Maybe Damien wasn’t technically meant to be receiving personal visitors during his office hours, but when had rules like that ever deterred Nora ? They stood by the door, leant against the frame, arms crossed in front of themself — giving a rather focused look to the Mayor.
“ I don’t know how you manage to do this all day. ”
Boots tapped against the hard flooring as she walked closer, then stopped as she crouched in front of Damien’s desk. Always dressed nicely, if in her own definition of ‘ nice ’ rather than a typical suit. Military style uniform was far too stuffy, and suits were far too formal. They’d worked out their own in - between — collared shirt, small decorative scarf around their neck and tucked into the undone collar ( a shade of light purple, on that day ) , a well - kept jacket, neutral trousers, and of course the typical boots. Hair tied back in a bun, loose curls falling into their face and occasionally colliding with their glasses.
Arms folded, placing atop the edge of the desk, as she continued to watch Damien work. A look to the papers, then back up to Damien.
“ You’re fading. I can see it, ” she said, raising a hand to pointedly wave at Damien’s face. “ The life, it’s seeping out of your eyes. When was the last time you spent a night out ? The last time you actually had any fun ? How long has it been since you enjoyed even a walk about town ? ”
[ you have been visited by a @lcstfcund ! … yay ? ]
In actuality, the Mayor's office was closed to visitors, both professional and personal, but it had never stopped certain people from going in anyway. Damien was in the middle of reviewing a very important letter that he was writing to the teams of various local projects requesting a report on their progress ASAP. It was something that needed to be phrased just right: formal but not too stuffy, firm but not too pushy. The council needed a record of the progress, after all, and the last thing Damien needed was one team using a poorly phrased letter as an excuse to hark on about the Mayor being rude.
Of course, the important project had to be interrupted once he heard a familiar voice.
"I do it because I want things to go well in this city, Nora. I thought I told you that before."
A simple reply that didn't even get a glance up. Damien spotted a mistake that he wanted to note in pencil so he could remember it when using the typewriter later. By the time he was finished, they were kneeling on the other side of the desk, intently watching him work like a hawk.
"I'm not 'fading'," he countered with a sigh, putting the pencil back into the decorate pot to his right. There was no point even trying to get work done when she got into one of these moods. The pages were lifted to be straightened as he continued, "I am trying to get something important done. It only stands to reason that I am feeling a little stressed. Surprisingly, not everyone has the luxury of being footloose and fancy-free." Finally, dark brown eyes lifted to give her proper attention through a deadpan expression. "I don't do 'nights out' because I spend most of my life attending formal events and would rather not do the same in my free time. I went for a walk around the area yesterday, if you must know."
