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.
She expected a fight. A shove. A tackle. A... something. Spencer chugged the entire cup all in one go which spoke either to her lung capacity or her experience in slugging down large quantities of liquid. The eye contact, the stealing of the coffee, and she was ready to smash a mug and start a viking fight... and then no fight happened.
Spencer deflated a bit as she was offered a replacement. "It's been ten thousand years and it's only-?" She checked. Ugh. "9 in the morning." She withered more and in a small voice had to admit defeat. "I really wanted that latte."
She was wearing it, but it wasn't making her terribly indecent. Mostly the coffee had gotten her arm. So she was gonna have to go home and change. Fantastic.
Spencer hesitated again. She absolutely would have thought "I could be on fire and no New Yorker would care," but she knew where she was from... Her suspicions were getting too hard to ignore about this sheep. And yet... it was a sheep. Sheep didn't just do things on their own, right? So. It had to go somewhere.
She led them both to the back side of the show building, stuffing lettuce in the sheep's face the whole time as bribes or threats, she wasn't sure which. One quick crane of the neck showed no one holding up a helpful "reward for lost sheep" sign, so Spencer rang the backstage doorbell after cajoling the sheep up the ramp.
The backstage manager opened the door. Looked at her. Looked at the sheep. Tried to close the door again. Spencer stuffed her boot in the way just in time to get it cracked between the door and the frame.
"Ahhh-I have a lost animal. I thought since it was so close it might have come from here-ish?" She squinted through watering eyes, unwilling to admit defeat.
"Lost? No one lost any animals."
Someone further in the building said something that made the manager turn her head and raise her eyebrows.
"Are you sh*tting me?"
A d-list actor known for his car driving movies, who was more muscle than skill, came to smile over the stagehand's shoulder. Spencer's smile turned up to 11.
"You're with the talent portion of the show?"
"S-Spencer and her swing dance sheep, yep." SWING DANCE? FUUUUUDGE. She just wanted in!
"C'mon, Darla. Swing dancing sheep is in the line up. I saw it myself." He put his hand on the small of Spencer's back and Spencer waggled a little lettuce for her sheep to follow them through the backstage door.
The coffee line was long and this coffee shop didn’t even have a cute little bunny server or anything. It made her want to lay down on the floor and sob. Instead, Spencer rubbed her eyes and then had to use the mirror on the far wall to be sure she hadn’t smudged her already atrocious leftover make up.
She was terribly hung over. Too hungover to be making her own coffee. Ugh. She shuffled forward when the line moved and every step was regret. Was she getting too old for weeknight shenanigans? That was really lame! And potentially untenable.
Spencer just couldn’t seem to help herself sometimes. She really felt like she got wrapped up in the heat of the moment. Especially in one-on-one situations, there were days when it felt like people became more open. It was unconscionable to not reflect that same willingness to take risks and chase dreams and thank f*ck it was her turn to order.
”Trente fat free oatmilk horchatte, extra hot and cinnamon on top. Thanks.” She tapped her phone. Her phone paid and she shuffled over to the waiting line. Spencer was rubbing her eyebrows when her order was called. If she could just get some caffeine in her, she was sure today could still have a chance at turning around.
She wrapped her chilled hands around her prize, a coffee so sumptuous and large that it ought to be illegal.
And a door opened into her arm. The coffee went first onto her arm as she tried and failed to keep hold of it. Extra hot. Then onto the floor. Extra tragic.
She breathed, stunned as the b*tch almost laughed. SHE WAS LAUGHING. Not a sorry. Not an excuse me. NOT A GODDAMN DROP OF COFFEE IN SPENCER’S LONELY, DRY HUNGOVER MOUTH.
Spencer’s hand darted out and she grabbed the coffee from the other woman’s hand not caring if it spilled a bit from the jarring transition.
She maintained spiteful eye contact for as long as she could while guzzling the other woman’s coffee as fast as she could. It didn't matter that it wasn't the prize she'd waited so very long for. It just mattered that Spencer was getting coffee and this woman was not.
