Jaager Worldwide did, in fact, have a roof. Yes, you could bribe the janitor to give you a key to the very top of the skyscraper so you could hang out. Yes, you did need to sweet talk the elevator god, and yes, you did need to do a couple of other things that complicated the whole thing far more than simply taking someone out to Jimmy Johns, or bringing them to the nearest JW employee break room. But the employee break room was boring, and it smelled like fish. And this was better. Seriously.

It takes a lot of work to sneak up on somebody when they're at a desk facing a doorway, staring right at you. He wait d until she was answering a call, then plopped the bag and drink carrier down on the desk in front of her. He'd had to be fast. Had to nail the perfect swoop into the room, and surprise her while she was busy.

There was fresh coffee in the drink trays, four of them, one for each potential flavor craving, in decaf or regular. And it smelled amazing. The bag had a couple of good sandwiches in them. What kind? Imagine your favorite sandwich in the world, and it was that. His was an Italian grinder. Lots of peppers. Easy on the onions. He'd made an educated guess as to what Rebecca's favorite sandwich would be, and hoped he'd gotten it right. Since she was busy on the phone, he'd anticipated this very situation, and had written "when's break?" On a post it and stuck it on the outside of the bag facing her.

Breaks actually matter, when you work at a place. Being a secretary is hard work. Being a fake intern at JW and making appearances just to scratch an itch, you set your own breaks and fake your own gofer scenarios. You have a lot of free time to plot stuff like lunch or things for Ragnarok, or make up jobs an intern might do. Hell, he'd even actually done some intern work, holy crap. This is a chaos faction with a fake cover story about you being an intern, Elliott, he'd reasoned. What's more chaotic than actually suddenly doing the job you don't actually have? Next he'd do something even more crazy, like vote in elections or pay taxes. Though that first one would be difficult. He'd never registered to vote. 

Rebecca was busy typing up the remainder of some minutes on the "inclusion committee" of JW. Every company had to have them, and the people there were all pretty keen to get everything going. Were their policies better than some other companies? Yes. Did anyone complain about lack of inclusion? No, not that people were made aware of anyway. The committee had disbanded as quickly as possible, with the rotund Chair, Mr Norman-Mangager of Stationary Aquisitions, grumbling his way through the minutes at a record pace. Too quick for even a competent secretary to write down fast enough, so she was having to rely on a degree of memory.

Mr Norman in all fairness had told her that so long as it looked like everyone was doing the right thing on their inclusion committee, it was fine. Just assign a couple of the contributions from the Chair to the people that were half asleep, and then no-one needed to worry about anything. "So long as the gist is there, we won't have the state breathing down our necks about it." Was his message to her. She acted appropriately. It wasn't Rebecca's place to question the logic, and besides, JW was pretty good for inclusion in her mind anyway, particularly with the number of obvious mutants that hung about the place.

The phone rang as she was beginning to finish off -
"Mr Norman's office, how can I help you?"
A rather embarrassed American voice answered back
"Ah, yeah, it's Jeff Rhodes from R&D again"
She rolled her eyes. This was getting ridiculous now.
"Don't tell me they've eaten all the paper again. Because we have a limited budget here as it is." She said in a somewhat annoyed tone.
"Umm, this time it was a fire manipulator who ...had the hiccups"
"I'll patch you through to his phone." Again. Magnus Norman would be able to handle it. He had spouted off about R&D more than once. When were they going to get it into their heads that their resources were finite? It was bad enough about Utopia, which was an utter disaster, they didn't need unnecessary expenses. Rebecca suspected that Norman would most likely be telling them where to shove their new pencils...in the politest way possible of course.

She was surprised to see a tray of coffee and a bag on the desk, with Elliot standing in front of her. She flushed a little and smiled, but didn't giggle too hard. He was being rather spontaneous. "When's break?" read the post-it note. Rebecca checked the time....it was in about 15 minutes.

"What's in the bag then?" She said curiously. Maybe it was lunch. It was probably lunch. JW Cafeteria did some decent sandwiches after all.

Clever girl. She had patched the call in to someone else so she could handle the whole conversation they were having without having to do it in post it notes or mime a word. Side note. A little disappointing. She could have the whole conversation without having to do it in post it notes or mime a word.

