The X-men run missions and work together with the NYPD, striving to maintain a peaceful balance between humans and mutants. When it comes to a fight, they won't back down from protecting those who need their help.
Haven presents itself as a humanitarian organization for activists, leaders, and high society, yet mutants are the secret leaders working to protect and serve their kind. Behind the scenes they bring their goals into reality.
From the time when mutants became known to the world, SUPER was founded as a black-ops division of the CIA in an attempt to classify, observe, and learn more about this new and rising threat.
The Syndicate works to help bring mutantkind to the forefront of the world. They work from the shadows, a beacon of hope for mutants, but a bane to mankind. With their guiding hand, humanity will finally find extinction.
Since the existence of mutants was first revealed in the nineties, the world has become a changed place. Whether they're genetic misfits or the next stage in humanity's evolution, there's no denying their growing numbers, especially in hubs like New York City. The NYPD has a division devoted to mutant related crimes. Super-powered vigilantes help to maintain the peace. Those who style themselves as Homo Superior work to tear society apart for rebuilding in their own image.
MRO is an intermediate to advanced writing level original character, original plot X-Men RPG. We've been open and active since October of 2005. You can play as a mutant, human, or Adapted— one of the rare humans who nullify mutant powers by their very existence. Goodies, baddies, and neutrals are all welcome.
Short Term Plots:Are They Coming for You?
There have been whispers on the streets lately of a boogeyman... mutant and humans, young and old, all have been targets of trafficking.
The Fountain of Youth
A chemical serum has been released that's shaving a few years off of the population. In some cases, found to be temporary, and in others...?
MRO MOVES WITH CURRENT TIME: What month and year it is now in real life, it's the same for MRO, too.
Fuegogrande: "Fuegogrande" player of The Ranger, Ion, Rhia, and Null
Neopolitan: "Aly" player of Rebecca Grey, Stephanie Graves, Marisol Cervantes, Vanessa Bookman, Chrysanthemum Van Hart, Sabine Sang, Eupraxia
Ongoing Plots
Magic and Mystics
After the events of the 2020 Harvest Moon and the following Winter Solstice, magic has started manifesting in the MROvere! With the efforts of the Welldrinker Cult, people are being converted into Mystics, a species of people genetically disposed to be great conduits for magical energy.
The Pharoah Dynasty
An ancient sorceress is on a quest to bring her long-lost warrior-king to the modern era in a bid for global domination. Can the heroes of the modern world stop her before all is lost?
Are They Coming for You?
There have been whispers on the streets lately of a boogeyman... mutant and humans, young and old, all have been targets of trafficking.
Adapteds
What if the human race began to adapt to the mutant threat? What if the human race changed ever so subtly... without the x-gene.
Atlanteans
The lost city of Atlantis has been found! Refugees from this undersea mutant dystopia have started to filter in to New York as citizens and businessfolk. You may make one as a player character of run into one on the street.
Got a plot in mind?
MRO plots are player-created the Mods facilitate and organize the big ones, but we get the ideas from you. Do you have a plot in mind, and want to know whether it needs Mod approval? Check out our plot guidelines.
Decaniel got jostled by the crowd and had to step in closer. The bar tender was hopping now that a round for the house had been claimed and he pointed at the man, giving him his opportunity to order. He declined with a small wave. It was a totally normal bar interaction that distracted Spencer from focusing super well on the conversation at hand. That and where her mind had wandered. It had wandered wee-wee-wee all the way home to bed where she could imagine puffs of pink smoke and-
Ash-Lee was turning expectantly to Spencer and she raised her eyebrows as she tried to replay the last few auditory moments she'd technically heard, but not truly listened to. Was Ash-Lee... offering a threeso- no. No, that was ridiculous. Somehow Ash-Lee was four times funnier and Declan, Decaniel she mentally corrected herself, Decaniel was maybe 4 times less controlling. So far. Ash-Lee was setting the terms by passing the baton of power to her.
To Spencer. Spencer had the talking stick now. Jeyzusf*ck Ash-Lee was muscle-suave now and she'd been subconsciously petting them for a few minutes now.
"You're touching him." Decaniel helpfully supplied, he offered Spencer a hand like she might need to step away and he was the perfect person to know how to do that.
"I can touch." Spencer pulled on Ash-Lee's arm, as if she could move the current incarnation of Ash-Lee and would keep them out of Decaniel's reach. A second order of her first drink arrived at the bar not too long after Ash-Lee's showed up.