The dawn broke. The sun smiled. And Spencer's face softened. Yessss. There was something there!
”Freedom to love who you will. That’s beautiful.” So Spencer wasn’t totally off base when she thought she might be picking up secret freak-in-the-sheets vibes. Or maybe she just always hoped. The control freak thing was interesting. Spencer made a note to come back to that, but they were on a good path for now. Especially with some intense eye contact.
”You’re damn right. Love who you want, girl.” Sometimes people needed to be heard. Sometimes people needed to be affirmed. And sometimes, people just needed a “hell yeah.” Active listening was a trained skill. One that, when applied correctly, could help people relax and open up. Spencer liked to think she was rather good at it.
Yes. Spencer had pivoted them to the X-men, but Spencer was sensing a whole different kind of love there than the previously discussed type. Nooo. That wasn’t juicy. She was being all humble and well rounded. Damn! Whatever publicity training she’d endured was good.
”I don’t suppose you have your costume here today? How do you even choose what to wear? Are there rules? Like no capes after Labor Day?” Okay, that hadn’t been in her plans to ask, but Spencer was genuinely curious. The rattled off names threw her for a loop momentarily until she realized those were real life names. Not the X-names people usually were known by.
”Becca, that’s uh- uh-" She snapped her fingers around her pen as the name refused to get off the tip of her tongue. "The electric one? Is there an electric one? No. She’s known as Lodestone. The- Sam is the uh- The punchy guy?" Oh lord where her notes!?
Spencer dug until finally she found something of use. "Ah here it is. Becca does magnetism.” She scanned over the roster she had, no doubt it was old. There was no Maya on it at all. ”Sorry, I’m not terribly familiar with your teammates and all the identity stuff, but I’m sensing a whole lot of goodwill.” Except for, maybe, when they’d hashed out costumes. ”Who is your favorite teammate to practice with? And out in the world when there’s action? Who do you turn to most on the team, you think?”
And of course, she couldn't just ask whatever. This was a book promotional interview so she had to tie things back together. ”Is there anything in your books in regards to the X-men? Do you have anything you might want to say about the team’s real world leadership?" Her roster was not just a list of names, code names, and powers. It had annotations for who was deputized, who had an alleged murder to their name, who was worth over a million dollars, and other such information.
Hmm yes. He was too old to be a lamb. That's why Spencer must have moved on to talk about mutton, which she then reasoned on the sheep's behalf that was about older sheep. Spencer paused for a beat on her way to the Halal cart. Did... did she know that? Somewhere in the crevices of her head she must have. It wasn't like there was a talking sheep following her around... right?
It said to hang on, but that was just her brain making up conversation so she ignored herself for a moment to talk to the guys in the food cart.
"Hey, uh. Do guys know of anyone who has sheep around here?" It was going to take more explaining than it was worth so she pointed at the sheep in question. "It's lost."
"Why do you think that? Doesn't look lost to me?" "Yeah it's just kinda standing there."
Spencer opened her mouth. And then shut it. Were sheep more common than she was giving them credit?
"Why is no one weirded out by this sheep? Sheep don't just lurk in the subway. I have literally never seen a sheep in person in city limits except--" An idea. A terrible wonderful idea. "Except for in filming." She breathed her revelation and looked around quickly identifying which studios were nearby. The Late Show! If she was returning their sheep, maybe they would give her an interview or at least let her skulk around backstage!
"Can I buy a bunch of just lettuce? For the sheep." Spencer put it on her credit card and turned around to the sheep. She narrowed her eyes at him... her... again, she questioned her sanity a bit. Didn't rams have horns?
She narrowed her eyes at it. "Okay, fluffy, it's you and me. You're gonna be a nice sheep and follow the lettuce." She held out a fresh green leaf with as little of her hand exposed to potential sheep teeth as possible. "See? Nice juicy lettuce. Come with me and let's go see if you belong on network TV." She took a few steps and produced another leaf. Would he follow? If so she was going to see how many steps she could get out of him as she walked with salad bribes. Alll the way up to the loading dock of the Late Show, if he'd follow.
