Zoe Marshall!

Call me Baskin Robbins cause I'm here for all 31 scoops!

[zoexmarshall]

A list of Zoe’s Character Tropes

Pushover

Cat-Owner

General Apologist

Living Punching Bag

"Single Life for Me' says local girl with no choice in the matter"

Loser Club

They're not Conspiracy Theories if they're Conspiracy Facts

Journalistic Honor

Disney Adult (lite)

*nervous laughter*

Child of Divorce Club

Story Idea: My Missing Sister

Second Favorite Child of 2 Children

"Childhood not bad enough to be labeled trauma still kinda sucks"

[zoexmarshall]

emmareevcs​:

the journalist smiles and nods at her, she offers nothing in return. certainly it wasn’t so long ago that she was as eager to please, making sure that every detail of a story was in its place. but that was before she found herself so often mentioned in them, a feat that zoe has yet to accomplish. perhaps if she were not so worn in with the fervor of her own work it would have elicited a more charmed response. instead she is still unsure of the point. there is only one point that she catches on, keeping her rooted in place instead of leaving the conversation “romantic how?”

She doesn't expect what she gets back. A good amount has been heard about Emma Reeves, and coldness isn't a word that has its place in the summary of her behavior. For a moment, she's taken aback out of surprise, caught off guard, like a school girl called out by her teacher when all she was doing was chatting in the back with her friends. Maybe she was mistaken in trying to act as though they were from the same classroom.

"Oh, uhm, well, it's not like classically romantic, I guess, not the Hallmark channel kind of romance, anyways. Heh." Joking without thought makes Zoe squirm from her own words, making her arms press to the sides of her body in some unconscious attempt to make herself smaller, as if her very existence is proving to be inconvenient. "It's been a really, really long time since I had to read Shakespeare for school and, you know, in between all the thous and thees it's a little hard sometimes to get it all unjumbled and stuff, but I'm pretty sure like one of the big reasons Ophelia did what she did was because she didn't want to betray Hamlet? So, I think that's kinda nice. And then Hamlet like went to her grave and we found out he still loved her, like it really gave him a big push to fight. I could def be wrong, but that's what I pretty much meant when I said that, and I mean, there's also of course you and Mr. Reeves!" She gestures towards common ground, one she's unaware is merely a sinkhole in disguise. "It's cute to see your different tastes coming together and stuff. Big goals."

[zoexmarshall]

@chloedmiller​

“I know you’re like always super jammed, but I could totally buy! You know... in exchange for like... five minutes... Tops!” She’s not begging. This is journalism. Professional stuff. Besides, how often is she going to run into Chloe Delaney Miller outside of Prometheus? As if she knew where she usually hangs out! She doesn’t want to blow the chance. “You’d be in really good company with the article I’m writing up. I mean, you know Zion, right?”

[zoexmarshall]

tomas-visser​:

“I know.. the basics, but I’m definitely not an expert on extracting cocoa, mostly just tempering than anything else.” Thinking back to training with chocolate and tempering only gave slight traumatising flashbacks. “Anyways, I’ll leave the chocolate making to the real experts,” no point wasting precious ingredients if he doesn’t know what he’s doing with them.

He shook his head quickly the moment the small detail was picked up by Zoe almost immediately and questioned. “No no, just- no new occasion, I test out new recipes all the time.” He quickly dodged the question, should he be the cause of something leaking out before it should. But his interest piqued the moment she let out a small detail, blinking in confusion as he paused his search, “you’ve.. never had a chestnut before? Oh- you totally should. You can have some- if we find the package..” he grumbled remembering that state of his missing chestnuts after freely offering it up to her. “They’re really good roasted over fire. Not really just for Christmas, mont blanc’s make great use of chestnuts too.” It’s been awhile since he’s had a good use of chestnuts, so the prospects truly was exciting.

He frowned at the picture sent of where the package was left, and who signed it, comparing the picture to reality. “Me?” Tomas repeated her words, on an edge hearing she’s chasing a lead, hoping that lead wasn’t him. No offense to her. “Charles Irons? Well we’re-” Tomas stopped himself, seeing the pitfall he was falling into. We’re close was what he wanted to say and let slip. Probably not good to let his words be used against him, and Charles. “Um- what about Charles?”

"Oh, what? Really? It's getting to be almost like a four course meal over here!" she joked, wide smile illuminated at the prospect of free food. Not just free food, but free food from acclaimed chef turned actor Tomas de Visser. It was as if she was a Vanity Fair journalist. She could read the article in her head already, complete with words like scrumptious and titillating. Fancy!

The missing package was barely a fixture to background thought, Zoe's focus hinging on chestnuts and Dunkirk's cast, one of which outweighed the other considerably. Tomas' words even made her forget to look altogether, popping her head up from the other side of the counter to look at him. Seemed suspicious to word it like that about Charles Irons, but for what reason? That's what she had to find out. That's what she got the big bucks for... or slightly less than reasonably sized ones, anyways.

