compassion.

sylvie dewitt. hr counselor. so-called angel.

[frodo-sam]

Marta Cabrera + Outfits

KNIVES OUT (2019) dir. Rian Johnson. Costume Design by JENNY EAGAN.

[sylviedewitt]

MYLES.

“You’re a right barrel of laughs, aren’t ya?” He walks past her without a second thought before dropping into the cushions of the couch. Arms stretch themselves out over it, one ankle crossing over the other knee, making himself at home in a place he doesn’t fucking feel very much at home in at all. He’s not exactly here by choice, is he? In the end, that’s a problem for her to sort out. He’s got his own job to do, cameraman in toe, watching as the member of his staff settles in to the corner of the office.

His eyes roll slightly more than his head, bubbling energy brewing inside that has to be corked up thanks to the closing of the eyes and a quick clench of the jaw. “Piss off with that shit.” She’s in his line of vision again, smoke sprouting from a volcano that’s always on the edge of Pompeii. “How’s this? Can take a razor to his head and make it into a bleeding wig for you to feel better in ‘less you want it on the curly side. That work?”

she is calm, although the immediate showmanship does more than enough to indicate how her client might be feeling about himself. she is professional, more than certain that the footage is not leaving this building. there are too many papers signed and lawyers in the way. “no.” confrontational perhaps, but perhaps she is only trying to figure out the edges of myles delaney. she does not hope to push him to something, especially not with cameras as they are. but there seems to be a quantifiable amount of work to be done. “does it work for you?”

the immediate answer should be yes. she has a hard time picturing why it wouldn’t be. but she hopes for something different. it’s sometimes foolish to give into such whims, especially when all she knows would betray the thought. but still, she asks. still she waits for an answer. “there are some unfavorable topics that must be addressed. if we hope to satisfy company requirements.”

[milfsource]

ANA DE ARMAS in Deep Water | 2022

[sylviedewitt]

MICAH.

“Not much for a drive! I get it! Plenty of stuff around here to do! Can’t forget what’s in your own backyard, that’s for sure!” All she had to do was say the word. Even the vaguest hint of it being a burden had sent Micah into making a list of all the places around Los Angeles Sylvie might want to see. Garden of Oz! That’d be a hoot! But it was just a matter of getting their wires crossed. Jumped the gun! Ha! “A vacation, huh! Haven’t gone on one without the family tagging along! That’d be something! Just the two of us!” Could feel the electrical impulses of the heart buzz, like a short circuit in need of a tweak before busting. New territory! Like having a partner in crime, but with soda fountain stops and Route 66. What could be better? “Sure would get a kick out of seeing the Gateway Arch! What a modern marvel! How about it, doc? Wanna meet me in St. Louis? Ha!”

Hand in hand. Imagine that! All for the sake of science! Nothing else to gain from noticing how soft her hand felt against his, with all his little papercut-sized lines and occasional burn-marks that healed up over the years, palms a memory book of continued experimentation. Smaller fingers in comparison, how his tried to mold around hers and shrink to their size to preserve them, as if the night air would oxidize them.

Five seconds seemed short, gone in the blink of an eye, yet their hands were still holding onto each other, sidetracked by conversation, a beaming face returned to her before the eyes dropped down. “Take a look at that!” His hand slowly lessened its presence, winding around just enough to be a platform for hers, showing off the glowing ring that was on it. “No change means it’s a match! Looks like we’re the dream team, doc! How do you like that!”

“st. louis.” she murmured, as though she was going to be able to conjure the image of a place she’d never seen, nor ever had any desire to truly go. until this moment, where it seemed as though it was a destinations that she’d overlooked on her quest to see america. as though she’d perceived the country to be made up of new york and los angeles, and forgotten how much of the in between might hold interests yet unknown. all of which wrapped around her hand, the way that he’d folded his own fingers over hers. “i don’t mind the drive.” or at least hypothetically, there was no worry. 

she let him guide her, changing the position to how he might see holding hands. and still, they hadn’t let go, as though once the boundaries of personal space had been crossed, there was no purpose to try and quickly reestablish them. rather, it was simply about finding the new way in which it might be acknowledged. “quite the finding.” elation might have been the word for it, the thrill in having not the scientific acknowledgement of a match, but rather that micah’s calibrations were what had caused it. “of course your arch would be the perfect test.”