It wasn't imaginary, but she was pretty sure she'd imagined that it said something. Spencer snorted at her own joke provided by her own subconscious, and gave the sheepy a good ruffle on its wooly head. Everyone knew sheep were girls. Why had her brain given is a deep sassy Texan twang?
"A lost sheep in New York. I'm pretty sure that hasn't been happening for a good decade or so." She felt the girl's neck and found no collar. Thank f*ck. So it wasn't a pet. That meant it wasn't owned by an absolute psychopath. (Because, honestly, who would f*cking own a sheep in this town?)
"You're probably a passover lamb or... something." Spencer wasn't the religious type so she had no real concept of when Passover was. Also this was no spring chicken... spring lamb. It was a full blown fuzzy, fluffy, floof of a sheep.
Spencer gave her (him?) one last scritchy pet and backed up to inspect the stores nearby. Sewing notions? Lawyer. Sure there were delis on every corner, but delis didn't usually butcher their own mutton. "Is mutton lamb?" She asked the sheep, as if it would know. Spencer was having so many doubts about everything she knew about sheep, suddenly.
A Halal cart rolled into position for the early lunchers and Spencer wandered over to ask them about the sheep. They served lamb. Maybe it was somehow theirs?
Spencer had seem some real weird sh*t since coming to New York for school, but as she walked past a sheep on the way to her subway entrance she had to stop.
The fast walker behind her gave her token annoyance and veered around her as Spencer took a moment to make sure she had really, actually, literally seen what she had just seen. She turned and walked back and blinked... yeah. Sheep. Did no one else see that sheep?
"Exc-" The first person dodged her like she was passing out pamphlets. Oh. Right. She took a far more aggressive tone for the next guy she tried.
"Hey! You see that sheep?" The guy gave it a cursory glance.
"Yeah? So?"
"It's a sheep."
"So?"
Again with the so!? "The f*ck is it doing?"
"Sheeping?" He shrugged and looked like her very, very much wanted to be let out of this conversation so she let the stranger go. At least he seemed to be able to see it. For as crazy as this was, at least the sheep wasn't imaginary.
"I would say the plot thickens, but there's no plot." She talked to the sheep as she approached it. Talking to animals made them like you, right? Was it going to bolt? Did it have a... a collar? or something? "You had to come from somewhere..." If it would let her, she would pet it. It was pretty fluffy looking.
Hmm. Very generic still and not what she'd hoped. It was a fair point, still but clearly Spencer just needed to continue digging. "That's great advice. I love seeing authors really lean in to what they believe rather than playing the politics game." Serena was so earnest feeling. If she really was boring, that would make a generic, if passable article, but Spencer's intuition just kept her thinking there had to be more.
"Let's talk a bit more about your personal beliefs. You mentioned that you can't help but insert some of your feelings into your writing. Is there anything specific you want to call out about your beliefs? Maybe something your average reader might miss on first pass?" It was only polite, after all, to give people enough rope to hang themselves or to help themselves. It'd be up to Serena to choose which.
"You also mentioned the X-men, which has been a divisive group in the past. How do you feel about being a member of the X-men team? The leadership, the structure...
Also, maybe you can put this silly little rumor to bed, but I heard that for a while there was a uniform requirement for the women that included heels and a miniskirt?" She raised one eyebrow. Surely that was just unsubstantiated rumor, though...
Spencer was thanking all the powers, including Obama. Not only had Serena given her a lot of openings, she was finally beyond speaking in single sentences. People just took time to warm up. It always worked. Eventually. She scribbled furiously to make sure she didn't drop any of the hooks that Serena was laying down.
