The chill of winter is baring its teeth one last time before spring. It's cold, and there are snow flurries in the air. Of course, the flakes melt as soon as they hit the ground, but it doesn't matter to the temperature. Desiree has been taking advantage of her day off and running errands. All kinds of errands, including one to the AVL. It's another cause she believes in, and stops by every now and then to see if there's anything she can do to help further the cause of Life-Challeneged people. The wool dress she wears was fine during the day, but now that it's evening, she wishes she'd brought along a coat. As the door closes behind her, she takes a moment to brush a few flakes from her hair, and catch her breath. At least it's warm inside the AVL's offices.
Like usual Jeremiah can be found behind his desk. Several dozen books are piled atop it, all pertaining to new laws and legal studies. There is one that is propped open which is currently being perused by the twenty-something looking man. His hair is tousled, he's in rather casual looking clothing, and he's busy keeping his head down so that he's not handed more work to do. The weather outside has no bearing on his demeanor; this is just who Jeremiah is. Silent, brooding, and hidden. The only move he bothers to make at all is to glance up when the wash of cold air enters the building near his desk. His eyes fall upon the woman for a mere scant second. Then it appears he is back to the book.
Perhaps it's unfortunate there is no one else immediately apparent in the reception area. Desiree looks around, eyes falling on the young man with the books. Catching his lifted eyes and return to the books, she frowns just a little. It's fairly obvious he doesn't want to be disturbed, but she's there for a reason. Taking steps to the desk where he sits, she automatically sits down in the chair opposite. "Good evening," is said in a soft, cultured voice. "I'm Desiree DeVilliers, and I'm here to see if there's anything I should be doing for the AVL." As if that will explain everything-which it probably doesn't-so she adds, "I was in the last AVL commercial, and was told there'd likely be more work for me this month." There. Everything explained. If this young man can't help her, then maybe he can send her to someone who can. "You are…?"
"Busy." Jeremiah isn't meaning to be rude, but he's also not out to make friends. When it doesn't seem as though she'll be talking to anyone else, his brow furrows. The book is snapped shut, and he turns to face the computer. "Spell the name." He's not about to attempt just randomly typing it in to the database. "I don't handle commercials or public relations. "You are likely looking to speak with MacKeirnan, or Baker." The only two people involved in the American Vampire League that he is aware of who handle PR.
Desiree doesn't usually take kindly to being dismissed in such a fashion, but she swallows her mild annoyance, spelling the name as requested. "First name is Desiree, middle initial A," she tells the young man—-who still hasn't bothered to identify himself. "I understand you're busy, but you also happen to be the only person out here, in case you haven't noticed," she says, trying to explain why she's choosing to bother him. "NacKeirnan or Baker. Can you tell me if either of them is in?" she asks, still polite.
The letters are punched in quietly, quickly, and efficiently. Jeremiah turns the screen toward her so that she can see the profile and verify if it is in fact hers, or belongs to another with a similar name. "The receptionist stepped out for a bite," he says, a quirky smile offered. One can be left to surmise just what type of bite she stepped out for. "One moment." The screen if flipped back toward himself as he presses a few more keys. "Both are out for the evening. Was there a specific type of work you were looking to aid with?"
"Well, I'm a model and an actress, so most of the work I've done for the AVL has been in the venue of commercials, but I'm willing to do other things, as well. My last classes end at nine, so I'm free for work after that—-envelope stuffing, answering phones, that kind of thing. I'm very versatile, as the old song says." Her own smile reflects humor, since she obviously got his joke. "I'm sure I listed all that in my file when I first answered the casting call. I believe everyone has rights, not just a chosen few."
"Interesting," he replies, making it sound as though it's really not interesting at all. Jeremiah moves the mouse to flip her profile back up. It is scanned rather quickly. "Are you bondable?" He can't make use of her in his little paralegal-isms if she's not. "There are always telephones to be answered upstairs. I believe the public relations people have set up certain scripted answers you can offer to people. I rarely go up there."
"Yes, I'm bondable," Desiree replies. "I used to work for my father delivering contracts and such, so I had to be bonded. Bids are considered private and the courier has to be trustworthy," she continues. "I have kept the bond, and my notary public license, though that's up for renewal, and I was thinking of letting it go." Her head tilts to one side, and she studies Jeremiah a moment. "So, what is your name? I like to know with whom I'm speaking. It makes things easier in the long run." She nods regarding the scripted answers. "That makes sense. Same answer from everyone, no chance for mistakes or disinformation being handed about."