[sylviedewitt]

MYLES.

“Long as you don’t have me bending over and having a cough, I won’t give a toss to the rest,” he tells her, hand stretching out along his jaw, feeling the rough areas of where a morning’s shave should have happened. For now, he seems easy to please. He’s not bothered by being called into the office, at least in this moment. There’s a foggy memory of when he saw the notification on his phone’s screen, which is missing as much as the razor blade’s work. The image of his bathtub comes to mind, the running tap over it. Cock.

He’s about to answer her, but the knock on the door has him standing up instead, gesturing all the same for her to remain seated. After all, he’s been expecting this, and when he opens the door it shouldn’t take much of a leap to understand why. “Couldn’t pay the writers this week,” he sets up while a hand clasping on the visitor’s shoulder, his other balancing the camera he’s brought with. “Al’s going to be sitting in, then. Won’t even notice him. He’s used to that by now from the ladies lockers.–Any road, can take it from the jump, doctor. Makes for a clean opening.”

“no, that’s an m.d., i’m far more cerebral than that.” and indeed, there was plenty to explore with patients who gave her a warm welcome despite the visit being forced upon them. it was far more predictable for people to be angry at her appearance, to try and cover whatever there might have been exposed after an incident. but those who were lax about it either thought they might outsmart her, or genuinely had no idea the extent of their issues. that might have been far more work to be done there. 

“oh i’m so sorry.” she tried to angle herself away from the camera once it’s become apparent that it’s going to be filming. “this session can’t be film, i thought you were aware. it’s in my nda,” although she hadn’t brought the paperwork with her. she supposed there was a first time for every experience, unpleasant as some of them might have been. "we’ve found identity protection is best for clients and myself.”

[sylviedewitt]

@mylesdelaney​

“i hope you understand, this is just a formality.” she sits in her usual armchair, legs crossed at the ankles, attempting an unassuming form of casual repose. she’s found that it works best, at least until given another signal, to act as though every conversation that takes place in this office will be calm and simple. a direct route from point a to point b unless the other person would like to take a detour. “i think of it as a yearly check up.” of course, this is rarely the case, the file on myles delaney has a few specific questions that she must ask before they can end their sessions. this is what signing a contract means, this is what having your daughter in the department does, but most importantly this is what happens when there’s an obvious problem that needs to be addressed. but it’s difficult, when no one wants to treat it as a problem just yet. “how are you, mr. delaney?”

[rogerdeakinsdp]

ANA DE ARMAS // No Time to Die x Chopard

[conceptualsolitude]

concept: what you’re waiting for finally comes

[sylviedewitt]

micah.

“You betcha! A real rite of passage! You’d sure get a kick out of it, doc. Missed out on the Skywalk by only a few months. Gee, I hope fire manager Dave is still working. What a pal!” Taught him a thing or two that you just couldn’t get anywhere else! But a trip down memory lane couldn’t take away from the headline that he saw. Didn’t let it slip by him that it seemed like she hadn’t ever been before. “Wouldn’t make a bad trip one of these days, huh? Got yourself a tour guide right here if ya ever wanna have a go at it!”

The candy was handed over, slipped from his grasp to hers with a smile extended out all the same. Gentle light of her ring smoldering in the night, equal power to the electrical charge of his heart. Sharing is caring and all that. Real responsive, natural reaction!

“Not much for astrology, huh! Me neither! All about confirmation bias, ammiright?” Not that Micah was vehemently against it as though it was a scourge on the earth. It was a hoot, all things considered! Lucky numbers and love matches, who couldn’t get a laugh out of that! “Put it there, doc!” he went on ahead, hand out for her to shake. “Gotta make the ring get a good feel of me to have it figure out the rest. Sure wonder if it missed me! Ha! Only needs a five second window to see what it thinks of the pair of us. But I’ll tell ya what! Can’t think of a single thing disappointing about ya. Not a worry!”