"You know! Like the basics. Things everyone kinda wants to know and stuff. The normal drill!" she passed on with a wave of her hand. "Was sorta wondering if he was dating seriously maybe? Not that I'm asking for me! Unless you think... Nah! I'm just kidding..." The note hung in the air for a longer than necessary pause before she laughed at herself, forced it out from the back of her throat before going on, hoping to bury the past words up. "I really thought he had a girlfriend for awhile because he was like blackout on the dating scene for like awhile there! Which is totally strange, right? And he was dating Freya Asquith for awhile, but haven't seen her in a long, long time. And now it's sorta Sarah Kinney? A rumor of Carolina Papen? Lowkey doubt that a little, but you never know! I mean, you might... so just wondering."

[zoexmarshall]

emmareevcs​:

the word ampersand pulls her farther back, were that even possible. interactions with strangers were to be kept at the absolute minimum, interactions with the competition were simply unacceptable. zoe marshall doesn’t seem to know of such lines in the world, or she does and she’s decided insurrection is the best route. there’s no telling, and she simply doesn’t want to be the one to say. “zoe.” she says once, perfunctory smile, the gestures of someone who is receiving and retaining but not truly understanding what is said. as though she has already defaulted to editor of this conversation. 

“the gallery is certainly a center point.” one of the only parts of the house that guests were allowed in, always well stocked and well serviced. all she had to do was stand in the corner and allow the night to wash over her. she wondered when that had become her fate, ophelia about to be drowned instead of holding court. the world closing in instead of opening. “most people prefer the goya, the caravaggio.” she searches for more last names fit for a textbook that hang in the same place she calls her home. the names that have been repeated to her again and again until their importance is implicit. and she recites what should be: “you’re not too familiar with art history?”

What else can she do but smile and nod when her name is repeated back to her? Yes, that's my name! Good job! "Yeah, without the 'y,' which was kinda something when I was really little. Some people were like 'Zo,' which I get, but like who goes by that, right?" She's trying to make conversation, an anecdote sacrificed from her own life that plays a version of musical chairs without any place to sit, spinning around and around before Emma's expression unplugs the stereo. She returns to her instincts: smile and nod.

"They're... pretty neat, too..." She forces herself not to expand on what she remembers being a Goya and what's called a Caravaggio. They're dark. Too dark for her tastes. She has a flashing memory of cannibalism and beheading, respectfully. "Art history wasn't really part of my courses..." she admits, a careful confession that barely waits for a gauge to be taken before she continues. "But isn't art like supposed to be subjective or something? That's what makes it art instead of a science, don't you think? I mean, the Ophelia one def doesn't seem like those, but you guys like it, right? You and Mr. Reeves? It's gotta mean something special to be with the rest!--I think it’s kinda romantic, anyways."

[zoexmarshall]

emmareevcs​:

ZOE.

she pretends she does not hear her name, the harsh grating over the mrs amplified by her surroundings, by the other thoughts that have found their way into her head. reeves is cushioned between enunciated thoughts about what pairs best with aged sottocenere, whether she might venture out into pastas yet uncharted, recipes not yet tried. there is little room for the decisions to be made as she’s approached with introductions and names she should know. 

“rowan young?” she gives a hollow stare, just barely warmed by the corners of a smile. the kind of frigid politeness that lets someone know that they were never called upon in the first place. in these moments she liked to believe in her anonymity, but the truth rarely matched. she does not glance back down at what’s in her basket, the makings of some warm meal and quiet night. it wasn’t lasagna, but she wasn’t going to start correcting now. “i don’t believe i know you, i’m sorry.”

She'd call herself an empath. It's more curse than blessing, always picking up on the feelings that surround her, or maybe it was just her own mind playing tricks on her. She senses something particular from the Mrs. Reeves that has her second-guessing. She doesn't know her, not by face, not by name, and not by association. "Oh. No! It's totally cool, for sure. I mean, I'd def be surprised if you did know me. It's not like I'm on the payroll or anything. Opposite, actually! I work for the big competition!" She jokes, or at least she finds it a little funny in a David versus Goliath type of way, but she sees it doesn't land before there's much of a chance for Emma to combat it. "Ampersand. I work for Ampersand," she corrects herself with a nod, followed by a quickly constructed smile. "My name is Zoe Marshall." A hand extends itself out to her, and if it isn't taken, it will turn into a short-lived wave that will equal the awkwardness brought on by its predecessor. "Zoe for short because... that's my first name. Can't get any shorter than that!"