3rd. Series. Themes. Timid? X-Men. Psudo- ps- nom de plume. MORE OPEN. Influences? Manifestation of power. New crazy. Atlanteans at Mansion. Power, magic, myth, real life politics, sexuality, gender, identity? Personal opinions in narrative.
Whoo. It was Christmas!
"Wow. There's a lot to unpack there. Let's touch a bit more on your nom de plume, heritage, and stepping up to claim your name. You said you are quote "more open" now.
Would you care to elaborate on any of that? Maybe speaking to anyone else who might feel…" She checked back in her large bubbly script for the word that Serena used. "timid?"
The things people decided to reveal about themselves were, in turn, often more telling than the actual facts revealed. Serena, by her own admission twice over indirectly and more directly, admitted that she had her reservations, nerves, and habits. She didn’t seem to be a “sharer” by nature. Possibly more of the introspective type, if Spencer had to guess with her meager amount of information.
That was all well and good for Miss Serena. It was balls for Spencer.
”I do love the accent. I’m glad New York hasn’t stolen your shine.” Accents were absolute pantie busters. Sometimes Spencer liked to play up a Texas accent or something else she had no real right to claim. Just ‘cause.
”So, I know you’re here to promote your latest book. Why don’t we talk about that for a little bit? Is this a continuation in a series? What in your life sparked the idea for this story, you think?”
She hoped for at least a little nugget of something from this answer. Serena was far too pretty to be this boring.
She thanked Serena for her graciousness and then, once they'd gotten the required pleasantries out of the way, Spencer made sure to leave her phone on the table showing as she opened up the recording app and pressed the big red button. There wasn't any reason to be secretive. She'd gone into airplane mode so there would be no distractions. The record was starting up. Once the red light came on, it was time to earn her pay.
"Let's start with you introducing yourself, if you'd be so kind. Your name and one interesting thing about you— just as they teach us in school, you know?" Spencer smiled encouragingly and leaned forward so that she could be ready with her notepad.
But Serena wasn't going to get off so easy as just that.
"And actually you've already said something quite interesting before we started recording. I'd like to start there, if you would. You said something to the effect of you wanting to dodge interviews? Why's that? You're lovely company." The x-men were nice on their face, so she was going to have to dig a little deeper than usual to find the good stuff, no doubt. Though Serena's little bout of embarrassed shuffling hadn't escaped her, she would let it slide and swallow whatever excuse Serena came up with.
She was good at swallowing.
Spencer, too, could be nice. It was best to start there, especially if Serena was eager to find a reason to bolt. She gave good, solid eye contact and did her best to encourage Serena on. Her pen naturally came to rest on her lower lip, taken away only when something of note might present itself.
Ohhh even just Serena's voice made Spencer aware of her fondness for good girls and helping them realize just how bad they could be. Spencer did her best to reel it back. She had to do her job first— only after she earned the money could she be allowed to play.
Spencer was up in a flash, offering her hand for a good, firm shake first because it was polite and she had offered a drink. That meant Spencer must be the one to provide said drink. Coffee was easy enough. She just poured it out into a station branded mug and grabbed the little bowl of add ins with stir sticks, cream tubs, and sugar packets of varying caloric density. She talked and poured at the same time like a multi-tasking wizard.
"I'm ecstatic, thanks for asking. How 'bout yourself? Did the secretary get your coat or did you walk in like that? Seriously, you x-men are so badass." It had to be, what? Worse than freezing considering the wind chill.
She balanced the cup carefully so not even a single drop spilled as it found its place in front of the mutant. She was a mutant, Spencer reminded herself, and Spencer was just a helpless little human. Outside of the powers, people were just people, though.
"I won't lie, I think the powers that be are testing me with this interview so, please be kind to me, okay? I promise I'll do my best." Spencer smiled conspiratorially as she sank back down into her chair on her side of the table. She motioned to her phone on the table with a tilt of her head. "Would you mind if a made a recording of our interview? There's a lot of nuance that gets lost in notes alone."
