VENOM ( moon knight.. ) ✔

001 | Pressure of Work Positivity..

Clara walked in front of a mirror and for the first time thought she caught a glimpse of an alternate reality into it.

There she was. Skin clean, hair luscious, eyes far less tired than yesterday and her supple figure pampered into a full suit, not the combat type, but rather the formal one, ironed to a line that very morning and smelling of her lavender washing machine capsules. The white shirt buttoned up to the very top under her suit's jacket was spotless, while that jacket matched the pants in perfect gray.

"How do we look?" Wide eyed, she asked Venom for confirmation on what she was rather scared to voice herself. Clara looked perfectly ordinary, like she'd get the suitcase with the money and actually walk out that door to head for a stable job, in an office which respects her and her input, at least on paper. She looked her age and most importantly, she looked like she had her life together, like those tame heels in her feet will be proposing an empowering sound as they walk down any road.

"One final touch," Venom hummed and with care to not disturb the neatness of her outfit, he slithered an arm out the back of her neck, sending it across the bedroom which, behind her, was formed out of a mess, especially on the bed where piled laid four more outfits, proof that at some point in the morning, Clara even considered wearing a skirt to this meeting with her sister's faculty in charge of her expulsion from the course. As soon as she made the appointment and saw the skirt, she changed her mind and went for pants.

Venom did not mind the mess at all. He went to the drawers on the other side of the bed and returned to Clara holding up in front of her face a little bag of make-up.

"I can do the lipstick while you do the rest and we'll be done faster."

Venom may not have always gotten the finesse subtext -like how when someone asks you how they look and your immediate answer is bringing them make-up may come off as concerning to them-, but his heart was always in the right place, something remarkable for a sentient being with no such thing. So Clara just smiled and agreed to the plan.

It was a true wonder what a bit of red lipstick and eyeliner could do to a face.

"We look like we could walk into a bank and no one would assume we are there to rob it," Venom pointed out gleefully only as they stepped out of the apartment building. Clara still remembered vividly the last encounter she's had with Marc, hence why she threw a fugitive glance to the side, where he had waited for her the other day to return that phone which was now in her pocket, untouched and undisturbed since yesterday.

She'd be lying if she said she wasn't wondering at all whether or not Marc actually took the hint to leave the city or not. But since no one will be asking her about this any time soon, she could afford completely ignoring her curiosities and hurrying to rejoin society with the most banal thing a human could do: use the public transport.

Of course, that motorcycle of hers could have gotten her to the meeting far faster, but she was not running out of time, nor was she willing to let the wind mess her hair up on that day just because the helmet had been tossed and lost somewhere in DC. So the public transport had to do and for the most part, taking away the abundance of peculiar scents and irritatingly loud people, Venom provided just enough entertainment to make it all enjoyable.

It was quite amusing to have a voice in your head when those voices were groaning about how the old lady who was quietly sitting in front of you would have the most delicious brain, but the teenager rudely listening to music without headphones definitely had good lungs, but a bitter liver.

These harmless shenanigans have managed to confer her the charming smile with which she greeted the front desk of the building whose address she was given over the phone. They gave her a visitor badge and coldness in return. "Take a seat in the next room, first on the right down that hallway, and please wait to be called in the office, Miss Carita," a lifeless worker directed her.