“it’s a little further than a day trip.” the map of america stretched out in her mind, trying to calculate the distance from los angeles to the grand canyon national park. it was more than four hours, which meant that was the day at least. but it didn’t mean that she was disinterested in making such a journey. “if you have a break in production, the skywalk would be interesting.” a strange combination of human engineering and the natural world, the physical manifestation of impact changing terrain. “is there anywhere you haven’t been— i wouldn’t be opposed to something more like a vacation.”

she looked down at his hand before slipping her own into his grasp, her own lotion soft and manicured from days spent in an office trying to radiate comfort and stability. when matched with his own rough and less kept, focused on the pleasures in life, striving towards the goals that entertained him and he personally wanted to achieve. 

“oh no, i certainly can’t either.” why, her election to spend yet another holiday with him must have been more an exposure of bias than anything that an astrological sign would have had. there was little doubt to her mind what she felt, but she would never force such feelings. and she would not impose her own thoughts on such a topic, but it was nice to hear a similar thought already being echoed. “i’m sure some part of the programming recognizes you.” five seconds passed, but she kept holding. she was never the first to break contact, whether it be a hug or a handshake, she had been accustomed from a young age to waiting until the other person was satisfied. “i suppose a systematic reaction is not a fingerprint, but if you calibrated it yourself anything is possible.”

[sylviedewitt]

micah.

“This old pal?” Micah asked with a light pat to the telescope. “Nah! No rough edges around here! It’s the real deal! A genuine Celestron! Got it after tinkering with a pair of dad’s binoculars. Boy, oh, boy was he not a happy camper that day! Ha!” As often as there was, the genuinely humored smile spread across his face at the memory, the road trip of pure Americana hitting a speed bump from a growing mind. “Had double vision of the Grand Canyon! Sure wasn’t in the mood to hear about things being twice as nice! What can ya do!”

The robotic din of the telescope faded in the background, controller still in his hands, while the drinks seemed to be well-received, cranberry especially. Something to file away! “But wait, there’s more! Ha! Not much of a chef, but couldn’t forget about what you said to bring last time!” His hand was freed up, slipping back into the wicker picnic basket, pulling out a bag of Sour Patch Kids, a little token of memory of the first and only New Year’s Eve shared passed over to her. “Just what the doctor ordered! Told me to bring them for next time,” he reminded, another pull of a smile, softer this round.

“Getting a real kick out of it, huh!” he flipped back, proud of the ring on her finger bringing a splash of joy. He had done plenty of tests on it, trial and error, equations up the wazoo! All of it worth it in the end! “That’s the power of adaptive cognitive computing! Should be able to calculate compatibilities, by now! Can always put it to the test and shake my hand to give it a go! Better than your every day horoscope, guaranteed! Gotta make sure we’re a real dream team and all that!”

“certainly worth the risk, seeing how it’s held up.” set up in a completely new location, the appearance now simply a part of its charm. “you saw the grand canyon with your family?” the information clung to like so sweet precious thing, that he’d indeed had such a wholesome experience and in such an american place. not because she believed he particularly needed the memory, but because she might have liked it. wanted to hear about it, wanted to go. an interesting proposition of give and take. her next set of questions postponed with the introduction of the snacks that he’d brought with. sweetheart eyes turned to not only the non-alcholic beverage they could share, but the snacks that came paired along with it. 

she’d advised a client once, that she need only say something one time and if it was important to her partner, it would be remembered. it had seemed logical at the time, in relation to a birthday or an anniversary. big shared moments that every relationship had. she had never thought to apply such logic to herself until she took the candy from him, ring glowing.