Spencer wasn't walking into this blind. Any interviewer worth her salt did an internet search for the basics so she wouldn't waste their time on stupid stuff. Plus it gave her a few avenues of investigation: Miss Serena Rivers was rich, associated with the x-men, powerful, successful, a talented author... oh yeah. She don't get to have everything go your way. There was dirt hiding somewhere. Spence just hoped that it wasn't the mundane kind. She could go for a good scoop right about now.
And so could the paper. That's why they sent their crack interviewer. Spencer wasn't always the most consistent, but she always brought home something interesting.
She had her pens, her paper, her phone for voice recording, a small water and coffee board off to the side where she helped herself to a latte… now Spencer just needed the good little girl herself.
She didn’t have to wait too long. The secretary didn’t bother to knock, which annoyed her, but what walked in was not the secretary...
She was blonde, possibly a great dye job but likely real. Pale in the way of perfect Greek statues and the urge to touch was just as forbidden. Tall, Spencer noted she was definitely the shorter of the two after assessing footwear.
She was already smiling openly, her natural reaction to seeing anyone she had yet to meet.
”Serena? Serena Rivers? I’m Spencer Robertson with the Wolf News Entertainment section staff. It’s so nice to meet you. Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?”
Character's full name: Spencer Robertson Alias/ Nickname/ Code name: N/A Gender: Female Age: 29 Date of Birth: May 5, 1990 Birthplace/ Home/ Place of origin: Omaha, Nebraska Nationality: American Ethnicity/ Cultural Heritage: Mexican / Irish
Appearance
Hair color and style: Medium brown, worn straight down to her mid-back. Skin Tone: Tan Eye Color: Brown Height: 5’5” Build: She got curves for miles. Visible mutation: N/A Scars/ Tattoos/ Piercings: Dancing skeletons around the lower left half of her rib cage. A few more privately located tattoos. Nipple piercings, helix, and two holes in each ear. Other features: She’s got a very approachable and open face. Not a RBF in sight!
Everyday clothing style: Spence loves the oversized comfy trend as well as the “show off your midriff" trend. Basically, it’s gotta be on trend and it’s gotta be tailored to fit snug or to fit loosely on purpose. She’s not one to look sloppy. Uniform: N/A Sleepwear: A loose shirt and nothing else Miscellaneous clothing: For her day job, Spencer dresses somewhat more professionally. Skirt suits or khakis along with button up and tailored jackets.
Character
Personality: Seductive, sensual, and toxic. She is passionate and wild and her intensity is strangely engaging to the point where it’s easy to get wrapped up in the whirlwind that is Spencer. She takes very little issue with swindling, cheating, or lying to get what she wants. Life is for taking advantage of, living to the fullest, and exploiting. She can derive thrill from negative or positive attention, so long as she gets attention. That leads her to often be reckless, dangerously impulsive, and hedonistic. She’s not crazy; just a gambler.
She values experiencing all sights, sounds, smells, and tastes that the world has to offer. Most of all, Mercy enjoys showing people a good time, solving problems, and taking advantage of smart opportunities.
Hobbies/ Interests: Reading, entry-level gaming, people watching, coffee, trying new things, yoga, music, fashion Job or part time job and description: Gossip columnist Fears/ phobias/ concerns: Being irrelevant, that she’ll someday lose her touch, that she’s not really in control of herself. Spencer also has a tendency to accidentally flip words around in a sentence like she’s often thinking too fast for her own mouth. Special talents: Spencer is a writer with a keen sense for trouble. She can find it. She miiiight have started it, but that’s beside the point.
Morality
Good/ bad/ neutral/ other: Not really bad, but totally selfish. Spencer lives in a Spencer-centric world. Spence has learned to do things her own way, for herself. She’ll take whatever she can unapologetically.
Mutations
Mutation description:
Inhibition Lowering Pheromones Spencer’s power is a mental suppression of the cognitive and physiological processes that impose restraint. Those in her influence experience a subtle freeing feeling, increased bravery, a desire to smile and agree, boosted connection to personal desires, desire for self-expression, and a general release from guilt or connection to consequences.