A chuckle is breathed out, an empty noise that rattles from self-awareness before she is able to jump to the next set of words like a lifeline. "I was a guest at the art gallery party you guys threw! I was a plus one, but it was really nice of you to let me in and take a look around. Your house is so pretty, and I really vibed with the paintings." Most of them. "The Ophelia one, super heart-breakingly beautiful!"

[zoexmarshall]

@emmareevcs​

Okay, there was no such thing as cheap groceries in L.A. Maybe if she knew where the markets were, that'd be the ticket, but then what would she make? Would farmer's markets sell cup of noodles and gummi bears? Probably not. That didn't seem like something that'd fit the farm-to-table motto. It was her own fault for leaving it to the last minute, anyways. Her basket only had room in the budget for the essentials, cans of cat food at the top, before she could round the corner for the noodle aisle.

"Mrs. Reeves?" The words were barely thought of, eyes acting first to spark open the mouth, the power of surprise. "Hey! Hi!" She readjusts herself, straightening up from leaning over. She probably doesn't recognize her. "It's Zoe. Zoe Marshall. I know Rowan, so maybe you kinda know me, not that we're like super close or anything, but..." Her bottom lip is drawn in to stop the rambling, sight drifting to what she's taken off the shelves for new conversation. "Do you like always do the shopping?” Def felt like an assistant would be on the payroll for that sort of stuff. “That's really cool! Looks like you're making lasagna or something? Sounds yum. I wish I could make that!"

[zoexmarshall]

tomas-visser​:

Tomas was wary seeing Zoe beside him, worrying what might end up on the news again if anything escalated. But nonetheless he was thankful for the extra pair of eyes as she started looking with him. “Yeah I got the alert much earlier than I thought this morning and I was still at the bakery so..” he fumbled for his phone to swipe over the alert with the photo attached and parcel signed. Tomas sighed into a laugh, “they know their chocolate yes but I’ll stick to Dutch chocolate.” As much as Tomas loves chocolate, he couldn’t compare to his sister’s artistry. 

“Actually.. it’s lemons and chestnuts,” which now as he says it out loud, sounds completely ridiculous and overly extra to be shipping from France, “I mean- they’re specifically regional grown and I’m working on a new recipe-” The only reason why he’s always so eager to step back into Masterchef as a guest judge every single time, is that the show gives him pretty much free reign on whatever crazy dessert he brings for their pressure test. They’re all usually free to discuss their shows within the Prometheus building, but he shut his mouth remembering who he was speaking to, doubting that journalists have signed the same NDA with Prometheus. “What got you visiting here this time?” Tomas tried to change to subject with a soft greeting smile as he started searching around the reception.

"For sure, duh!" Zoe's laugh was perched on uncertainty, which she hoped was concealed enough by rolling eyes and a quick shake of her head. Of course she knew about his sister. She knew more about Tomas de Visser and other contracts than she may have known about her own family, but that wasn't the sticking point that showed in how she bit her lower lip. "So, like... you can make chocolate from scratch...?" she trailed off, eyes shifting away as she adjusted the strap on her purse. Stupid question, better to leave it behind her, replace it with the new news.

"New recipe, okay! Is there like a special occasion going on or something?" Head tilted, spirit reinvigorated by potential. It could mean all sorts of things. New television special, catering a high-profile party, guest appearances, so many options. "Sounds fancy! I've never had a chestnut before. They're pretty much like festive walnuts, right? Kinda Christmasey."

She followed his lead, reverting to looking for the package while they chatted, even if Zoe's heart was more in the conversation than the search. "Oh, you know! The usge! Checking out a lead and stuff.--Maybe you could help! Cause you and Charles Irons are lowkey close, right? I mean Dunkirk and now La La Land... adds up, you know? You’d make awesome besties!"

[zoexmarshall]

tomas-visser​:

| open

“No, there has be to a mistake– I’m pretty sure the delivery was made here already this morning, I- I got the notification..” Panic rose within Tomas as he plead the receptionist who had zero clue about what was happening having entered started her shift at Prometheus. Tomas dropped his head as his brown locks flopped forward in dismay, with a soft dejected sigh. “Sorry, have you seen a medium sized crate arrive– about this size and– and coming from France- should have some fragile label on it..” Tomas felt a presence came to his side as he immediate ask the next closest person he could find.

Her mom had wanted her to get a job as a receptionist once--well, it was more like a hostess--but Zoe was never built for it. She was glad for it, but in a pinch I guess she sufficed as one for Tomas' sake. Almost. The ice in her mocha jangled against the walls of the Starbucks cup, forced by her whims in movement as she searched for the box, twisting around in place and craning her neck beyond the desk in front of them. "Uhm, I mean, it's gotta be around here somewhere, right? If you got a notification, those def don't lie. Amazon is like super good about that stuff lately. They take a pic and everything. Sounds really fancy whatever it is!" She hoped she was being encouraging, even when the end result was coming up short. "Is it like some pretty rare Parisian chocolate? ...Is that a thing? Sounds like a thing."

