charitydearlove:
“Mel bell, honey! He has shit on me – even if he doesn’t have credit now, do you think that won’t earn him some? I’m the fucking face of this shit heap city!”
Melody is a delicate, angelic little soul, which is something that defies Charity’s very nature and makes her, sometimes, intolerable to the demanding woman. She’s too sweet, too well assuming; now she’s trying to brush the threat of one of the fuckwits at the paper spreading gossip because she’d rather spare Charity’s feelings and wallet. Which, while agitating, is a trait Charity admires. But only in her assistant – likely because of her pretty face, though the other woman will be damned if that’s ever something she admits to. Still, she feels guilty almost as soon as she snaps, and pouting, she lays back in her recliner.
“Sorry I snapped, darlin’. But shit – you’re too nice to me.”
She’s hardly phased as Charity begins to go off -- it’s happened before, and after years on the job, Melody’s grown used to it. She knows that her boss means well, even if Charity doesn’t always show it, exactly. Her expression hardly even budges as she sits across from the older woman, hands folded in her lap.
“Exactly -- you are the face of this city. People already love you, no one if going to listen to a guy ramble his conspiracy theories in a think piece. You’ve earned that!”
No matter what dirt anyone -- even a man like Toby Franklin -- digs up about Charity, Melody chooses to remain optimistic about her boss. She’s stayed loyal through thick and thin; there’s little that could cause those feelings to waver.
