drdoxie:
@vanessafisk
Even after her untimely ‘death’ at the hands of Magneto and Emma Frost, June had kept many things in her life largely the same. The only glaring difference, of course, was her face. She’d maintained the same property, after the annoying process of re-purchasing it under an alias, and maintained that house as meticulously as she always had. There was nothing about it that was down carelessly, from the way she’d labeled the goods in the pantry to the arrangement of throw pillows and blankets on furniture. Things looked exactly as she meant for them to.
There was blank space on one of the walls. She’d stared at it over and over, that vacant space in her office, and finally decided to fill it. The name Fisk was familiar to her. June had gone to school in New York, after all, and she’d done a stint in Ryker’s herself before being transferred away to a much more secure facility. So when it came to her attention that a gallery had opened bearing the name, curiosity and her empty space led her there.
A cursory glance online had shown her who Vanessa Fisk was, what she looked like, and June was typically more inclined to deal with intelligent women than with any man she came across. She browsed through the walls of displayed art as she waited for her to make an appearance. June had called ahead, but she was early.
Vanessa made a point to research everyone prior to their arrival at her gallery. Most of her prospective clients were required to make appointments ahead of time, but it was in April’s favor that she had an opening that afternoon. A last minute cancellation.
There wasn’t anything remarkable about the woman from what she was able to find. That was typically the case. She was accustomed recluses and rich socialites, as well all the categories in between. There was no one she’d ever met that she hadn’t been able to work with successfully. She liked some information to work with, however, and didn’t relish walking in blind. In the future, she’d told her secretary, she would prefer no one be allowed to make same day appointments. The request was gentle enough that the new girl didn’t feel too shamed to greet April with her usual vivaciousness.
Moments later, Vanessa entered the room with a soft smile. “You must be April.” She offered her hand. “I’m Vanessa.” Starting off on a first name basis was balanced out by a more formal handshake. It was a line she walked until she learned more about the personality she was balancing. Some preferred formality, but there were plenty of clients who resented it in equal measure. “Are you new to the city?”