“oh i don’t believe in all of that.” there were far more dependable things that made up a person. the reliance on a particular time of birth was wholly irresponsible to her mind. it was a set of traits that could align however one saw fit, akin to having your fortune told. but she held her free hand out regardless of any scientific reservations on the topic. “a cognitive trigger is elusive in some people.” the only physical signs of attraction she could think of were instantaneous, there was no proven longevity to them, but she was eager to hear the suggestion put forward. “though i’m sure it’s used to my autonomic reactions by now. i’m sure i won’t disappoint.”

[sylviedewitt]

micah.

Celestron logo was still hanging on by the sticker slapped on by the manufacturing team that put it all together. Same faithful telescope he had used back in the day, same controller that was in Micah’s hands, twisting it around by the power of motherboards and hardwired science. It made the same hum as it did then, pausing it as Sylvie spoke, best way to listen! “That’s the big idea! Ha! Won’t let you down, doc. You can count on me.” The coordinates were almost put in place, knowing exactly what was on the agenda, timing down pat. He’d be sure to make it special for her. Least he could do to repay her for accepting the invitation to come join him, as if he would be doing this without her to share it with.

Little more to the left, few degrees south, and it was stationary. “Got yourself a front row seat to the best light show out there!” he beamed, smile thrown over to her before being able to nod along to what she was saying, focusing on champagne as the main factor. Good thing he didn’t bring any! “Not much of a lush! I get ya! Me neither! How about that? Can’t go without something to go down the gullet! Have a look here.” A basket beside the telescope was opened up, little click of a simple metal clasp releasing the wicker flap to get a bottle out, just enough light around to have Sparkling Juice spelled out to the eye. “Not allergic to cranberry, are ya? Brought apple just in case! Can’t be too careful!” Holding it out for her to see, the glow of the ring was finally noticed, sticking out like a sore thumb, smile widening with pride. “Got some use out of it, huh! No complaints?”

“i know.” she met his words with affirmation instead of encouragement. he wouldn’t let her down, chief of all because he couldn’t. the effort that went into setting up the telescope on this rooftop hadn’t gone unnoticed. his work tended to have a cluttered look when in an unfinished state. the wires that remained exposed betrayed the work that he was capable of. but it didn’t mean that the foundation was any less perfect. “is this a prototype?” the question was asked with genuine curiosity, though she didn’t hover in the space while he corrected. the details were his to explain if he chose. 

“it’s always safer to bring two.” she smiled and nodded at the bottle in hand. there was little to disagree with when it came to sparkling juice. there was only a nice thought of a childhood she hadn’t celebrated. it seemed perfectly american though, like everything he did. unfailing in the choices he made. “but cranberry is just fine to start.” she had little hand in the night other than her attentive focus, but she couldn’t deny a certain hope that it might extend into a second bottle of sparkling juice. a few minutes past midnight, if she were to lean on the holiday. 

“i—” she looked down at the ring, softly continuing on its course. the engraving therein bursting for a moment in her memory. “it never ceases to entertain.” there were plenty of different modes in which to analyze the ring on her finger. many of them were spent turning it over in her hands at night in the pursuit of scientific inquiry. but not all of them. “it could be a placebo of my own doing, but its calibrations seem to have become more attuned to my system.” she was not so certain that she would call the operation a.i. it might have been a particular hyperfixation on the gift than came from the personalization of it.“we work well together.”

[sylviedewitt]

micah.

2021 was a promising new dawn, ready to rise the moment the clock struck midnight. Micah could easily go on a tangent about time, a never-ending stream of words that could leave a guy breathless, a fourth dimensional guide to life that we never could put our fingers on, all relative, only to sum it up in the end with ‘time flies when you’re having fun!’ It felt that way, standing in the barren landscape, his personal testing area around him, Sylvie looked over at the moment the cap was popped off the lens of his boyhood telescope. All seemed like it was going at Mach 1 to him!

