Across the Brooklyn Bridge

3

9:38 AM - 16th February 2015

"Welcome to the big leagues, kiddo". 

IN THE COURSE OF Julianne's private excursion around the terrain of FOX entertainment, she and her immediate supervisor, Nigel McGee, run into a surprisingly familiar face. Milo Prescott, an acquaintance through profession, rushes past Jules, almost missing her presence entirely.

"Milo, hi. What are you doing here?" Jules fondly tosses her arms around her friend's neck. When she spent six months blindly following her ex-boyfriend to London, Jules did not depart completely heartbroken. Her support system, ranging from Sutton, Arielle to Milo himself, pulled her through the frustratingly prolonged dilemma.

"Milo is one of our consultants- we borrow him from Ford management every once in a while," when Nigel elaborates on Milo's participation at FOX, he mentions the rather accomplished title of Julianne's old friend. Ford Model Management is as exclusive as Brangelina's wedding.

"You certainly know how to make a name for yourself," Jules praises, conveying a small, commending smile on her lips.

"As do you, Ansari. Hey- I'm getting a drink tonight with a friend. First round of shots is on me, what do you say to a little bit of good ol' hazing?" with a prompt allusion to the activities of new fraternity members, Milo creates an admittedly appealing invitation. And Jules is rarely one to deny free alcohol.

"Count me in".

As the art department co-ordinator, Nigel McGee is nothing short of an intimidating figurehead. Jules had perceived several members of staff scamper away in impetuous fretfulness. She, however, hadn't discerned the terror that Nigel seemingly elicited.

"Cecilia sounded fond of you, Julianne. I would not disappoint, if I were you," when the journey comes to a halt, Nigel turns to face Jules with a sympathetic expression. Almost pitiful. It is, frankly, badgering to have her executive place her on a direct pedestal among other, presumably more experienced employees.

"No pressure, right?" Jules chuckles lightly, uncharacteristic edginess tracing back in her tone of voice. She studies the dreary glass door to her cramped, yet existing, office. Nigel had spared Jules his scepticism and granted her an immediate place at the reputed adult table.

"One more thing, before I let you go. FOX is orchestrating an intern program, you've been assigned to one who goes by Jane Caldwell. Get used to pestering questions and dull remarks," before retiring to his own, resplendent office, Nigel nods to the brittle girl seated in Jules her office. She looks absolutely terrified. This day has fun written all over it. As Jules clasps her right hand around the handle of the office door, she inhales deeply, trying to smother away any indication of child-like excitement in her eyes.

"You must be Jane Caldwell," Jules crosses the threshold of her office and locks her hand in the dainty brunette's. Jane swallows with great difficulty but manages to whimper a muffled 'yes'. Jules her eyebrows furrow in momentary doubt. Had she already accomplished the tears and unvarnished fear of her assigned intern by her mere presence? Her own high-handed thoughts are casted aside when Jules notices the redness in Jane's eyes and the blotchy marks on her flaming red cheeks. "Were you crying?" Jules questions brusquely.

"Can you tell?" Jane sighs, attempting to recover her own visual giveaway. She wipes her index finger below her eye to scrub off any abiding mascara stains. She laughs, a feeble laugh with transparent hesitance, and impels a smile on her thin lips.