"You shouldn't be drinking." Decaniel said.
"I can drink." She insisted, though she'd only had one it definitely felt like more. What was in that pink smoke? "Look, I know you have theories or whatever, but I'm not your pet. You can't just... keep people." She drank to that because, as fun as that week had been, she had a job and a life... sort-of. She couldn't and shouldn't live like that.
One second Spencer was clinging to Ash-Lee the girl. Somehow- Somewhere- In that short span of time while she introduced Ash-Lee, she became a he. A funny giggle escaped Spencer before she could stop it.
Muy caliente indeed.
Spencer liked. Spencer liked Ash-Lee before. Spencer liked Ash-Lee now. And Spencer liked the idea that one day, she might get to pick and choose which Ash-Lee she wanted to leave an impression on her. Ahhhh had Ash-Lee asked a question? Spencer’s brain was off in a different room doing different things at the moment.
Decaniel seemed to take a moment where he stopped and took a big, deep breath. He reopened his eyes and they roved between the two. Spencer was as draped over Ash-Lee as she could get.
“I don’t suppose I can buy you both a drink?” The corners of his mouth lifted, but it was too complicated an expression to be called a smile.
Three of the scariest words a mutant might utter together.
You owe me.
Any denial died on Spencer's lips because Ash-Lee turned away on her mission to save the unsalvageable and then she... she poofed. There was no other term to describe what happened. She was like a Narutard with his first smoke bomb. It was everywhere. But was it everywhere enough for Spencer to slip away? She craned her neck toward the door and the growing throng of potential piggy banks.
The wall between her and him was a floor to ceiling cabinet: glass doors showed off crystal bottles and multicolored liquids, the stuff Spencer could afford with a half year's salary. His face wobbled through what she thought might be port and she realized that if she could see him, the reverse must also be true. Shit. Spencer turned back toward the bar tender, assessing if there was space enough for her to hide next to the ice maker and the odds were that he'd let her crouch there like a scared child. Spencer was not at all paying attention to the cotton candy smoke machine wet dream was saying. She was drawing all the attention in the room, but it wasn't like Spencer could sneak by. The hamster wheels in Spencer's head were churning in overtime and still going nowhere.
Think. She had to think.
Spencer jumped when Ash-Lee addressed her again and a bitter laugh was about as good as she could manage. They were trapped now for sure. She knocked back the last of her drink, which was a tasty one meant to be sipped rather than chugged, but she needed the chug.
"It's already too late." With the throng of men, the attention? He ate that kind of shit up. Literally, so far as Spencer could tell.
"Is that Spencer I see?"
Her eyebrows went up one level and the last bit of good humor drained from Spencer's face while the smile somehow stayed in place.
Behind Ash-Lee stood a rather average sized demigod of a man. He could cut diamonds with his cheekbones and Spencer had the pleasure of bouncing a quarter off his ass, back when things had been pleasurable. He wasn't too tall or too old. His watch, the shoes, and the cut of his slacks screamed pure money even if he was wearing a band tee shirt. He was too polite to push, and yet somehow the crowd made way for him with his gods damn handsome terrifying face. He smiled widely as the pink smoke swirled around him.
"Decaniel," Spencer demurred with a flutter of her eyelashes. She stepped up close to Ash-Lee, sliding her arm into lock with the sensual strumpet. Next to Ash-Lee, Spencer was substantially less interesting.
"Have you, per chance, met my good friend Spice?" SPICE!? WTF, BRAIN!? Spencer continued to die on the inside as she leaned her head across Ash-Lee's shoulder. Surely he'd take the bait, right? Ash-Lee was was PINK and had HORNS ffs.
Why not more was such a mutant sentiment. Why not the whole room? Well, maybe Ash-Lee could handle a whole room, but Spencer couldn't handle too much at once. Too many people and she tended to go a bit wild. It was better to stay small. Stick with one. She could handle one. Ash-Lee shrugged the entire room off. Spencer just needed one, one to pay and one to have a care for the evening. If Ash-Lee was it, then so be it. Spencer was neither picky nor terribly discerning, not that Ash-Lee was a compromise in any department that vas visible to the naked eye.
She let Ash-Lee assess her while she gave a secret smile to a guy across the room. She didn't go as far as licking her lip and beckoning him over with the crook of her finger, but she let him see a promise in her eye that may or may not be there. It was better to have a back up.