[zoexmarshall]

birdiejennings​:

“he’s not coming to get them.” she affirms. even though her address is in her file, she very much doubts that it’s something that fabian would be needing to know off hand. and there’s always the addendum that it’s not for him at all, that she picked up the cigarettes because she could, and no one was going to stop her. it was just a funny note, to see the name branded across such a simple product, to know the man who it paid couldn’t have really cared less. she’s not sure she cares all that much either. it’s like keeping a lucky penny—  there’s nothing much to it, least of all luck. 

the glass is retrieved and she makes her way over to the couch, setting it down next to the bottle that’s been displayed for the evening. and then she pours and pours, filling the glass while zoe continues on with a a sentence that she’s not sure has a real beginning or a true end, only that it results in a very full glass of wine. finally the point is reached, the bottle recapped on the word cancelled. it’s actually not a bad theory. 

“wow,” she sits down on the couch, as though it’s going to stand in for a heavy sigh, pulling her legs up and reaching for her glass of wine. the last cancellation didn’t get cancelled. what a thought that would be, primed for all sorts of drama. no wonder a publisher pulled it before zoe could even get the word out. the system would just crumble if its foundation betrayed such cracks. “like they got saved? or what happened?”

contracts couldn’t escape on their own. that didn’t mean that it didn’t happen every so often. people could slip away and start a whole new life where they pretended they hadn’t staked their lives on a popularity contest. but they usually had help, and it was at least interesting to know where that was coming from. “it’s not really my department. you know, by the time they’re getting cancelled it’s kind of out of my hands anyways.”

"Oh." She wants to say more, but it's nothing more than what she can feel her face is already voicing in place of her lips. Birdie doesn't smoke, but she's with a pack of cigarettes. They belong to Fabian Bishop, but he's not interested in getting them. "So..." Her mind is still wading through the wine she's already consumed, trying to piece things together on her own and failing. "You're just like holding them for him or something...? Does he have a roomie that doesn't like it?"

The cushions of the couch pucker with the newest addition, Birdie and her own glass joining Zoe and her trampled on story. Christian could have at least given her the decency of asking some questions just like her instead of tossing it out without a moment of consideration. The problem was she didn't have the concrete answers. "I don't really think it was like... saving them..." Her voice was slow, trying to meander through her thoughts in a meaningful way before it sped up in tacked on additions. "Not like, you know, those wild stories about how James Dean is like really living his best life in the Andes or whatever, def not like that! I'm just like... I think it's just kinda interesting how the cancellation went, you know? Totally different from the one Julian Santiago had to do, like that was... that was def without question. Could tell. But I really, really have this gut instinct telling me something's up."

And that was her evidence. Gut instinct. She slumped further into her seat, only moving to take her bottle of strawberry lime margarita back, holding it like it had become a teddy bear. A drinkable toy. "I know," she muttered quietly, mouth pressed against the opening for one short sip. "But I sorta know someone about these things," she went on, "and she did say that someone could survive that kind of impact to the face like that. Def other ways to show a person not moving and not have it be like... deathy. I just don't know the why to get the full story, you know? But it’s def there."

[zoexmarshall]

birdiejennings​:

she tilted her head, trying to puzzle out whether zoe actually meant that she was early or it was just the first thing that had come to mind. maybe she was earlier than usual, who was really to say. it was interesting for a fraction of a moment, that there was some schedule being monitored by her roommate, but it was more likely just the nice thing to say. zoe had a habit of doing that. besides, it seemed given the scenario that she was currently witness to, she was perfectly on time. something to the small mess that had been made on the coffee table that shouted upset in its own way before any words could be added to it. but that was why she’d wanted a roommate, for the strange moments that she could see. 

or participate in as the bottle was held up for her. she wasn’t much of a drinker, she’d seen plenty of people ruin what little empires they were able to build with one drink too many. how when you drank you weren’t thinking clearly, your reflexes grew less sharp. you couldn’t exactly hit a target if you’d had a few shots before. but in this particular apartment, where she knew every corner and zoe was already far on her way to tipsy, it didn’t feel particularly dangerous. she watched orson bat the pack of cigarettes. which way would it fall, heads i drink tails we sleep. the night hung on the whims of a cat for a few brief moments. 

the package hit the ground. the cat looked down with her as if they’d made the pact together. and the steele tobacco logo gleamed in the kitchen lights. “it’s fabian’s.” she scooped it up and put it back in the purse before anything more could be said about it, turning the attention back to zoe. 

