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Someone is doing paperwork he should have done a week ago, checking…

Norman Osborn

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Citizen Norman
Someone is doing paperwork he should have done a week ago, checking stocks and figures, reading between the lines of correspondance and ordering it all into the neat stacks.  What can be trusted, who, where?  Someone is doing this paperwork because it needs to be done. 

Not because he's avoiding anything.
  • Of course not. And Amber hasn't been hiding, either -- she's just been at work, then out in the city. All day, and into the evening, trying to figure out what to say to him...

    And now she's back, with a box and a nervous, uncertain look on her face as she raps lightly on the doorframe.

    "...Norman?"
    • He looks up, gestures her in with a nod. Shh, just a moment, he's tallying something. Influence, votes.
      • She frowns a little, feeling terribly small, and comes inside to wait for him to finish. The box smells like fruit, and powdered sugar.
        • It's not long. Just long enough for him to make her wait a bit. Petty, Norman, petty. But he smiles to see her, at least, rising to kiss her check.

          "Evening, love."
          • Of course he is. He's an Osborn. She ducks her head at the kiss, still showing her contrition. "Can we talk? I brought turnovers."
            • "We probably should." On the couch, though? Away from the desk.
              • Oh the couch, then. She sets the box on the coffee table, opens it -- to the tune of a half-dozen fresh turnovers, none of which she takes for herself -- and sits, and waits for him to say something.
                • He tastes one, to all appearances in a mild, quiet mood.

                  And waits for her to say something. >,>
                  • Oh, @%#$ you, Osborn. She's trying to feel guilty here. :p

                    "...are you upset?"
                    • "I'd be ridiculously hypocritical if I were."

                      Translation: Yes.
                      • "I walked in on them, Norman. I didn't start it, I didn't ask for it." There's an unpleasant little implication there, oh yes, if he reads between the lines for it.
                        • "You don't seem upset." She certainly didn't when she got home.
                          • Nngh! "Because I'm not upset. And I'm sorry if you are, but they're still Greek gods. You want to be the one to refuse them?" Glare. Pout. >_> "...and besides, there's a hell of payoff."
                            • Just a flicker of a scowl. He... probably wouldn't have refused them either. At least not more than a token try. But she's his fiancee, dammit. "What sort of payoff?"
                              • Amber grins, and leans close to whisper in his ear.
                                • Upset fades into curiousity, as he listens, and outright interest. And as he considers it, a slow, small smile.

                                  "That's... quite the plan."
                                  • "Ain't it?" She curls around him, smiling. Yes? "They already adore us both. With how powerful they'll be after this, and the favours that can be called in..." Well. He should be able to see the possibilities. Isn't that worth a night missing your fiancee?
                                    • He strokes her hair, still turning the idea over. "It would be considerable leverage, for anything we might need." Oh, the ideas. So many. Almost worth seeing her come home the way she did today.
                                      • She twists to kiss him. "Exactly." And shen she smirks, that wickedly teasing quirk to her lips. "And if there's a next time, I'll be sure to invite you along." Poor lonely Ulti.
                                        • He kisses her back, and rolls his eyes. "Even just a warning might have been nice." But invites would not be turned down, no.
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