A Rose By Any Other Name || Clexa AU

1 - Clarke: We Can't All Live A Life Of Licking Tacos All Night

She was late already, like every other day this week. So far, Clarke's first week at Interpol wasn't going so great. A brand spanking new Agent and she couldn't even manage to show up at work in time.

Her hair was in a tussle and she wasn't even sure if her formal coat was the right side out, but nevertheless, Clarke stumbled out of her apartment, trying to fumble on her black heel. She already knew today was going to suck.

Her new boss at Interpol seemed like an asshole, and nothing like her old boss at the FBI. Not to mention she only moved to France three weeks ago in preparation for her new job as an Agent, and her coordination of the streets was less than immaculate.

Clarke's French wasn't in tip-top shape either but she knew enough to get around but not enough to seem like a local, or even a half educated tourist for that matter. She stumbled onto the busy streets of Lyon with her briefcase tucked under her one arm, and her phone pressed to her ear by her shoulder while the other hand tried to signal down a cab.

Her first three attempts to signal down a cab weren't successful but on the fourth, a taxi finally stopped. "Interpol, please." She says, clumsily getting into the cab. The man nodded his head, before looking over his shoulder to enter the busy streets again.

The phone remained pressed to Clarke's ear as she tried to straighten herself out a bit more and thankfully by the fourth ring, Raven finally picks up. "Hi, Raven? I'm going to be a tad late; can you cover for me? Also, please get me something to eat? Thanks, love you, bye!"

Clarke dropped the phone from her shoulder onto the seat, buttoning the remaining few buttons on her blouse once she realizes that her taxi driver was less than conspicuously staring in his rearview mirror at her cleavage spilling out.

With a clear of her throat, the man returned his gaze to the road in front of him, a slight blush on cheeks from being caught. Clearly, France wasn't any different from New York, especially not the taxi drivers. For the first time, Clarke looked around her, noticing a slight tear on the seat her briefcase laid on and a black smudge on the lining of the roof. Yuck. Even the interior of the cab itself smelled musty.

She definitely needed to get her own car, and fast. The taxi life wasn't for her. Not in New York, and definitely not here either.

Traffic wasn't as frustrating since she was used to the busy streets of Manhattan, but it certainly didn't do any wonders for her already stressed self because she was already late to her new job, again. The only three upsides to this new job was its location, the exposure to more complex cases, and last but not the least, that her best friend Raven was the newest addition to the cyber department.

Once they stop in front of the gate that leads to the Interpol building and Clarke finally compiled an almost reasonable excuse for being late in case she stumbles into her boss, she grabs her briefcase and hands the taxi driver ten euros, and steps out onto the quiet street.

After successfully dodging a few deep gaps in the paving leading up to the gates, she flashed her badge to the guard on duty and strolled to the large, almost fully tinted glass building while firmly holding onto her briefcase in one hand and her phone in the other. The Interpol insignia sat proudly on top of the entrance of the doors with "Interpol" largely written above it.

Three male agents in formal suits exited the building, the third holding the door open for her. She didn't know their names, and she was pretty sure she hadn't even seen them before. Clarke was convinced the headquarters of Interpol consisted of hundreds if not maybe a thousand offices in the entirety of the building. 

The place was insanely big and she patiently awaited the day she would inevitably get so lost inside of it that she would have to call someone to come fetch her.