“let me grab a glass.” because fate had spoken, and who was she to go back on her word. the wine glasses weren’t exactly easily accessible but she made it work, climbing onto the counter regardless of length of her skirt or possible rip in her tights. “which piece was it?” she was only interested in the ones that zoe tried to keep behind passcoded firewalls, but that didn’t mean that those were the stories that ampersands would refuse to run. it could have been anything, worst of all something that she’d heard about before and should have known to ask about. but she didn’t think so. “i feel like you work on so many.” 

"He... made you buy them...?" She was sewn with confusion, needle threaded between her brows and snatched forward to pull them together like a drawstring. There was no picking a favorite angle in the answer. Either Fabian forgot to take them or he had ordered Birdie to pick them up for him; in either light, there they were, being dominated by a cat face that was mistaking them for a new toy. The pack looked nothing like his play mouse, but there was no limit to Orson's nature. "He's not like coming over or anything to come get them, right?" She hoped not, eyes following after her roommate as she went to get a glass from their kitchen.

Zoe's arms wrapped around the back of their couch before the side of her head slumped against her shoulder, a defeated little motion that wiped out nearly all of the cancellation department in her head. Just not Prometheus. "I mean, I def do. There's like so, so much to pick up on, but like it was the best one," she pouted, leaned further into her skin before sighing. She lingered for a moment longer, unusual silence consuming her as she considered telling Birdie the truth. Maybe it sounded too crazy. But that's what friends were for, right?

"Do you promise not to tell anyone at the office? Like... it's not like it's going to run or anything so I just don't want to, you know, cause any probs when nothing happened, you know what I mean? Like it's already sucky that it didn't get published, but it'd really suck if I got like gatekept or something." Okay, maybe she was rambling at this point, but it just meant a lot! Pitching stories is like bearing your soul and stuff! Not easy. "I... don't know if like... the last cancellation got.... cancelled?"

[zoexmarshall]

rowcnyoung​:

“whole wide world out there.” he laughed too, right along with her own, as though that was the tip off that there was a joke. and it gave her the break on stumbling right into a less than stellar point of conversation. lonely? who was lonely around here? it wasn’t him, that’s all that mattered. but really the thought of leaving the city didn’t intrigue him. there was nothing wrong with it, and he had everything he needed. friends, family, boss that didn’t mind if he showed up to work late now and then. no need to ruin that with the great perhaps. no seeking here. 

especially not about the correlation between cancellation and whatever— which fell under the category of articles that he passed off to someone else. it wasn’t that he couldn’t do it, just he’d rather not. there were other things to write about. like mysterious secretaries and late night rendezvous between directors and their chosen company. “unwinding.” another laugh garnered, another point in her favor. what a word for it, loud music and swearing. the occasional sound of something slamming down on tables. he had a grand idea of her apartment in chaos. but he’d never be able to verify now, that’s how life goes sometimes. “yeah i don’t think that girl knows what it means.” but she was always a fine neighbor, and she went drinking with him and leo just enough times to be considered as less subject and more person. there was a difference in exploitation there. he just felt it. 

“you guys would probably get along. talk about you know…” he gestured to her height as though that would make perfect sense, what more could they have in common other than a perception of the world that was a foot below his. the emoji was finally clicked on, added next to the hastily written zoe m. “nah. gotta feel someone out before you can assign them an emoji. what would the world come to if everyone deserved the cherry blossom?” 

"Yeah, maybe I guess!" She felt her tone rising where it shouldn't, a weird type of question mark hanging in the dust of creation. She knew about Claudia Marshall from her job, always so diligent in the facts and the people that went with them like puzzle pieces, clicking into their places. But did she know Claudia Marshall? No. Maybe one day! To hear Rowan talk, the only thing they'd have in common was their height, or lack there of. She watched as his hand hovered, as if to prove the point; she gave back a slight laugh at him, unsure bubbles popping while others deflated.

"Same last name, too! That's def something! We could like be cousins." Not that it needed to be said that sometimes she banked on the assumption to get in certain buildings on the lots. It was all her own trick, a magic trick, to make it seem less deceitful and more to amaze a boss at the deadline. "Or.. I mean.. hope she keeps it... It's just like a fun little connection thing. I can't really pass as a Santiago, so!" Hopefully he thought that was funny, too. She'd find out one way or another, and what would be the worst thing that could happen? Rowan leaving? Never talk to her again? That'd be... fine. It'd be fine. She had the cherry blossom, after all.

"I pass the vibe check?" she beamed, nudged his arm with her shoulder. "It's kinda special treatment. Feels pretty special. I mean, duh, obvs special. It’s like literally in the name! Not like special special but, so... cool. Just cool. It's okay. I'll take whatever you're giving. With emojis."

