[Bossman] Fur et mago

[Mackenzie (DELETED 8346)]

Mackenzie scrubbed at her face, the pressure of calloused fingertips drawing red lines across her wet skin. When she glanced up at her reflection, the little makeup she’d put on that morning was smeared under her eyes. “****,” she mumbled under her breath, reaching for the soap dispenser and bending over the sink a second time. When she looked up once again, the dark streaks of mascara were gone and her eyes stung. For many seconds, she stared at the pale creature looking back at her. The dark circles beneath her eyes were more noticeable now, a side effect of days gone by without feeding. With a resigned sigh, the blood thief reached for the paper towels and turned her back to her reflection.

Grabbing two mugs of pipping hot coffee on her way back to her assigned desk, Mackenzie reminded herself to maintain proper posture in spite of the physical weariness she felt. There were still a few hours left to her shift, even if the majority of Monarch Media’s staff had gone home for the day. A glance outside the oversized windows lining both sides of the open-plan office revealed the sun to be hanging low on the horizon; the days were getting noticeably shorter.

Winter is coming.

Setting one mug down on her desk in transit, she moved towards the glass door that’d been closed most of the day. Mackenzie let herself in with a cursory knock, cocking a brow at the man she’d only just begun working for. A sorcerer he’d said, but he sure didn’t look like it. A glance about the large office revealed nothing — no pointy hats, no heavy-set leather-bound tomes, no sacrificial altar. Maybe she’d been duped? After all, it wasn’t the first time she’d been tracked online.

“You look a lot like a muggle for a sorcerer,” she said, setting the mug down on his desk. “I’m not sure what a sorcerer is supposed to look like, but you sure as hell aren’t what I had in mind.”

[Lincoln King]

Lincoln King was a busy man, by his own choice for the most part. Today had been no exception and he'd found himself largely locked behind his desk making calls, or strolling in circles around the office just to give himself a break from the monotony of it all. This wasn't the kind of day he enjoyed, he'd planned the office so that he got to spend a lot of time moving around, checking in with his staff and creating an open environment that fuelled creativity within a professional setting. When it came to creating media campaigns you needed a certain sense of freedom, the ability to stretch the limits of your imagination in an environment that promoted and nurtured that ability. It was usually a fairly fun place to work, not always so much if you were the boss or his right-hand person. His office manager came through the door just as he was finishing writing up an email reply to a new client, they'd secured a number of them in the past weeks and this initial stage was always a real circus act. You had to woo clients, to convince them that you understand their needs are not only willing to meet those needs but able to and Lincoln had declared his business to be both. The smell of the coffee seemed to rouse him more than the soft tap at his office door, his head raising along with a single brow to view Mackenzie making her way in.

There was a touch of curiousity in his expression, just the slightest hint of it as she began to speak, waxing lyrical about sorcerers and muggles in a way that had his lips quirking up at the left corner; apparently Mackenzie watched or read too much Harry Potter, a fact he noted and locked away somewhere in the vault that was his mind. "Black?" Was all he said initially, leaning over to peer into the cup she'd placed upon his desk as if it might be a bomb. "If you keep this up I might propose, then be bitterly disappointed when you inevitably turn me down. Life is cruel..." He made a woe is me face, hand moving to stretch fingers against his chest where his heart beat a steady rhythm beneath. Lincoln let it linger a few moments before reaching for the mug, cradling it against his palm and lifting it towards his lips. It was how he liked it, dark roasted coffee that had a heaviness to the texture, cut through by the tiniest touch of sweetness, raw sugar stirred in at just the right moment. "Anyone who so quickly remembers how I like my coffee must have their own magic. Tell me, Mack, how exactly do you think a sorcerer SHOULD look?" There that brow went, quirking up again as he studied her features, noting how tired she herself looked. It seemed to dawn him all of a sudden that she had been looking progressively more exhausted over the past few days he'd seen her, flicking through the mental snapshots that he couldn't help but hold in his mind. Her smile seemed more strained like it was an after thought that she had to conjure to achieve the expression.