"Who here isn't running from something?" Or someone. She indulged a chill that ran up her spine when Ash-Lee mentioned that those around them were hungry.
"And what do you aim to do with your attention?" Spencer let e questio hang. It was, however, short-lived when she heard the door of the establishment opened. She told herself wouldn't look, she wouldn't look. She wasn't gonna...
Spencer looked.
And immediately went into damage control mode. There was a half wall between him and her. She was likely safe unless he made it more than half way into the room. She pulled her drink closer to herself so that he wouldn't even have a chance of spotting her fingers. He could ID her just from her fingers, she'd learned...
God's gift to monotony? Spencer surreptitiously assessed the woman again. ”With those looks? You could be his god for a night.” Longer, if she was into grooming. Spencer found that sort of thing distasteful, but it was likely more to do with her attention span. Mr. Bad Tie looked average, sure, but average was perfectly moldable. A blank slate in bed was as good as any toy…
> “Ash-Lee”
There was a slight pause in the middle, like two names slapped together instead of one Ashley. Or maybe she was a corn fed, southern bred Aishleighu or something. Those so oft over endowed with the gifts of the Lord were from the South, in Spencer’s not so humble experience. She was still chewing over potential spellings when Ash-Lee posed a question to her.
She almost told her, but with not knowing her at all, Spencer heaved a sigh. ”You’ll tell me why I’m here?” She deliberately misunderstood. ”This ought to be good. Okay. I’ll bite. Why’s an under dressed, but beautiful and charismatic woman here of all places?”
The bartender started to ask for Spencer's ID, she was sure that was the question since it was the question he should be asking. Knowing that she'd left her purse, including wallet with ID, in her office Spencer changed her face to be expectant and maybe even eager. She never truly understood why that worked, but people trusted Spencer. When she made an effort to look like an open book, they often gave her way too much free reign. As if how good she looked determined how good she'd be.
Their mistake.
The bartender shook his head and went about making the drink.
Or maybe Spencer was just reading too far into things and she looked every day as old as she was.
Someone joined her, that seemed unavoidable, but Spencer made an effort to relax regardless. She'd done it. There was no way a certain someone was going to think she was hiding out here.
> "Another scotch, my dear."
A woman? That got Spencer's attention, and once she looked... it was real hard to stop looking. All her breath left her in a whuff that sounded something like "Cotton candy wet dream." Because Spencer was looking at exactly that. Mutant, for sure, right? Trouble, she reminded herself. Mutants always meant trouble. And fun...
"You must be talking about that guy right there-" Even knowing it was rude to point, Spencer pointed at the most bland looking man in the room: tight fade haircut, suit, boring ass tie. He smacked of tennis elbow and was sitting alone. "It's the quiet ones you gotta look out for."
He noticed Spencer pointing and had the self-awareness to look behind him to be sure she hadn't been pointing at someone else which made a rolling laugh bubble out from Spencer. She let her eyes linger to let him know that he wasn't off the menu if he didn't want to be.
The bartender came back with an amber liquid for the cotton candy girl. It looked like a hard drink and made Spencer envious that she'd gone the safe route with the sour-sweet cocktail. This establishment likely had the kind of liquor that went down smooth and could get a tight wad like Mr. Bad Tie to relax in half a minute. Spencer proffered her drink for a little alcoholic klink. "I'm Spencer."
Spencer panic ran straight down the alleyway and when it ended in a fence, effectively hemming her in to a dead end, her anxiety peaked. This was not the most glamorous part of her life, she had to admit, as she tested locked doors in a trash-strewn alleyway. But victory was hers when a posh looking bus boy opened a door to remove a trash bag. There wasn't time to ask permission, she pushed her way in with a bumbling lie of an excuse about having a bathroom emergency that neither of them believed. But that wasn't the important part. The important part was that she took steps to get inside and he let her.
She checked over her shoulder as she disappeared inside.
Maybe it worked. Maybe it would work.
"Thanks." She gave the busboy a squeeze on the hand and took a second to inspect the hallway between the back door and the bathroom. Already she knew she didn't belong. Wallpaper as fancy as a luxe hotel topped wood paneling and decorations, even in this back hallway. Decorations.
Spencer fluffed her hair and re-tied the knot that had come out from her tank top. That was fashion. To do anything less was just sloppy. She also pulled her oversized cardigan up over both shoulders, instead of just one. Black flats and black jeans? She considered those neutral enough, even here. People wouldn't be looking at her shoes, she decided. Deep breath. Shoulders back. Spencer led with her hips as she walked, not to the bathroom, but straight to the bar. Hopefully she'd managed to go from 'disheveled mess' to 'artfully unkempt'.
