➽ 36. ❛ can't stand it, backhanded , they wanna see us fallin' apart, you know that i love you, so let me into you, let me into your heart, do you really love me? ❜ — me and your mama, childish gambino
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➽ KISS COUNT: 5/5 ▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃
DUE TO THE speculated on-purpose deaths of two producers from Ensemble square rising severe surface on the media, there's a significant decrease in people coming to work. It was tough to enter the building in the mornings, recently. Reporters were everywhere, a single glimpse of a worker from ensemble square would be interrogated with noisy questions.
They're still swarming on the other side of the pathway to the main building, where security tried keeping them away and guiding workers safely. It was ridiculous to think the press would have the decency to leave when told the second time, and you're aware they're only doing their job, but they ought to have respect.
"They keep on coming." Dean mumbled, amused at the view he got from NewDi's floor.
Normally, it would have been onerous trying to get visitor passes for her two friends without a business-worthy reason, but with Eichi, it was less challenging, and therefore, he had personally given her the visitor passes without any questions. It somehow felt like another warning of his. Kill them with kindness as some people say, or maybe he'd like for you to have moral support for today, you hope that was the case.
"I get why no one would want to come in to work today." You frowned. You turned away from the window. "I have to get to work. A presentation deadline is creeping up on me."
Dean watched you walk over to the shelves of books, archives, and records purely for the agency. He followed shortly, hands stuffed in his pants' pockets. "I know you're smart, but do you actually have an idea of what you're doing?" Dean had asked curiously, and full of concerned solely for you. The last thing on his mind for now was whatever project these idols have coming.
"Yeah? This isn't going to be my first live. I'm a little nervous, but I think we can pull it off." You replied before biting the inside of your cheek and turning back to the shelves.
Dean isn't an idiot nor did he have a lackadaisical form of reading his friends, he had picked up on how you put in extreme effort to be optimistic. "I don't doubt you, F/n. You can do it." He gives off a ginger pull of his lips, a small encouraging smile as you return with a thick folder of stage plans.
"Thanks, uhm...you don't have to stay here while I work, you know?" You pointed behind you, and you had turned to him under stress of emotion like the capsize of your workplace's energy wasn't just bothering you a moment ago. "We have a drink stand where you can customize your own—"
"I'd rather stay here with you." Dean chuckled. He's always straightforward to what he wanted to do.
"Are you sure? I have loads of paperwork to go through." You took a seat at one of the empty tables on the side. There are a couple of other workers at other tables. Some were gossiping and talking bad about the lousy reporters outside, others desperately tried focusing on their work.