In answer to her question, Elliott turned the bag so the front side was facing her, instead of the side side, the side upon which the post it note was stuck. Wow. That was like four sides in one thought. Five. The front of the white bag had the famous JJ in a circle, the company symbol for the Jimmy Johns sandwich place. "Sandwiches." He smiled at her. "And little bags of chips. I guessed at what you like, and got something I like, so we could trade if I was way off. Hope I was close. You didn't answer my question, though. Want to eat lunch together when you go on break?"

She had not said when her break was, but lunch breaks usually happen around lunch time unless your company is the Devil. According to his internal clock, lunch time was in about 14 minutes. That clock, by the way, was his stomach. If the Devil disagreed with his stomach, they could fight it out. He had it on good authority that his stomach would win. Hard to lose against something that doesn't exist. Though on the flip side, hard to win against it, too... huh. Guess that's what philosophers call a quandary. Or maybe a paradox? Paradox, Elliott decided. Paradox.

"About 14 minutes now" Rebecca answered Elliott's question about her lunch break. She was getting pretty hungry by now, after all she often had to scoff breakfast down at the last minute. Getting up on time still wasn't a strong point. Hopefully her boss wouldn't come down at the last minute, grumbling about R&D and asking her to put in a phone call because he needed to do yet another budgetary request...

"Well provided you didn't get any sandwiches with too much spice in them" She couldn't stand the Chicken Tikka. "I think we should be fine". Her favorite of course was the BLT, but they ran out quickly. Everyone knew you had to get there pretty early in order to get one. That and their pork and apple were simply heaven in sandwich form.

"So yes, lunch would be great." Hopefully he was a gentleman and she wouldn't be asked to pay for the sandwich after the fact, particularly if he was way off. Everyone thought she liked spice because she was from Texas, aside from BBQ rib, that wasn't really the case.

14 minutes. Just like he'd thought. Perfect! That just meant waiting 14 minutes.

She didn't like spicy, so it was good he hadn't picked two Italian grinders. Some people found hot peppers and Italian deli meats to be spicy. He supposed it had to do with the whole nose issue. He didn't really have an outstanding schnozz, like some. His was more interior than exterior, which might have influenced how he understood flavors. That was food for thought.

He smiled at her acceptance of lunch. "I'm glad I chose something simple," Elliott laughed. "I like spicy stuff, so I got myself an Italian. But I wasn't certain, so I hedged my bets. Got the BLT for you. I mean, who doesn't like bacon? You'd have to be some sort of alien. Or, I guess, someone whose religion doesn't allow them to eat pork." He added the last one thoughtfully, tapping his chin with a finger. Religions like that were fine, he GUESSED, but he loved bacon. It wasn't so much the details of religious beliefs there that he didn't agree with. It was more that he didn't like limitations on his diet. And bacon was heavenly, so... but if people disagreed with that sentiment, they could believe whatever they liked! That was kind of the basis on which America was founded. He could respect other people for believing other things. That was their deal, not his.

Elliott grabbed a coffee at random and drank. Mocha. Caffeine goodness. "Got vanilla cappuccinos, decaf and regular. And mochas. Guess I left the decaf for you. I should probably take the decaf cappucino later, if I want to keep myself from crawling walls." Options were good. He'd given her them. Unless, of course, she preferred tea. The thought struck him like a physical blow. "I didn't even consider tea." He said, shocked.

He'd got her a BLT? Now this was someone who knew what a woman wanted, and when she wanted it. "BLT is my favorite" she stated. "I must say, for my first lunch with you, you're already doing better than most." The first time she had lunch with one guy, he had taken her to...Nandos. Despite hearing on multiple occasions that she did NOT LIKE SPICE. It never really got through to the guy, and having the super-mild chicken was rather embarrassing. How that guy ended up married she would never know.

And he had mochas? That lovely, sweet chocolate and caffeine goodness? This was gonna be a great lunch! "Which ones are the mochas then. I can't get enough of those. Though I particularly like whipped cream when I can get it." She should have had just squirty cream in a cup. That was what she really wanted from most places, but the caffeine helped with the boredom of the job.

"Don't worry, I'm alright with tea, but I'm not one of those no coffee at all types." Tea was OK, many Brits only drank tea as coffee was too much for them. Rebecca however was an American. Americans drank coffee, no tea taxes for us thank you! "So, what place do y'all have in mind for lunch?" The staff lounge was a bit oddly smelling, and her office could do without any greasy marks on the keyboard.

Elliott was quite pleased to hear that his pick had been appropriate. He smiled at her. Who could hate bacon? Things were going well. He would have fist pumped if the action hadn't been socially awkward and something a teenage boy might do.

