranda shrugged and returned the cold pack to her injured limb. Shaking her head in a combination of frustration and amusement at the reply, Andy walked over to the cabinets nearest the sink and began opening the top ones searching for glassware.

"To your left," Miranda spoke quietly taking a guess at what Andy was looking for. Andy looked back at her over her shoulder, gaging the older woman's mood. Seeing thoughtful calmness, Andy followed her instruction.

Upon locating the shelf with Nigel's liquor tumblers, Andy pulled down two glasses. Opening the freezer, two ice cubes were cracked into each glass before Andy walking over to the patiently waiting white-haired woman. She placed the glasses on the countertop next to Miranda and studied the various bottles of liquor on display.

One night, after the January issue of Runway had finally been put to press, several of the employees had made a night of it bar hopping around Midtown West's Theatre District. Most of the night was an alcoholic-induced blur, but Andy did remember fragments of a conversation with one of Elias-Clarke's many executive personal assistants. The guy, Andy couldn't recall hearing his name, gave the group a small lesson on the various types of whiskey served at the bar.

Now, she couldn't tell the difference between scotch and bourbon, nor could she bring herself to care about whether the whiskey was single malt or single grain. She lifted a bottle of Talisker Storm. No, Andy wasn't a whiskey drinker by any means, but she remembered the brand as being incredibly smooth.

"You know," Andy began conversationally as she poured two healthy drams of the dark gold liquid, "Someone said once that the highest form of ignorance was when you rejected something you didn't know anything about." Andy offered Miranda the second glass, looking firmly into Miranda's eyes, daring her to join her.

Miranda took the glass offered her. "And what do you claim to know?"

"I know as much as the next person," she said thoughtfully, "However," Andy took a deep breath, "I'd like to think that I'm willing to learn more." Andy raised the glass high in salute, "To ignorance."

A moment hesitation later, Miranda lifted her glass as well. "To… the removal of ignorance," she replied with a smirk. Andy nodded in agreement. Lowering the glass, Miranda followed Andy in taking a companionable drink.

"I think I can guess why you're here," Miranda sighed, she curled the tumbler close to her chest.

"That sounds relatively philosophical, Miranda." Andy took another swallow before reaching over to pour another glass, "Are you implying that I'm not just here for Nige's fine and probably very expensive liquor?"

"Don't pretend you know nothing of what I'm saying, Andrea." Miranda replied, "Gretchen was as persistent as I imagine she was?"

"To an assaultive degree? Yes," Andy stated.

Miranda shook her head, "I can still call New York's finest, Andrea."

"No, Miranda," Andy sighed tiredly, "That really won't be necessary."

Brown eyes stared down blue for a long moment before Miranda finally gave in, lowering her gaze. "Fine," she bit out, "Although, it's none of my business, I am asking what happened. Please do not lie to me."

"She was too fresh with her come on," Andy said. "I let her know I was disinterested. That's what the yelling was about."

Andy almost missed the soft breath of relief. Almost. Miranda nodded briskly before turning away and starting for the kitchen door.

"Wait!" Andy called out to Miranda's retreating form. She turned to look at her. "That's it? I answer your questions, but I don't get anything in return?"

"You are my employee. You answer to me." Miranda frowned in confusion.

"Don't use the work card, Miranda. This isn't work." Andy bit her lip at her unconscious double entendre. She rushed along, "Don't we have a deal or covenant or something?"

Miranda cocked her head having caught Andy's double meaning. Her eyes flickered back to the lip that Andy was still worrying unconsciously, "A covenant? Like you made a bargain with God? Or is it the Devil you think you've made a deal with?" Miranda shook her head smirking in amusement and Andy remained silent. Miranda crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe, like she had all afternoon to deal with Andy's stubbornness.

"Well?" Miranda asked.

Andy shook her head, "I won't answer another of your questions until you answer one of mine."

"So, we're playing twenty questions?" When Andy remained silent, Miranda exhaled softly, "Or is this truth or dare?"

Andy shrugged, "Every choice in life carries consequences."

"Yes, it does," Miranda agreed.

Miranda looked at Andy intensely like she was searching for an answer to something. Andy could almost see when Miranda reached a conclusion; the small frown marring the skin of Miranda's brow smoothed out and Andy could feel the temperature drop in the room. "Well? I have to say that you are very poor at this game, Andrea. Surely, you know that?" Miranda questioned. "From my understanding this game is transactional in nature. I ask a question and you answer or pay the consequence. You ask, and then I do."

Andy shivered, her stomach tightening in reflex at the throaty tone that ran down her spine. She opened her mouth and just as suddenly paused in the act of asking a question to instead state, "I didn't know we had started."

"You know how much I love repeating myself," Miranda dead panned. "Keep up. The game is truth or dare, the limit… twenty questions."

Andy's mind whirled at the odd direction the conversation had taken. Twenty truth or dare questions? And then what? Looking into ice blue eyes that stared at her without an identifiable emotion, Andy had this crushing feeling that she might have wondered into an alternate universe when she entered the kitchen. Could Andy ask or would that count as one of the questions?

Maybe Miranda was just trying to win this 'game' through intimidation. Andy could see Miranda doing something like that. She could also see Miranda asking way too personal questions to get Andy to fold, but what about the dares? As she stated, every choice, every decision, has a consequence. And Andy supposed this was a consequence of her choices so far. Just how personal were the questions going to get? Andy wondered. Where was the line going to be drawn? There was so much Andy could learn about Miranda from Miranda herself in twenty questions. So much and still maybe not ever enough.

TBC in part 5…