Spencer had the best of friends and the worst of friends.
Today she was feeling lazy—too lazy to ensure a ride home—and someone else's ice cream and pajamas sounded just about the speed Spencer was wanting to go tonight. She'd given Tses a ring and the jedi mind tricker had either tricker her via phone, or the woman simply didn't consider that anything might be a bit odd in the apartment she'd recommended.
The key? Oh no, Spencer came in through the window like a respectable squatter. Just as promised, the building had air conditioning, power, running water, and yes even ice cream! The stuff in the fridge had long spoiled which was the first thing that seemed a bit... off. A second thing was the gun she found in the freezer. Spence didn't touch it, of course, she wasn't about to leave prints that she'd have to remember to wipe off later. She nudged it aside with a pint of Cherry Garcia that had yet to be opened and helped herself to a hidden frozen burrito. She was even kind enough to put her dish in the sink afterward.
At one point, she thought she heard something rattle. It was possible that the wind this high up got into the windows. Spencer made a point to lock the window she'd managed to get in through and explored more.
The shower didn't smell like death and the water came out hot and absolutely perfect.
Spencer took her time steaming up the bathroom and going through the medicine cabinet, makeup, and smelling all the various potions and beauty things. There was literally nothing good as far as pills, but there was a really great smelling cream lotion that promised she'd wake up young, dewey, and hydrated. At 30 years old that was something she was suddenly concerned about.
After the shower, she delighted in the clothes that were in the drawers, on the floor, and generally strewn about like a tornado had been involved. They were a little sweet, a little goth, and almost just barely a bit too big for Spencer. She tried on some silky light blue pajama bottoms that smelled pristine. When Spence tied the draw string into a bow, then they were acceptable.
But she couldn't find the top to match.
Thinking it must have been in the other room and knowing no one was home, she didn't at all think before opening a closed door.
It seemed like and office, but it was the strangest room she'd seen yet. Webs stretched between everything, or maybe they were draped here and there. And in different colors. Lots and lots of spider webs. Guns, knives, bangles, and bracelets all in a shiny magpie heap. A dog that was moving weirdly. Bottles of dye or print making materials? Had she walked in on some kind of illegal money laundering situation? She took a step toward the doggy. Poor lil guy looked scared. No doubt he needed a frozen burrito too.
"Aww buppy, were you lonely?"
There's a certain sound, a high pitched repetitive screeching like a ragged violin scream as fast as an inhale and sharply on repeated. Every time her mind made sense of something about the dog, Spencer heard the horror sound. There weren't two legs. There weren't four legs. There was no face. No tail.
Spencer took a step back. She wasn't a screamer. She wasn't overly scared of anything and not at all dramatic when it wouldn't help her.
But this? This was the biggest motherf***ing spider that she'd ever f***ing seen in her total ***ing life.
"OH SH*T." She had already taken a step forward so Spencer had to turn and dash back out into the hall and ohmigod it TOUCHED HER LEG and she was gonna slam the door, but she lost the towel that she'd had draped around her shoulders and only managed to fling the door towards the jam. The damn door caught on the towel! And she saw it's legs coming out of the door!! So she scrambled back into the bedroom where the bathroom was, slammed and locked the door. Hadn't she left her phone in the bathroom? She went for the bathroom and touched everything. Phone, phone. Where was the damn phone!?
A notification from her Kindlr app sounded from down the hall in the kitchen.
A soft probing spider leg swept under the doorframe and Spencer took a step backwards.
What if... what if the spider ate whoever lived here last?
The pop culture reference really just set off a whole new avalanche of questions for Spencer, but she bit her tongue. She didn't want to pester the mutant until she got murdered. She wanted to survive the day. Despite her best efforts thus far, it looked like if she played her cards right, that was still a possibility.
So when mutant lady walked, Spencer resisted the urge to slap her butt and tell her it was a good one.
She did want to live. Really. She did.
But it was a good one.
Spencer trotted along after Tses and she did a marvelous job of keeping her eyes up. She had to survive to see the Jedi at work. She also worked to cast off her lingering sleepiness and ennui. She had a mutant toting her around. She had to be on her A game!
But the Jedi did not do turnstiles.