“Bet this old timer sure is glad to shake off the cobwebs!” He patted at the optical tube like it was an old pal. In many ways it was. “Haven’t had it out for a spin since coming out here to tinsel town! Guess it made the long journey over to sit and wait for you to come along! Ha!” Couldn’t deny that he had gone through an astronomy phase when he was a little boy, lifting baby Lindy to look through the eye-piece he was now making sure was spotless with the edge of his plaid sleeve. “Gotta make it all worth missing the big Prometheus shindig for the second year in a row, huh, doc!”

@sylviedewitt​

she was softly alit from the inside. a glow that started with the ring that she remembered to wear, had remembered to keep the entire year. although she didn’t often wear it— a distraction for patients who were already suspicious of their conversations, and ones who needed a conversation topic outside of their own reasons for visiting. but now was such an occasion to wear it. “i’m sure it won’t disappoint.” she nodded at the telescope, letting him set up whatever he would like. 

the invite hadn’t been a surprise per-say, they had spent that last new year together and most people were creatures of habit. traditionalists to the end, but it was still nice to be associated with the holiday. she was interested to see what he would come up with this year, for reasons that she had not asked but could guess— he had moved away from some of inception style talk. “i don’t mind.” the parties were fine, but she still had not seemed to broach becoming the center of any conversation. something small suited her just fine. “i had a better time last year with you. champagne doesn’t suit me all too well.” 

[sylviedewitt]

micah.

He looked like he embodied a pause in time, a beat of a moment to wrap around the syntax of what she had said, for the neurons to plot out a course of action through the brain, for those words to slot into the right place like the old video game system he played through. “Ha!” he finally came out with, eraser of the pencil sliding across the side of his hair to fit at the ear. “All part of the job, huh! I get it! Always on the clock! Gotta take a break now and then, doc! All work and no play, ammiright? Sure can’t say it hurts any to think you’re my biggest fan.” No competition on that one!

Eyes dropped down to the drawing he gave her, perking back to her face. Perfect to her! Sure was nice of her to say. “Good start to a dream home! It’d make you the queen bee! Ha! You’re a shoe in, doc! Sweet as honey!” All the puns in the world didn’t make them any less true, beaming at her, little flicker of happiness to knowing she liked the idea. Maybe she’d even keep the drawing. “Had an ant farm as a tyke. What a blast it was watching them build their colonies!” he offered back, little exchange, little tie-in to her life with his. “Heard a tidbit about the Huntington Library taking care of some hives up there! Could take a look-see at them. Whenever you want! How about it, doc?”

“you shouldn’t always be on the clock. even if you love the job.” she nodded her agreement, though his metaphor tended towards the film and hers the more common cliche. the nuance of the person filtering into the sentiment, choosing the suitable cliche. “but i’m happy to be your biggest fan.” she knew the role was usually reserved for family members, but it was just as likely that family went sour on the idea. and it was just as impolite to ask such a thing in the middle of his own space, when it hadn’t been prompted by any more than her own wandering thoughts. 

“i always wanted to help them.” though she knew it hardly qualified her to be a queen of any kind. nor did she want to. it was enough to know that something was endangered, and she might have played some small role in restoring balance. she looked at the drawing again, holding it along the edges so that she didn’t wrinkle or crease the work, treating even the sketch with the concern it deserved, that she doubted had been shown to her. 

“the botanical garden? that would be nice.” it was too close to count to for something so frivolous as a day trip or a picnic, but she would be remiss to shoot down any gesture that was made. her mood ring continued to signal just as much, a sliding scale of happy pastels. “we might get lunch too, if you had the free time.”

[sylviedewitt]

BASICS—

full name: sylvie iglesias corisande dewitt 

birthday: september 20th

age: thirty

zodiac sign: virgo

religion: catholic

religious level (1-10): 5

birthplace: barcelona, spain 

current residence: los angeles, california

height: 5′6″

hair color: brown

eye color: hazel

sexuality: bisexual

romantic preference: biromantic

relationship status: single????

languages known: english, spanish, catalan,  french 

DETAILS—

car: tesla model y 

phone: samsung galaxy note 20

music genres: classical, anything that would be playing in a coffee shop

wardrobe: business casual. often neutral with pops of soft pastels or florals. blends in.

estimated net worth: 2 million

ransom value: eh depends how much you want her observations

education: BS in criminology & psychology from the university of barcelona. MS in psychology from the university of cambridge. PhD in behavioral psychology from the university of cambridge. 