[zoexmarshall]

birdiejennings​:

@zoexmarshall​

she entered the apartment noisily, with jangling keys and a phone in hand, platform loafers were kicked off against the wall. scuff marks were for other people to care about after she had moved out. it would never dawn on her to think about asking for her deposit back. it rarely dawned on her that some day she might have to leave. living in the moment as it were. as was her roommate it seemed. although she’d hoped to time her entrance with when zoe was either in bed or working, but tonight was not the night for such luck. that was okay with her, she’d wanted a roommate for the unpredictability of it all, and she was getting exactly that. the television droned on, bathing zoe in a blueish hue, she tried not to take in too many specifics. finally, a greeting remembers to make its way into the thoughts, “hey!”

she set her purse down on the island, the heavy thud of a bag overstuffed with random hand creams and perfume samples, a second phone and pack of cigarettes she’d picked up on a whim. laptop, tiny compact and dangerous, buried closer towards the bottom. orson is the first one to try and get her attention but her gaze hits the wine bottle that had been left out. “are you drinking?” for some people the action might have been commonplace, but she knew enough to say that it wasn’t for her roommate. “everything good?”

Mind-numbing television was all she needed. Maybe half a pint of Phish Food and a bottle of margarita mix for good measure. Anything to keep the nagging sense of opening up the laptop and responding back to the e-mail that made it get closed in the first place. She had been diligent in her research, wrote it up as one of her best, made the deadline with time to spare, and all for nothing. Ampersand was not going to publish what she had brought to the table. Too big, Christian had told her. He wasn't looking to put them out of business, and instead he threw her on covering a C-list premiere as if she had been sent to detention.

Her oversized tee was stretched out over her knees as she sat on the couch. Bachelor in Paradise pooling around her while she held her cup of strawberry and lime concoction. It might have startled her, sitting in the dark with only the tv's soft glow lighting up the room, to hear the door get unlocked, but at least the second helping of Uno Mas was leveling her surprise to a mild one. "Hey, you're back early," she returned, but she didn't know. When was Birdie ever early? When was she ever late? She never had a schedule to be either. Seeing her come closer made her realize the ice cream was still missing a lid, the spoon in its liquid form. Messy. Her legs stretched free of her cat printed shirt, leaning over to slide the water stain away from her half of the furniture. "Uh," she didn't know how to answer, but she was holding the evidence, wasn't she? "Yeah," she admitted quietly before looking back at her. "Do you want some? It's actually really tasty for like nine dollars. Look at how much you get, too." The bottle was held up by the neck, some sad statement in its own right before her lips twisted. Nothing was good. "It's... ugh. So, I worked really super hard on that article and my boss just said to scrap it and now I'm being pushed aside and like what if they're trying to fire me? And Orson is def knocking over your cigarettes..." She paused, slurping her drink as she peered over the rim of the cup, staring at what the furry face was now looking down at. "You don't smoke..."

[zoexmarshall]

love

It’s scary, and you wish you could say you’ve never known the dark corridors and shut doors that line it, but it’d all be a lie. You know that door number one led to a tiny room with no windows. The wallpaper was tearing at the seams, falling down in sheets. It sucks because it looked really good on your iPhone when your friend sent you the picture, but you still stepped inside, anyway. You stayed there for awhile, even when it got smaller every day until you were pushed out, back into the hall, the door locking behind you. You opened door number two without a key at all, easily it flung open and it stayed that way. You smiled until you took a step forward to notice there was no floor. Some days you still have to stop yourself from looking over your shoulder at it. How bad could a fall like that be? Every time, you remember how your heart stopped, and it shakes you into looking straight ahead, except that one time at that party that we don’t talk about. It can be a terrifying place, but you had a night light as a kid; you learned that shadows are not monsters; the boogeyman might just need a friend. Oh, it can be petrifying! But maybe one day it’ll be exhilarating.

[zoexmarshall]

birdiejennings​:

she liked playing this game with zoe. who was interviewing who, what information could be trusted— trying to find an angle into the questions that she really wanted to be asking without trying to seem too interested. lighting upon a topic that she knew had taken up more than an hour or two of time allotted to researching stories. there wasn’t really a wrong thing to say, not when there was a clear angle to what zoe was hoping she would say. did she think he was interesting? neat? mysterious? did she know anything about him at all outside of title? she looked around for a coin that might have been left out; heads he’s the boss’s boss, tails they’re romeo and juliet. micah bates did not work in her favor it seemed, all that was left were a few screws.

 too bad, the question hung in the air waiting for her to give up her position. too bad, all that extra talking gave her the out— her opinion of him was in the end, just a shrug. “i don’t think he drinks coffee.” come to think of it she didn’t think she’d ever seen him eat or drink much of anything. fueled on nicotine, and some old testament need for violence. hang around him enough and the smell of smoke would twist into the fabric of her sweater. cashmere was dry clean only she reasoned. “but he is pretty business focused.” depending on what someone considered prometheus to be in business for. she was torn between philosophy and body farm. she didn’t like either of them very much, but she decided she would stick around for an answer. she didn’t really think about her “i’ve only really seen him in his office.” 

each word zoe added on piqued her curiosity, the parents were humanitarians— philanthropists, and their son spent his time handing young girls loaded guns. what in the world had he said about nature and nurture, what had gone wrong. “why wouldn’t he remember them?” there wasn’t a raise in her voice, not the kind that gave away it was information that she was now searching for; at least not in the same way that zoe made apparent. she hardly considered herself sly, wielding sentences with less scalpel precision than that of a steak knife. not so messy as an axe, but still obvious to see the slice coming. “don’t tell me they died.”