Interesting. And courteous. She even swiped for Spencer.
"If you told me we could walk through walls together, I would have believed you. Next time you should at least get your new friend to try to walk straight into a brick wall first." Just some friendly pointers from a helpful citizen. She would have laughed because it was objectively funny, even if it was her looking stupid. The exception to that being if someone swallowed an explosive. That was still a lingering concern...
Spencer preferred to stand on the subway, and after a little map gazing, she started to get truly excited.
"Are we going where I hope we're going?" There was a certain museum on this line and not a hell of a lot else in regards to what they'd already discussed.
Posted by Spencer on May 20, 2020 14:00:02 GMT -6
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Mar 10, 2021 16:32:18 GMT -6
Ghost
She was keeping her secrets! Spencer pouted full on. She was officially giving up on being professional. This was off the record and she was in a GD bikini while Sveta was a greedy little secret hoarder. Spencer had removed hair. That hair hadn't wanted to be removed!
"Sharing is caring." And she really had less than zero to go on if she had to resort to little kid proverbs to attempt to wheedle even one little morsel of information out. Spencer had thrown out an untruth to see what it might net her. She watched Sveta explain the champagne slinging child. Or, really, non-answering. But she might have gotten a promise of a statement.
Noticing her drink was where she left it, on Svetas other side, Spencer reached past the turning blonde to grab the alcohol she so dearly needed to get through this day. She just tapped her arm. Just a momentary brush of skin to skin. Normally she wouldn't think a thing of it, but...
Spencer got goosebumps. The hair-raising, spine tingling kind that made her think someone had walked over her future grave.
"I-uh. Ow? I think you shocked me." She took her drink back and rubbed the spot on her arm where they'd touched. That's all that was. A static shock.
"So what kind of statement we talking here?" It must have been the hot tubs all packed in so close that made Spencer feel warm. She fanned herself with her hand. "Off the record, still?" She teased with a most brilliant smile, the kind of full on smile that made flowers bloom and nuns weep.
[OOC: If you haven't already, start your 1 minute of 3x Spencer pheromone potency! Everyone is officially somewhere between 2 drinks in and impaired judgement, depending on how close you might be. Please remember this affect acts like alcohol: not all those affected will become agreeable. It is a magnification and freeing of what already exists within a person. Some may become more belligerent, more grumpy, more sad, etc. Whatever it is, it’s just more accessible and magnified.]
Posted by Spencer on May 12, 2020 11:30:29 GMT -6
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Mar 10, 2021 16:32:18 GMT -6
Ghost
She was... happy. Happy to dodge Spencer's questions, and happy to flaunt the fact that she was in such control of this situation that she didn't have to answer to even the press. Spencer was just happy to be let in the door. Press had a bad rap, and rightfully so. Standards had slipped of late. Spencer wasn’t inclined to prop up journalistic integrity, either.
As bad as that felt, it was hard to be mad when someone else was happy. Spencer gave her the most cheerful of teasing side-eye.
"Alright then, keep your secrets."
And then she called herself 'den mother' which was laughable.
"Are all these de-aged kiddos your scouts? All these upstanding citizens?" Spencer moved to stand at Sveta’s elbow so that she could better see the crowd in alignment with the blonde.
"What’s the girl with the water wings do for you?”
"That's a very non-answer answer." And for sure meant that _something_ happened. But it was clearly something they weren't going to get to today. Spencer tried not to look terribly disappointed, but she'd never been one to hide how she felt. She was, in a word, crushed. "Oh."
The bartender arrived and Spencer showed her ID to get a martini-- no. Long island iced tea-- no. A rum and coke. She needed to stay sober, but also needed something strong. But not Long island iced tea strong.
"How 'hands-on' are we talking?" Spencer chewed on what Sveta had said looking for secrets and clues and looking at it with the eyes of a rumor sleuth. But really, this whole things sounded like a sigh-worthy bust.
"Okay then, forget Hadden. That guy's old news anyway." She waved away the specter of one more boring old white guy. "Let's talk about the future. This is quite the party. Any next steps for Haven? Are you the future? Or are you the one left with the old bathwater--? Sorry. Hot tub water, I guess..." She sipped and took another look around. So, so many questions about this party.
Posted by Spencer on Apr 29, 2020 22:13:30 GMT -6
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Mar 10, 2021 16:32:18 GMT -6
Ghost
The woman in charge didn't do handshakes, but the woman she'd been chatting with did. Brunette, nothing remarkable about her besides a bit of intensity or enthusiasm or... bootlicker-y? Yeah. She looked like a total suck-up.
