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Juliet Kazimiera Frédéric
female, straight
•••••
twenty two years young
standing five feet three inches
close to one-hundred sixteen
sparkling blue eyes
wavy orange red

•••••

Calm, quiet, rigid.
Loud, cheerful, outspoken, naive, thoughtful. She tends to run every option of the situation over in her head before making any decisions. She can be over dramatic, but normally only in a teasing way.

She adores Rocky Horror Picture Show, and is a LGBTQ activist. Her wardrobe also tends to be very colorful.

•Arcturus Sinclair•

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Sevastian Pistol Gardern
male, straight
•••••
twenty six years under the belt
standing just under six feet
close to one-hundred fifty
dreamy green eyes
curly dirty blonde

•••••

Sensitive, sweet, caring.
Obnoxious, rude, rebellious, charming, cocky. Tends to be a bit unrealistic at times and often makes things more dramatic then they need to be.

He hates elevators and throws a fit when he has to ride in them.

•Wavi•

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Juliet had been working at the company since she was nineteen, and she was now twenty two. In those two years, she managed to work her way up to the manager of her department, due to--in her opinion, anyway--luck. She didn't see it as skill, only luck, due to the short time period. She knew she was odd. Come on, now, a person with her style of dress and hair color working in an office? It'd be nuts. And she knew that. But, she was here. And not going anywhere.

Currently she was sitting at her desk, typing. She flipped the page of notes she had and went back to typing. Today she was wearing a bright blue suit top with a bright red skirt. She also had one a good deal of beaded bracelets, four on each arm. She hummed classical music under her breath as she worked, not really enjoying it. But, who would enjoy typing things up? She sighed as she typed, trying to type faster and be done. Her desk phone rang after a few more lines and she sighed in relief, snatching it up.

"Frédéric speaking," she answered. That was her habitual answer, even at home. She listened for a moment before speaking again. "I'll be right down. Second floor, correct?" She was on the third floor. After she got the correct office number, she hung up and headed out of her office, shutting the door on her way out. As she walked towards the elevators, she saw an office she believed to be empty with its light on. Confused, she went to the door and peeked in...

Drumming his hands on the glass surface of the conference desk, Sevastian's impatience began to wither up to nothing. It was twenty-three minutes past the start of the meeting. It was bad enough that it had been postponed for what... the seventh time. Grumbling, his fingers danced over to the black conference room phone. Sliding his hands across the buttons, he typed in the number to the redhead that usually scheduled all his meetings.

"Hey. Umm. Would you mind coming down to the conference room. I need your assistance immediately." Tossing the phone on the stand, his hands moved up to his face. Massaging his sore cheeks, his hands drew up higher toward his hairline. Exhaling, he hit the intercom button. "Juliet... would you mind grabbing me a strong black tea? Thanks." Dropping his head on the table, he stared blankly at the white walls. It seemed to bright in the room, but Sevastian's depressed expression would make others think otherwise.

Business was slow. No one was upholding their side of the bargain. It was beginning to both Sevastian that his contacts were failing to meet his high-pedestal standards. Moaning, he thumped his head against the clear table a few times, causing a red mark to appear on his forehead. "I hate my life...." he grumbled as he heard the door slide open. "Juliet. Why? Why are people so... unreliable. Why can't the world be full of wonderful people like yourself?"