"Wait...Is the coffee a bribe so you can go home, Mack?" He spoke hesitantly, cradling it closer as if it might be snatched away if he was not compliant.

[Mackenzie (DELETED 8346)]

Tiredness in Mackenzie was usually accompanied by moodiness, but something had changed since she’d taken up he consumption of vampire blood. The weariness she felt was far from agreeable, but it was so much better than it had once been. Perspective kept her from being miserable. After all, chemotherapy had led to months’ worth of bone-deep exhaustion that made her current tiredness pale in comparison.

Raking her fingers through her hair, she took a step back from his desk as he inspected and reached for the coffee. Though his words did amuse her and she physically indulged in her amusement, there was something about her expression that was off, like an ill-placed mask that didn’t quite fit.

“It’s not, no. I’m gonna finish up the docs for McKinnon, Hoffman, and Partners so that they’re ready to send out first thing in the morning,” she said, casting a glance across his desk. “Is there anything else you need me to do before I hassle you about sorcery, which I might add you brought entirely upon yourself?”

[Lincoln King]

The coffee was good, he felt it warming his insides and bringing that instant reminder of the effects the caffeine would have over the next twenty minutes that had him sitting up, more alert. He watched her expression shift, his words breaking through to make her try for amusement but it fell short. Was he overworking her? No, she got to make her own hours for the most part, while she did put in more than most of the other staff she knew that if she needed personal time that she could take it if things were under control; perks of the job and all that. Lincoln was all about life balance, he worked under the theory that people needed to love what they did and where they worked. He wanted to make this workplace somewhere that people looked forward to coming to, it made them more willing to fight to keep it and work that little bit harder. Thus far it had been a successful model, so he decided it was probably something else going on.

"Sounds extremely boring, thank you for being on top of it. Actually, I was just trying to finish up here myself." A smile quirked his lips up, accompanied by a self-deprecating little laugh and shake of the head that showed he knew exactly what she was referring to. "Ah, that. Yeah it was my fault, just this once I'll concede. Going to grill me here or do I get to escape my glass prison?" He looked up at her hopefully.

[Mackenzie (DELETED 8346)]

“We can talk over dinner. It’s the least you can do for snooping into my private life,” she replied, sparing a thought to the coffee mug at her desk that would surely replace a meal were she to stay here much longer. The documents she had to do were not urgent per say, but she truly would prefer to have nothing but an sealed envelope waiting for delivery on her desk than a pile of papers left to organise. “Although it will take me at most a quarter of an hour to finish the paperwork----”

Cheekiness was one of her most endearing traits, though it did little to pad her victims from the full force of her bluntness. If there was an office culture where women were meant to take up less space than their male coworkers and apologise more readily, Mackenzie might as well be a foreigner.

[Lincoln King]

"Dinner..." The word was accompanied by a simple raise of the brows, the slightest twitch at the corners of his mouth as he looked over as if thoroughly considering the merits of agreeing to such a thing. They both knew he'd say yes, that the pair of them could do with a good feed and should be getting out of the office before they ended up here until midnight and back around seven. "Finish up. I'll make reservations somewhere; gives me time to make myself pretty." It was a dismissal of sorts, his head tilting back to his work, sipping at the coffee and snatching up his phone. A quick scroll through to find the number of a restaurant he liked, quiet, good food and atmosphere, with a private table that might just be free for their little chat.

It was almost fifteen minutes on the dot when he went to find her, already having finished off as much as he could for the night, splashed his face with water and run fingers quickly through his hair to keep the dark blonde strands in order. His coat was on, keys in hand as he looked around for his employee, eager to get out now that it seemed so near.

[Mackenzie (DELETED 8346)]

Before the cancer, Mackenzie might have allowed doubt to ripple through her following such boldness. Staring death in the face and dealing with her own mortality however had shifted her perspective on these matters considerably.