CONNECTIONS—

father: john paul dewitt, lawyer. resides in new york city

mother: clarissa marie andres. deceased. 

grandmother: lydia corisande andres. resides in barcelona.

aunt: marisol corisande de leon, housewife. resides in london.

uncle-in-law: peter michel de leon, investment banker. resides in london.

cousins: michel, opal, lydia, and john de leon. various occupations. all reside in london.

significant other: micah rockwell bates, special effects expert. resides in los angeles. 

LEVELS (1-10)—

drinking: 2

swearing: 3

smoking status: 0

drugs: 0

cooking proficiency: 7

intelligence: 9

emotional/social intelligence: 10

creativity: 6

temper: 2

[sylviedewitt]

micah.

“First thing that came to mind! Gotta find a way to keep all the cats in. All that herding cats business! What a doozy!” Didn’t even occur to him that she may have been alluding to him, to what he wanted out of life, what future he had laid out for himself, any desire for the self. It was about Tomas and the cats! The hippest band out there! Ha! It was different when the roles were reversed, where the tables were turned and the attention glimmered across her instead of being a hazy mist unable to reach him. “Didn’t have one growing up, huh? No problemo! It’s not for everyone!” he told her, smile sprouting across his face. “Want me to make ya one? Can throw together the blueprints in a jiff! How about something like this?”

Spare notebook was taken, quad-ruled pages opened up as the spine rested against his lap with number two pencil in his hand. “Good fences make good neighbors, ammiright?” Quick strokes made, dimensions labeled beneath, an arching gate created for her. “Can’t forget the way in! You’re a real people person there, doc! Never met a stranger, I bet! Gee, it was like you knew me for all my life when we first met! What a skill!” A few additional touches added, a little aesthetic brush of vines climbing up along the entrance way. Mentioned plants once, he remembered. Seemed right up her alley! “Whatcha think?” he asked, finally turning it for her to see. “A real traditionalist take! Green Acres all the way! Could always spice it up with a sprinkling of bug colonies in the pickets, eco-friendly and all that jazz! Your very own bug hotel!”

“did you—” there was an eloquent question to be formed if she’d had the moment. equal part small talk and learning about his own childhood. she hadn’t had one growing up, boarding schools made for wrought iron fences. but there was no point in forcing a conversation topic, not when his redirect was so precise. more important that she have one now it seemed, even on notebook paper. the ring its soft pink hue. 

“hardly a skill. i’m interested in what you have to say.” she watched him work, explaining the decisions only the split second after he drew them out. a fence to so many of her patients had been built to keep out, set boundaries, make sure no one could climb over them. but he seemed to think the opposite, wasn’t it curious enough to let him talk. didn’t it make for both unique and kind. “it looks perfect.” envisioned americana from some reference he must have had. she didn’t think it was a memory, not from how he described the plants that were there. some kind of specific design for her. “it looks nice, peaceful really.” the house it lead to would be equally perfect in style she was sure. small suburbs studied until they created the perfect house. “i always meant to have a bee farm as a girl.” was the information a reward or was it active sharing, and did everything have to be categorized in her analytical brain? “this would be a good start.”

[sylviedewitt]

micah.

He was fine! No problems here! Pink for love! Or affection. Adoration. Small time crush! “All in the saturation! The more of a punch, the closer it is to the real deal! Got yourself a real cotton candy pink here! Early stages and all that! Stomach with a case of the butterfly effect! Ha!” he teased, supportive always, railroading any blockades that may have been in the way. Didn’t belong there, anyways! What a goof!