"Oh." She processed. Sebastian Steele was suspected not to be a coffee lover by Birdie. Put the pieces together, Zoe! "Oh, really, huh? So, like... tea?" Don't be suspicious. Don't glance over at her. You'll lose your hand altogether! But she was curious. Obviously not about the drinking; that was for sure mundane, but it was what it implied. If Birdie knew those little bitty details about a man so mysterious that no one knew anything about, there was definitely something there. That was just journalism 101! Maybe she had only just seen him in his office, but maybe that wasn't all the truth either! What did seen even mean! "Have you seen him a lot there?" Her eyes met her finally, knowing to cover her tracks with a follow up. "Just trying to gauge a good time to like casually drop in or something."

But at least she had a leg up on one thing. She was proud of that, too. And yet a part of her wondered if she was maybe stepping out of line. If she was right about one possible theory then she was totally telling a story that should have been told by Sebastian Steele himself to her. You know. When he was ready.

She bit her lower lip in contemplation, but it was briefly held, softened by the way she tried to downplay it with a shrug of her shoulders. "I mean..." her voice trailed off, growing soft into non-communication until her gaze met her roommate again. "It must have been really rough for him. Growing up without them and stuff. Like, as far as I could figure out, he's def an only child, too, so you know. That's extra rough. But I guess he's doing okay, right? Seems like a lot worked out for him! Has he been a pretty chill boss, anyways?"

[zoexmarshall]

birdiejennings​:

if it was a different employee, she might have left well enough alone instead of pushing at zoe to go against her first judgement. but she had it on decidedly good authority that micah bates was not going to escalate the situation with human resources, nor consider it much of an invasion of privacy. what had their interactions been if not him seeking out friends where ever they might hide. even a journalist could fall under terminology that broad, file of non-disclosures next to it had little to do with the potential of a new relationship. what a world they found themselves in. she watched as zoe took the post-it note to leave whatever note she saw fit, a small butterfly effect that might play out in any number of ways as far as she was concerned. “she does like vintage.” a surface level statement of eloise bardot, but weren’t they all?

“is he?” she was always careful about the emotions that might play across her face, after years of watching sam carefully moderate his own expressions she found that she could almost do the same. almost. still she gave way to some entertainment, a smirk easily playing out at the description zoe was describing. sure he was, black suits and a dour expression. what more was there when he wouldn’t entertain the public, just the mystery. “i thought you’d be kind of…intimidated by him.” face tipped to the side thoughtfully, as though she were seeing her roommate in a new light. although it wouldn’t be strictly the case— what was the line, not that zoe had changed, but rather provided something useful. who knew the steeles were anti-cancellation. and what did hat mean for the son so hell-bent on shooting innocent civilians. 

“i guess i didn’t even think he had parents.” she had names and birth certificates, but the next level of mimeographs and phone calls had eluded her interest. until just this moment, where the facts that were lining up didn’t exactly fit the picture that she had. that’s when it was more fun. that’s why there was the promise of coffee and cinnamon rolls, and all the small band-aids for living normal life. because sometimes, zoe said the interesting thing. “they were anti-cancellation, huh. really?”

"You don't think so?" Genuine question. Ask her private pinterest board if you didn't believe her. A lot hinged on Birdie's answer when it came down to the conspiracies that were pinned together in various sections. She tried not to make the same face she'd give any other person she was interviewing, but there was that fluttering curiosity beating its wings in her chest. Her roommate's own question made it easier if it ever needed to be concealed, smiling with an exaggerated shrug, hands in the air with the sticky note still trailing after her fingertips. "I don't know! I think he's kinda neat lowkey, I mean... I haven't met him! So, totally could be a different story if I ever find the right way to get him. He... kinda doesn't go out? Like... I've never seen him in the coffee shops or like.. anywhere. Have to admit it adds to the whole mystery vibe."

What was the whole point of coming all the way from Virginia to California just to not go anywhere! Must have been a workaholic or something. That or she just wasn't looking in the right locations for a candid time. He couldn't possibly wear a suit all the time, and there was no way that he didn't laugh once in awhile! "What do you think of him? Like you've met him..." She knew she had. She had to have. In her heart, it was more than just a casual introduction. Had to be!

