over lunch ; morrigan&chang’e
Morrigan doesn't really care for waking up before noon, but if there's anything she's learned in her centuries of existence, it's that nothing gets done unless you do it, and things get done even slower if you task mortals with doing it. Demi-gods are, unfortunately, more human than god when it comes to some things, and so the only one handling the finances and paperwork in her life, is the goddess herself. She doesn't trust others to keep things how she likes them.
Therefore this fine morning finds her unlocking the Minx and slipping into the welcoming dimness, leaving her office door open as she hunkers down to begin sifting through emails and progress reports. No mortal could handle the workload of owning and managing an odd hundred dozen businesses, conglomerates and companies.
The bar is fully stocked, but as the Morrigan sits she almost finds herself wishing she had picked up something to eat or drink. Preferably something other than peanuts and liquor. With a sigh she goes through the meticulous process of ordering something and then selecting a demi-god she favors to bring her coffee. She surely isn't going back out into the sunlight to get it herself. As if any of the children would deny her demands.
It should be a while to wait, and so she fully immerses herself in her work, losing herself in the still silence of the club as she types away.
She must have left the door unlocked because the sound of it opening breaks her trance and she instantly checks the time. It's much too early. That leaves a hundred other possibilities, though, and mood soured she sweeps down the hall, scanning the dance floor from above on the balcony, eyes narrowed.
"YAH. Who is down there?"
