ᴛʜᴇ ᴩʀᴏᴩᴏѕᴀʟ!ᴀᴜ // Kingofstolenhearts & Yukionnamonet

kingofstolenhearts:

It was the sun hitting his face that awoke him that morning, not the alarm, which he was sure he set, but there it was, blinking 12:00 innocently as if those numbers meant absolutely everything was going to be okay~!

Hint: It wasn’t.

According to the watch on his bedside table, he had an hour, to not only get from his apartment to work, but he had to get showered and dressed, AND pick up his boss’s morning coffee along the way. From happy groggy eyed sleepy sleeper, to instantly alert and darting around his apartment getting ready, Law managed to get out of the house with half an hour to spare. Which of course meant he’d get stuck, at the back of the line, at Starbucks.

Fuck you very much morning commuters.

Had he been a bad person in a past life? It sort of felt like that as he stared at the 50-something people somehow waiting in line inside the somewhat small corner Starbucks.

< “Law!“ >

That was his name, someone, at the front somewhere, was calling his name, was he that recognisable in the crowd? Quickly pushing through the crowd, ignoring the yells of impatient customers, A figurative ray of light shone down on the barrister calling out his name: Perona, the pinkette that always worked the morning shifts, young, nasally voice, and slightly up herself, but saviour of the morning holding two coffees in both hands with his name on them.

He could marry that girl right there and then. “Literally just saved my ass thank you” he quickly paid for both drinks, dumping the generous amount of change in her jar of tips and carefully dashed out of the shop for work, completely missing the message on his cup, asking him to call her, with a phone number scribbled haphazardly on the cup.

Not that he’d ever have time to call a girl with his schedule.

Dodging traffic and the mass of on-foot commuters, Law managed to make it to work -New World Publishing- minutes before his boss, rushing through the doors, ignoring the snippy comments about how close he was cutting it, he was in a rush right now, all he had to do was make it to that harpy of a woman’s office before her with morning coffee in-hand and intact and he’d be all clear.

He heard it before he saw it the office wide ‘ding’ of a messenger alert on everyone’s computers, secretary warning everyone on that floor, witch flying in on her broom ETA: 1 minute. She was in the lift. Time to speed up, just a few more yards and SAFE. Unfortunately he didnt exactly account for the mail kid popping up out of nowhere like he usually did causing an epic collision of coffee.

Fucking little fuck.

“God-DAMMIT, Ussop!!“ he yelped, scalding hot non-fat soy latte drenching his previously perfectly clean white shirt. < “S-sorry, Law” > he wheeled that cart away as fast and as quietly as he came, leaving Law scrambling for a clean shirt, he still had his cup, he could give that to her it was the same damn coffee, he’d hoped to never have to use that back up plan but hey it was there for a reason.

“Shachi!“ he yelled, rushing over to the red-heads cubicle, eyes darting back to the office doors, where he could just make out the lift outside counting up floors "—I need your shirt, right now, don’t ask questions, shirt, now, i’ll give you 50 beli for it” damn thing wasn’t even worth ten but it’d fit him, that was all that mattered right there. The red head barely had a chance to object in between Law’s demands, giving in after the offer was made and quickly swapping shirts with the tan male.

Lift dinged, staff jumped to their cubicles, appearing super busy, busier than any office at 8am, and through those doors walked the dreaded Harpy of the office, right as Law disappeared through her office doors to wait as though he’d been there for at least half an hour. Nobody had to know. Nobody.

Evening out his breathing, Law appeared calm and collected as the door opened, hand outstretched with his coffee to hand it to her.

“Mornin boss, you have a conference call in ten minutes“ He greeted ”and a staff meeting at nine“ always prepared with her itinerary so she needn’t be late with anything. Ah the joys of being an Executive Assistant to one of the most respected editors in the country. 

Running 8 miles on the treadmill ☑

Showering and getting hair done ☑

Getting ready for work ☑

Breakfast. ☑

Try to be less cold and heartless ☐

      Monet left her apartment exactly at el 6:40 a.m., with her iPhone on her hand. It was brought to her ear as she engaged in a conversation with Rayleigh, one of the best autors she had ever had the pleasure to work with. As she walked towards the Hachette Livre building. The goal before her morning coffee? 

       Getting Rayleigh to go to Oprah’s show.

— ❝ But Rayleigh, everybody does publicity…And I’m not pushing so you sell more books, I am pushing because it would be a crime if the world doesn’t hear that you wrote a genious piece of literature—- Yes? Ufufuf, that’s perfect. I’m getting into the elevator and I think I’m going to lose you… I’ll call you later.❞ 

And she hanged up, with a smile playing on her lips. Those were great news, and they also meant she had to fire someone incompetent. She ignored how the people avoided her and their looks of fear when she strode out of the elevator on her So Kate Python Louboutins. 

Monet found it somewhat amusing how they feared her if she were to be completely honest. She just gave polite nods when people greeted her good morning as she walked through the cubicles. 

As she stepped in her office she found Law standing at attention. The ghost of a smile appeared on her lips as she got the coffee.

— ❝ Cancel the call and move the meeting to eight.  

                       I got Rayleigh to do publicity. — Is Ceaesar here?❞ 

        Monet sat on her seat, giving a sip to her coffee, but something caught her attention. The name written on the cup with hearts. She looked at the coffee cup and then at Law, smiling, amused. 

         

  — ❝ Who’s Perona and why does she want me to call her?❞