Clockwork | Brittana

Chapter 2

If nothing else, Brittany would like to believe that she was honest.

It was one of the easiest things in the world to be. All she had to do was say how you feel and write what you think. She didn't understand why people wanted to lie all the time, whem telling the truth was so simple. She supposed it was consequences. Not everyone liked being told; yes, I do think that dress makes you look fat. But maybe, one day, they would realize that she was just trying to help you out, and if you didn't want an honest answer, you shouldn't have asked. People weren't sincere by nature, they hid things, altered themselves, and conformed to the images they want the rest of the world to believe of them. Brittany never really understood the either.

Reporting made it easy to be honest. Her editors loved that she was clean cut, precise, and quite frank about her topics. That made for good reporting. It didn't help the people involved in the scandals, or the companies that thought they could get away with a few underhanded deals, but it made for good reporting.

Brittany wanted a little more than to state the facts, get a quote and throw in a picture. She wanted to tell a story. Really get her hands into something and figure out all the small details that would make other people just as interested as she was. She sat at her desk, the one facing the largest window in her apartment, and wrote about a woman she met that night.

Santana Lopez was just another woman hiding the truth. On the outside she was perfectly poised, charming, and beautiful... but Brittany had seen it in her eyes. Santana Lopez looked around and was bitter towards all the faces looking back. She didn't like the attention placed on her, she found it unnerving and perhaps even insulting. After all, she was there to showcase her work, not her body.

Brittany didn't deny that she enjoyed both; the work and Santana's body. Although, she didn't understand everything about the work, she defiantly could appreciate the woman's beauty, she was georgous. Perhaps that was the exact reason Santana was so bitter.

It wasn't hard to pull quotes from the interview, summarize the conversation and pick out a few pictures to go along with the article; the hard part was trying to keep to the facts. She was being honest, of course, but her writing was getting away from her, wandering off into the realm of interpretation. Brittany was writing about Santana, not as a woman at the convention, but as a woman at odds with the convention. And it was true. Santana Lopez had been at the convention and Brittany got the impression that she was at war with everyone around her.

Not that Brittany could blame her, Santana was either disregarded or scrutinized by the majority of her fellow showmen. It would be hard not to walk around thinking everyone was out to get you. Santana had held herself well despite that fact. She had been coridal and welcoming to questions, answering them with all the composure of the other showmen and just a dash of class.

Santana Lopez was a woman fighting for her place in her industry and Brittany wondered if she was the only one that could see it.

Quinn wasn't much of a cook, that was another talent of Santana's, but she could make a mean sandwich. She could make them just like Santana liked them and she took solace in that fact. She wsa currently making one of Santana's favorites, the kind Santana referred to as 'Shit Load of Meat on Wheat.' Quinn was going to make this sandwich, make herself one, and then sit in front of the TV and watch the marathon of America's Next Topmodel. She finished Santana's sandwich and cut it in half, rectangles, not triangles. She was about to call down to Santana to come get her food when the doorbell rang.

"If that's UPS, sign the damn thing get it down here," Santana's voice called up from the basement, "and don't fucking throw it this time!"

Quinn rolled her eyes, moving to the door, that was one time. It wasn't her fault Santana couldn't catch to save her life. Needless to say the modem didn't make it.