Typical Pheromone Exposure Progression:
At 1 minute, those around Spencer feel more relaxed.
At 5 minutes, those around Spencer feel more free and agreeable. Think 2 drinks in.
At 10 minutes, those around Spencer have enough pheromones in their system to potentially impair judgement.
At 1 hour or more, there is the potential to wake up tomorrow with a new tattoo and no idea how you got it.
Strengths: It’s like being drunk without having to take a sip. Being around Spencer is like being on top of the world. There is no physical impairment, just a freer self. Effects differ based on the person’s starting impression of Spencer, time spent in proximity, and skin contact. She can eventually change a hostile character's attitude around.
Weaknesses and Limitations: Spencer’s power is a subtle influence that takes time and exposure to work. It is entirely up to the character how it manifests.
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.
Spencer is immune to her own pheromones, however, the closer in proximity and longer she is around someone else, the more attuned she becomes to a person’s pheromones. This produces a similar effect for Spencer (ie, relaxing and impairing judgement) with a slightly delayed timer.
Physical Abilities
General Physical Capabilities: Average to meh with the exception of flexibility. Her interest in yoga keeps her limber. Fighting Style: Why fight? Fighting Style Pros/Cons: If forced into a fight, she gon’ get pummeled. Running works in most cases.
History Of Your Character At age 13, Spencer Robertson was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. She was successfully cured of her disease after undergoing a year and a half of chemotherapy and radiation treatments that resulted in Spencer losing her hair, her spot on the dance squad, and much of her friend circle. She became depressed, gained weight, alienated everyone.
Then puberty was kind to her. (Cough, mutation activated, cough.) She got curves. She got friends... of a sort. She got an internship at the local paper. She found her passion and success in investigative gossip.
Spencer attended NYU from 2009-2014. She graduated Cum Laude in Cultural Reporting and Criticism with a minor in Magazine and Digital Storytelling.
Now Spencer works for a local newspaper, sniffing out rumors and especially mutant-specific stories.
Roleplay What’s your OOC alias?: Ghost Where did you learn about this site?: The year was 2008 and Google was not yet evil... Do you have any other characters on MRO, if so who: Raine, Noel, Jude, Kalos, AJ
Sample RP: Tiny backpacks were “in” so of course she had one. Her phone and some bare essentials like an ID and credit card could squeeze in, but hardly anything more. Definitely not anything useful like a laptop or camera. Spencer blamed the patriarchy. Her laptop wouldn’t fit in her pockets either…
She got bumped and the laptop in her arms spun out of her hands and across the icy sidewalks until it rested beneath the front left tire of an SUV.
She was so stunned that for a precious second, she did nothing but try to discern if that was real. That…. That was her work laptop. And that actually just happened.
”Excuse me.” She turned and grabbed the back of the coat of the one that had to have done the bumping. He scowled, but Spencer smiled her winningest smile; she caught flies with honey. A little explaining and some near-tears and the gentleman who had once been in a hurry now offered to carry the corpse of the laptop to the nearest BeastBuy. Spencer was shocked, absolutely shocked, to learn that it could not be repaired.
An hour later, she was walking out with an upgrade. Her hard drive had been moved over, and as an added bonus they threw in a rather professional looking laptop bag. It wasn’t her style, she’d have to find a different one, but it was free. And free had its own appeal.
Though, nothing in life was actually free… The doorman cleared his throat, gaining Spencer’s attention and directing it to her top button. Her top button was connected to her second button hole, the second to the third…
”Thanks, Ray.” She debated fixing it right then and there, but she was going to be tardy already. Why risk it? Spence ducked into the ladies’ room to make herself presentable and reiterate her affirmations to herself in the mirror. I am a professional and I value my job. I have willpower. I make my own choices and I am in control. No hijinx at work.
She didn’t believe every word, but her therapist said that one day she might.