Attention swallowed up, eyes on her as she talked, smile still surviving, nodding along. “Boy, isn’t he! What a guy, I’ll tell ya what! All please and thank yous from him! Never a bad word!” Good for him! Another nod, something catching the eyes in the idle swing, old color resurfacing, making him scratch the back of his head. And then it seemed to click. Boyfriend! “Taken, huh! How about that! Who knew! Sure does keep to himself! Cats, too! What a life. All white picket fences! Ha!” But where did all the information funnel to, now? The analysis there with nothing to decipher it with. All theories and no facts, self not factored in, never really was. Couldn’t be him!

“Can’t wait to meet the lucky guy or gal, doc! I’ll give ‘em a good once over for ya! Gotta make sure they’re a keeper! No one too good for you!”

she studied the shade of the ring, if it was true that it deepened along with the depth of the emotion then it would be something to be studied. she was intrigued by the concept, that he had found the time to build it, that her name was the one engraved in it. the ring hovered at its light yellow, as though it might flicker back to grey or some new color at any moment. “they’re very nice together.” she observed his reaction with some curiosity, she didn’t know tomas’s network of friends with much accuracy, but she was happy to dispell some notions; he seemed happier with the knowledge at the very least. 

“a white picket fence? is that what you’re thinking?” it was view of happiness that aligned fairly well with what she knew of micah thus far. everything seemed to retrace its steps back to americana in ways that she couldn’t fully understand. she simply was raised differently, and to think of it as human experience instead of something to be analyzed. “i wouldn’t know the first thing about them.” she knew their lives were not venn diagrams, to compare and contrast, but so often it seemed the best way to get information about him. where he might have come from, to develop the skills he had as well as the empathy that seemed ruled his life. “you’d be sure to build one, right?”

[sylviedewitt]

micah.

“Slate gray! That’s a neat one! Caught ya off guard, huh!” he joked with winding smile before his back turned for a moment, the change to pink going by unnoticed. Couldn’t wait to share everything it was programmed for with her, every detail that had already been documented by trial and error, the variety of emotions it had catalogued with his hand on the key to it all. He pulled it out to show her, a slew of cards that spanned across the spectrum. The color palette was held together by a single ring, all of the samples able to be flipped through one at a time, easy to compare and contrast when just held against whatever mood needed to be decoded.

“Let’s take a look-see here! Can tell ya from that what it’s tuning into!” Head bowed down, catching the pink tone that had been spotted twice now. The printed colors flipped before landing on the right one, delineating what the contraption had recorded. “Oof! What a cocktail! Spike in cortisol, dopamine and good ol’ norepinephrine chasing right after. Go hand-in-hand those two! Lose a drop of serotonin and shake it up with the beats per minute, got yourself a nip from the love-bug! Ha! Must be reminding you of someone, doc!”

Micah’s face drew up from the ring, the grin there but the eyes losing a tint of its sparkle. The ring still pink at the change of topic, now with name attached. Tomas? That’s fine! That made sense! What a catch! It’s fine! “Nothing you haven’t heard before! Nicest gal around, a real helping hand, couldn’t be better! Nevermind that! Tomas! What a chatterbox! Thinks you’re real swell, too!”

“pink for love then.” a traditional coding, if a little on the nose. she’d never had a mood ring as a little girl, let alone one that had been personalized for her. perhaps love was too strong a word for what she was feeling, but the terminology was simple enough.

ring held steady until she noticed his expression, the sudden change of topic. she knew what pink might mean, more over what cortisol, dopamine, and norepinephrine combined into. a shade of pink that displayed far more than she was able to ever verbalize. and then as quickly as it might— it shifted from pink back to that yellow.

 “oh, tomas?” she tried to think of what she might say about people that she’d only met as clients, unable to say much without being in direct violation of their own rights. she could divulge very little, it seemed. “i’ve only met him a few times. he’s polite.” nearly enough to draw the opinion that he was too timid for his own good, but the kind of confidence that was needed to navigate his particular situations would take time. it was only professional, and they needn’t talk about work. “he and his boyfriend own quite the array of cats, if i’m remembering correctly.”