Tea, she liked, but coffee she loved. Elliott turned the drink carrier towards her so the last remaining mocha faced her, and pointed it out from the criminal lineup.

"It's the one with an M on it and a C in a circle with a slash through it. For decaf." The people had been quite clever there. No caffeine. The French vanilla had a V with a drawn on beret. Chapeau, whatever. It had a little smile, too. The decaf version of it was the same, but with a frowny face instead and the 'no C' scrawl. Both French Vanilla faces sported a curly mustache. Coffee Artisans. Freaking geniuses.

In answer to her question of where they were going for lunch, Elliott pointed straight up. "Actually, I got us the roof." He said.

Elliot seemed pleased that his choices were going well. Well, she'd seen that before. Guys always had this way of not hiding their emotions well when it came to asking women out, if something went badly it was often endearingly amusing to watch them sweat over trying to figure out how to make it go better, it was equally amusing to watch a guy feel like things were going well. Pro tip: most women were normally just glad for the company, and perhaps the free lunch if they weren't splitting the bill.

Rebecca laughed at the coding system. This was sooo cute. The Coffee artisans had gone through the trouble of drawing little berets on the cups. She picked up the mocha and took a good sip of the chocolatey goodness.

"The roof?" She remarked. It apparently had a good view, though she'd personally never bothered to look for herself with her sand form, the tailwinds would have likely torn her apart. Still she wondered how he managed it. It was restricted quite heavily at times. "Sounds like an interesting place to have lunch." She smiled.

The clock struck lunch time. "Seems it's time to get a different view on things." She punned badly. That kind of humor was supposed to be in silly soap-comedies, not guys taking you to lunch!

>>"Sounds like an interesting place to have lunch." Rebecca smiled.

Elliott nodded. "Yeah. It's one of the tallest buildings in New York. The view's gotta be spectacular."

There would likely be a strong wind. He'd worn his leather jacket to work. The clock struck lunch time, and Rebecca made a goofy pun. He chuckled. "Yep. Make sure to grab a coat. It'll probably be a little windy up there."

When they were ready, he lead the way. Elliott nodded to Elevator God man, who he had bribed, and the man took them up to the highest level. From there, there was a hallway and a flight of stairs up to the roof... which he'd propped open with a brick.

Elliott had carried the bag and the leftover coffees. He suddenly wished he'd brought a picnic basket. But that was tacky, and the blanket for the basket surely would have blown across the skyline sooner than he could have set the basket down to keep it in place.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he held the door open with his back, revealing the skyline through the open door. "I present the roof." He would have done the Vanna pose, arms spread to both sides, but... it's hard to do so with your arms full.

There was a wind. But the view was good as he'd imagined. And the sunlight on the rooftop was warm.

Rebecca quickly grabbed the rather nice Italian wool coat that Elliott had so thoughtfully let her keep. Wool was good for keeping the wind up, and it had become a staple of what she wore to work. As much as she didn't like the fact, the boss did insist on her looking like she had "class" when in the office. He certainly stated his approval of her new coat when he saw it first time.

She let Elliott walk side by side with her to the elevator, the Elavator God man, Rick, smiled and nodded to both of them as he took them up to the roof. Rebecca couldn't help but wonder how Elliott had managed to get permission to do this? A little money didn't go amiss she was sure when making these kind of things work out.

Rebecca felt the wind blow through her hair as she stepped out onto the roof. Elliott had clearly visualised things in a more glamorous fashion than it turned out, what with his hands full. It was still a great view, and the sun took the bite off the winds' chill. Despite that , she was going to have a job keeping her hair in order as it blew about, some of it getting in her eyes, as she crossly tucked it behind her ears, only partially successfully.

The city was visible below, all the buildings and people looked tiny, like little insects buzzing about the place. Rebecca couldn't help but wonder just how many people actually saw this view, and got this new perspective. If it wasn't so windy, she would have rather liked to paint the landscape, and immortalize it for the world to see. "You weren't lying when you said it was a good view!" She raised her voice over the wind. "It's amazing!"

Ah, the wind. See, he had no hair so he hadn't thought of the oddity of hair. He'd not planned for this. It had been pretty, watching her hair trail in the wind for the first second of being on the rooftop. Then realization had set in. She was having trouble managing the breeze. He should have brought Rebecca a ball cap or something. Hairnet. Nah.

Elliott nudged a brick to block the door from shutting into place with his foot. He managed the things he was holding as he looked around for a good place to settle down. At least she sounded impressed by the view. Elliott found his smile had returned.