"Renew it," Jeremiah says, eyes never leaving the computer screen. "Send the bill to the office, and I'll make sure that it gets paid." Rather than telling her his name, he points to the card holder on his desk, tapping it once or twice. His name is written upon each card: Jeremiah Johnson - Paralegal. "Scripted responses are droll, but it prevents misinformation or legal actions which does make the job all the more easy."
Desiree's brows lift slightly at the words which are tantamount to an order, but she doesn't say anything save, "Very well. It does come in handy now and then, I admit." She blushes slightly at the tapping of his name card, and seems a bit embarrassed she didn't notice. "I'm sorry, Mr. Johnson. I should've been more observant. I've been in such a rush to get everything done today, I forgot my manners." She smooths her dress down over her lap, reaching for her purse. "I also came for a second reason, which is to see if there's any rule or law preventing the AVL from taking out an ad in, say, a dance recital program. It's also a benefit for the Dallas Wildlife Preservation Company, which rescues, cares for and relocates wildlife in and around the Dallas/Ft. Worth area. A very worthy cause, and I'd like to know if the AVL /can/ take out such an ad. Legally, I mean. I don't want to bother if it's against the rules."
The man's focus is solely on the computer screen. A few quick taps of the keys, and then something begins to print out on a nearby networked printer. "Don't stress over it. It's a business card." While it appears he's ignoring her as he rolls back in his chair and moves toward the printer, vampire hearing is very astute and each word falls to him easily enough. "Leave the paperwork on my desk, and I will have your answer tomorrow night. Depending on the legalities of it, and what public relations wishes to do, you will have a print copy by the next evening."
Digging into her purse, Desiree produces a letter and a listing of prices for ad space. She also attaches a brochure for her dance studio, with a blurb about the dance recital coming in April. "Thank you, Mr. Johnson," she says, placing the papers on his desk as requested. "My phone number is on the attached business card, but let me leave my cell number in case I'm running errands." She pulls out a pen, then writes a number on the card beneath the office number. "I appreciate you helping me with this, and I'll be sure to renew the notary's licence. Should I send the bill to your attention?" she asks, standing.
"Please do. While I don't have any sway over the accounting department, there are times when a daytime notary will come in handy for my department." The legal department that is. "So I will personally see to it that you are compensated for any costs that are incurred to you." Jeremiah takes the information. His desk drawer is slid open, and he takes a bright blue folder from it. The information is stored neatly inside, the business card attached to the outside with a rubber-covered paperclip. With a black permanent marker he neatly writes: ATTN PR DEPT, across the front of the folder and sets it into his outbox. "It is my job," he replies to her appreciation.
"It might be your job, but appreciation is never amiss," Desiree tells Jeremiah with a smile. "That's what Grandmother O'neil taught us kids, and woe betide us if we didn't offer thanks for something. The habit kind of stuck." A hand is held out, offering to shake his hand. "I can see where that would be handy, yes. I just received the renewal paperwork, so I can get right on that." If her hand is taken, she'll give it a firm shake. If not, well, she'll just look kind of foolish, and eventually let her hand drop. "Good day, then, Mr. Johnson."
The hand is given a rather amused look. "We don't shake hands," Jeremiah notes. "The proper greeting or farewell is a nod." The words are not a chastisement, merely a minor correction, one that many in the building make on a nightly basis. "Before you ask, I don't know why this is the case. It's just what it is." He's never been told any differently, so it's his belief. "It was a pleasure Ms. DeVilliers. I will see to it that the public relations office is given your new hours so that they can get in touch with you as well."
Desiree retracts her hand, blinking. "Oh… well, then," she says, nodding politely. "I've learned something new." She seems pleased about that, and her smile is nothing short of brilliant. Sincere, as well, not one of those vapid model smiles. "A pleasure for me, as well, Mr. Johnson." She reaches down, plucking one of his business cards from the holder. "I'm sure we'll meet again sometime, so until then, good night." With a final nod of her head, she turns, heading for the door. At least her car isn't parked far away and she won't get too cold.