Spencer was happy to have her handshake co-opted rather than left hanging. A howdy. Ohhhh how quaint!
"Another Texan. Excellent." The Texans seemed to be trying to secretly communicate in the overtly obvious Texan way. Okay. Maybe that was her bias coming in. Spencer amended her mental dialog. The Texans were trying to secret talk, but did everything bigger.
That was fine by her, the woman in charge, introduced as Sveta, had her own plans.
> "Everything is off the record until I say so."
"Absolutely. You're the boss." She retreated a step towards the bar and Spencer could take the hint. It'd be easier to hear in a more private location, right? "I'm not opposed to giving Haven the glowing spotlight treatment. Yay awareness! But I'll be honest with you, my boss sent me here to see what happened to the guy who used to be the face. You know Mr. Haven himself. Er- Hadden. I meant Hadden." Erg! She flubbed. And here she were trying to be all professional sounding in her bikini...
Spencer glanced around before settling into a space at the bar. There were e-girls, dudes in hawaiian shirts, skinny ones, pretty ones, was that... a kid in floaties?
Posted by Spencer on Apr 26, 2020 17:30:00 GMT -6
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Mar 10, 2021 16:32:18 GMT -6
Ghost
They were thorough. Her ID, her press badge, her swimsuit, security checked it all over. Twice.
"No I haven't been de-aged." She was flattered, though, and flirted a bit to hopefully get the scan of her camera sped up. But no amount of chatting seemed to work. They were paid professionals. Emphasis on the professional. Sigh.
"Any chance I can meet the man in charge?" She asked with her really nice smile and her really nice voice.
"I'll get you an escort. Tedward? She's press." The man handed her camera back and hailed a floating security guard. He smiled at her, but at the mention of 'press' the nature of his smile changed a bit.
"It's a lady in charge at the moment. Miss Svetlana Sergeyeva."
h! That was good to note. Spencer's files still said there was a mutant man by the name of Hadden running the show. She grabbed her phone and made a note and nearly walked into the back of her escort when he stopped to steer a man out of their way... or, actually... he was passing Spencer off. Her smile brightened by at least 100 watts because those arms were like modest Thanksgiving Turkeys and they made her want to baste them. Spencer put the phone away as she was offered one of those arms. She did her best not to waggle her fingers in delight.
"I'm Spencer."
"Michael."
"Ooooh from Texas? I couldn't help but notice your... shorts." His ears turned a hint of pink and their pace quickened.
"Excuse me ladies, Svetlana Sergeyeva, Ranger." Spencer's escort nodded to two ladies, one wearing a space laser pizza cat bikini. "This is Spencer. She's with... uh... she's press."
"Wolf News." She offered her hand to the brunette first before offering a hand to the blond. "I was hoping to get a sound byte from the lady in charge?"
She surprised Spencer by agreeing. The brunette had figured that Serena would steam up and fluster about until she escaped out a window or something, but she actually managed to keep it together. Not only together, she agreed to more. The X-men had training on how to keep cool under fire, no doubt. Spencer would bring the heat. Hopefully not enough to send the good girl packing.
Yet.
Spencer grinned enough to flash her gums, an honest and full smile more than she typically allowed-- She hated her gums.
"Excellent. And just to be upfront, I'm paying. My invite. My treat." Spencer knew that Serena had infinite dollars compared to hers, but Spencer enough class in her little toe to know that people probably didn't offer to buy lunch for a rich young miss if they knew her means. Spencer knew. And her credit card wasn't yet maxxed out. This was worth the investment. Serena was worth it.
Spencer packed up her papers and pen, sorted her phone, and found herself smiling again. Oh this was gonna be fun.
"I've just got to drop this off. Do you have any preferences? Vegetarian? Steak? Brunch?" She breezed past Serena and motioned for her to follow her to her desk.
Her desk was one of many in the bullpen, a busy area that was set two steps down from the rest of the floor. Spencer's desk was an oasis in the chaos. Not that it wasn't chaotic. It was. But it was beautifully chaotic with a shiny stapler and a hairy, green cactus in a yellow pot. Papers were everywhere, but mostly in stacks, and never too wrinkled. The same could not be said of the other desks.
She deposited the notes in a stack and picked up her purse. Just like that she was ready to escape to lunch.