"Yeah," he laughed. "It is amazing. Hey, don't turn into sand or anything. I'd never be able to find all of you.

This spot by the wall should be out of the wind." He stepped towards the side of the entrance to the stairs, by the wall of the concrete cube.

It was in the lee of the wind. He settled down on his haunches, setting what he was holding down neatly. They still had a good view of blue sky beyond the edge of the building, though the low wall and the metal safety fence blocked out any of the lesser buildings. He held out her wrapped sandwich for Rebecca.

((ooc sorry about the wait. I wrote this post about a week ago. I forgot to post it.))

((OOC, no apology required, I've kept meaning to update Rebecca's threads and keep forgetting)
Rebecca made a face , curling her lip with annoyance and scrunching her nose as she tucked her hair behind her ear, only to have it nearly immediately blown back in her face. She laughed a little at her own futile efforts. She looked at Elliot, who was laughing himself. Well, it was a funny situation, she had to give him that much.

She laughed at his quip about her mutation "Well, that would be a fun one to have to explain to my boss for you." The story of how I lost your secretary and she disappeared for about a week as she slowly constructed herself back, painfully and unpleasantly. That would be less than ideal. "If I was a sado-maschochist I might just do that." She smiled again.

She sat down upon her knees in the spot Elliot had indicated. While her hair was being blown about a bit, the Alien Mutant was right that there was less of a breeze. She took the wrapped sandwich offered and carefully unwrapped it. It was the BLT, this lunch was already going better than most meals she had with others. She hadn't embarrassed herself yet. She bit into the glorious sandwich, relishing the taste.

"No sadomasochism," he shot her an exaggerated thumbs up, from his spot on the ground. "Got it." Elliott wore a teasing smile. The joke had all the potential to backfire violently in his face, but his gut told him she would find it funny. Rebecca hadn't sneered at his wry sense of humor before.

He idly hoped she didn't decide to turn into sand, just to get revenge for the comment. Despite a lacking of self-destructive tendencies. In spite.

Rebecca sat down in the indicated space, instead. Once she had started on her BLT, Elliott took a drink of coffee and unwrapped his sandwich. He dug in.

As they ate, Elliott commented on the view. "Shame it's not sunset. I imagine that'd be something. Had a few good ones when I was a kid, in New Mexico. Loads of empty space. You can see for miles."

((Apologies for being so late, have been unwell))
Rebecca couldn't help but smirk at Elliott's rather dark humor. "Didn't know you were a fan of 50 shades of grey" she retorted. At that she started eating her BLT, trying her best to eat as daintily as possible, though given the wind it was hard to do so. Still, she'd once had a guy eating pizza with a knife and fork would you believe? So at least she wasn't that bad when it came to food.

Elliott was now tucking in to his own sandwich, Rebecca couldn't help but wonder whether his mutation made it all taste different to him. Still, he was making her feel less bad at her own eating habits, not that he was particularly messy, but she found eating in front of people...awkward at best.

"Yeah, sunset would be quite something..." she remarked, as the wind blew by the buildings, lifting a few leaves onto the rooftop. She wished she could stay there forver, but ultimately, lunchbreak was a temporary thing. She took another bite of her sandwich. "I'm from Texas, there are quite a few beautiful views there, used to play there as a kid..." the places where Bethany and Matthew and her had played as childre, had forests, and a few hills, they'd loved running through that forest with a small stream running through it, where there was a bridge and wild geese, the forest that Bethany loved so much...

A little water ran down her cheek. It wasn't fair. It never had been. But at least they'd paid for what they did. Them first. Humankind next. "Tell me, do you have any siblings Elliott?" she asked. "To enjoy those New Mexico Sunsets?"

She took it the right way. Good. Very good. He smiled back at her and shrugged. "What can I say?" He asked. "It's literature."

That book was most certainly literature. Though perhaps not of the same caliber as Tolkien or William Shatner. Actual William Shatner. Not a joke about William Shakespeare and William Shatner, and getting them confused. The man who wrote a hell of an autobiography, and cracked wise.

They ate for a bit, and she replied to him. And for some reason, a single drop of water ran down her cheek. Was that a tear? He chewed the rest of his bite of sandwich as he considered a reply.

"I'm an only child," he finally said. "Though I did have people close to me, when I moved away. Other foster kids, friends." He cleared his throat, and took a drink of coffee. He was a little dry. "What about you? Any siblings?"