when: may 28th where: montague hq status: closed for @celeste-duval
It’s taken him no small amount of effort to work up the courage to step across the threshold into Celeste’s office, and the saddest part is, Boris cannot figure out why. To make matters worse, the door is open, and they’re just looking at each other. Or maybe it’s that he’s just looking at her.
His conversation with Sabello hadn’t been much of a deterrent, as Tomas Sabello had the threatening aura of, put kindly, a marshmallow. Whether he disliked Boris or not, Boris wouldn’t ever summon up the effort to care. So long as Tomas took the bait, as he often did, they’d be fine. Celeste --
Celeste is different. In his year-long absence he can’t tell if she’s changed much. She looks as unfussed as ever, poised, restrained, carefully simmering with something. It’d been impressive even in her early days with the Montagues when Boris had been assigned to show her the ropes. It was an act not even he’d been able to pin down and imitate. They all have their areas of expertise, he supposes. So: office. Threshold. Door. Yes.
He takes the first step uninvited and is somehow relieved that he does not burst into flames or melt. It’s not a church, so that might account for it. Boris gives a small, subtle nod, an indication: hello. I can show myself out, but I’d prefer not to. It’s hard to say that much in a small, subtle nod, but he tries regardless. “How are you?”