Gradually, Zoe's shifted back to the note, peeling the neon orange flap from her digits before beginning to write. She listened, too. Great multi-tasker. "Oh," she started, pen jotting her words down before giving another laugh and glance up. "Right! Everyone has parents. We just like never think a whole lot about them or something. I get you. It's like it... normalizes him? It's like whoever the head of Prometheus is is kinda like a... god or.. maybe that's a little extreme, but you get what I'm saying." Besides, who were Birdie's parents? Who were they really? She felt it in her bones they didn't share the same Jennings name. Just a wild guess. "Really really," she answered with pride as she clicked the pen, standing up straight and beaming. Star pupil. Just doing great at her job in general. "Humanitarian philanthropist types. Really don't think he has many memories of them if any, so it's 100% possible it didn't really rub off on him? Pretty sad story."

[zoexmarshall]

tomas-visser​:

Tomas paused as his kind raced to make sense until it finally clicked, "oh, hypocrite,” he nodded at the understanding, but then it clicked again, “You’re saying I’m a hypocrite?” Tomas couldn’t help the frown that appeared and tried to justify, “I mean.. I just– I had a reason.” He really wouldn’t be doing this if he didn’t have to. Ade’s just bored. Or well.. she refused to say anything more of why she’s even here, even with his light probing. “She just.. doesn’t have to do this. Ugh, I guess I am..”

It was a continuously hilarious thought trying to imagine his brother stumbling through in front of the camera trying to do stunts, as he was sure it was just as funny for Skylar to imagine his little brother to the same. “He’ll fall over on his face doing stunts, but I’d watch that.” He shrugged, an amused smiled growing, “we get the genes from our dad for sure.” An odd pair, their parents, and yet they somehow always made it work.

Every word the left Tomas’ mouth seem to make it worse, tripping over every thing and falling flat on his face, yet he had to try, “no– I mean.. we worked together, back in Paris- in the same restaurant.” Don’t say anymore. Tomas didn’t want to look up at Zoe as he bore his eyes down onto the drink he went back to hold, slowly accepting that it got out, and it was his fault. His heart hurt as Zoe continues, not wanting to be reminded of the dumb things he’s done, one night stand aside, all in the name of falling head over heels and then completely stabbed. His expression darkened, only managing small words through gritted teeth in attempts to continue dissuasion, “it was… it’s fine. It doesn’t matter anymore, no matter how long.” Tomas could feel the panic bubble up in his chest, wondering all the things that could go wrong with an article like that. He stewed in those thoughts for a long silent pause before he finally glanced up to Zoe, “are you gonna publish that..?”

Zoe's eyes immediately widened the moment Tomas called her out. Hypocrite was def /not/ the word of the day! "Oh! No, no! For sure not! For sure! Was totally not what I meant! I mean I get where you would have come to that. It makes a lot of sense, but I mean, it's like... not where I was going with that! Like not even close!" Well, maybe a little. Not intentionally! That's what mattered while she had the time to bite on her lower lip, listening instead of talking for once. Though, it didn't last for long, jumping on top of his words the second it felt right. "I get it! You're just being like protective and stuff! That's what a good brother does!" She wouldn't know. She wouldn't even know what a good sister was, really. Her fault on that one, actually. Her shoulders drooped. "Sorry about all that... I really didn't mean anything by it. I guess what I was trying to say was, you know," she took a breath, "sometimes brothers and sisters are just gonna do whatever. And it's like no matter what you do, they're just... going to do their own thing. It's just like the way of things. So, I mean, if she wanted to be a contract with you, it's not like the /worst/ thing. Maybe she just... looks up to you or something."

Could be! Family dynamics sure were different behind closed doors, or in this case, behind the scenes. She wouldn't be a journalist if she wasn't interested in the truth, sifting through painted perception and going for the core. She let it pass with Skylar. Enough said on that one, not wanting to embarrass herself any further. Their dad, on the other hand, she knew only a handful of facts. The only hitch was that those facts were also known to anyone who bothered to watch that season of Masterchef. "How is he, by the way? Your dad, I mean?" What else was there to say? Even that line of questioning made her shift a little.

It was easier ground to stand on when it came to Gabriel Boucher. He was the fairest game there was when it came to Tomas. She nodded along while he explained, following along to a timeline she already knew about, only the admission being confirmation to a theory she had been working on. The question took her aback, like an earthquake to that solid ground. "Oh, uhm.. which... part?" she asked timidly, faking ignorance lamely while she held onto her mocha cup like a raccoon being newly exposed. "It's not like it's your fault! You're not in the wrong here. Was really rude of him because like wasn't that when your mom..." She paused cautiously, staring at him and then at the exit before returning to him. "I just... the timing kinda adds up is all... Which totally makes him not in the right! And it would totally look for the best on you!"