Full lips stretched into a closed-mouth smile at the peaceable dismissal.
Tired from a long’s day work, she was economic in her movements and nodded once before turning on her heel. There was no need to discuss it any further. Lincoln King was a gregarious fellow and a successful businessman accustomed to lunch meetings; he’d have better taste in restaurants than she had. For months — nay, over a year — Mackenzie had found little to no interest in food, and as such was a poor resource.

The promise of food made her stomach twist uncomfortably. To tame it, she took a sip of her coffee before turning her attention to the task at hand. Half the mug was gone by the time she sealed the envelopes, tongue leaving a yellowish trail of spit along the seal. Her nose scrunched up in disgust.

With nothing but the dusted computer screen, a dying cactus in a glass bowl, and the neatly stacked envelopes at the centre, Mackenzie stepped away from her desktop. The mug was rinsed out and left to dry on the rack in the staff kitchen before she returned to her desk for her coat and dining companion.

As she slipped her hands into the deep pockets, her motorcycle keys jingled.

“Where are we going and who’s driving?”

[Lincoln King]

The left side of his mouth quirked up, pale green eyes focusing on the woman as she made her way towards him. No small talk, it really wasn't her style and he appreciated that. It was all straight shooting, direct questions and requests. Navigating social interactions with Mack could be a breeze or a nightmare, depending on her mood and how willing Lincoln was to get down to the nitty-gritty. At work it was great, she was just what he needed most days to keep things running, but socialising and discussing personal matters? The young King wasn't entirely sure he was prepared. Talking about himself rarely ended well, talking about his family and his past only seemed to bring trouble or a less patient personality to emerge.

"We're going to a restaurant a few blocks away, amazing chef, and an intimate setting. I asked for a quiet table, so we can talk." His keys were already in hand, he lifted them to make the message clear, "I'll drive, Mack, I bet you'd be a hellion behind the wheel." Lincoln chuckled quietly, taking a few steps back towards the elevator, still holding the keys up as if in challenge. Maybe she was in the mood to prove him wrong? He wouldn't put anything outside the realm of possibility, not where Mackenzie was involved.

[Mackenzie (DELETED 8346)]

At the remark, Mackenzie mustered a half-hearted shrug. The innocent air about her was not believable in the slightest, but that was somewhat intended. Full lips curved into a subtle grin that spoke of great mischief, and her tongue darted to moisten them before she warranted his assumption with a reply.

“Can’t blame me for having a wild side. I mean look at how tidy my desk is—I’d be committed if that were the standard I live by all the time.” The blood thief lifted her brows as she cast a glance to her workspace, the state she left it in each night a statement to her, at times, insufferable efficiency. Turning her heel, she chuckled at her own expense, and followed him to the elevator.“But reckless driving becomes far less intimidating once you’ve wandered the sewers in this city,” she smiled then, glancing up at the digital countdown atop the sleek metal doorframe.

“Do you ride?”

[Lincoln King]

Lincoln watched with interest as that grin slowly rolled across her lips, a flash of pink parting them in a manner that had his brows going up. There was no doubt in his mind that she was capable of getting up to all sorts of trouble if the mood struck her. Her teasing put him somewhat at ease, their banter made the office a happier place and part of the reason he'd hired her was that rapport. "I'm not sure I can see you as a sewer rat, but I know what you mean. I've spent a lot of time stalking the dark and dreary places of HR, they are some of the best places to practice my skills." Linc admitted, stepping into the elevator and pressing the button to take them down to the ground floor.

Her follow-up question distracted him from staring at the numbers tick down, shooting her an incredulous look that accompanied the delicate scoffing sound that left him. "Ride? You're gonna have to be more specific, sweetheart, i've ridden a LOT of things in my life. Motorcycles? Not so much, but i've given it a shot." His body had, at the very least. Kingsley liked to go fast, and on more than one occasion he'd liberated a bike. Lincoln personally preferred his car, a cherry red convertible or the more subtle, sleek black machine he preferred for city driving.