It was painfully obvious that there was extraordinary circumstances in the suite of the office building that generally employed me. As a free-lance translator, I ended up working for many of the businesses in the district, including law firms, financial firms, or mere companies who needed to market to an international client. Granted, several of these corporations or whatever you'd like to dub them knew I had other services to offer, but they kept them quiet considering the fear of God they were met with if they had open, flapping mouths. I wasn't fond of being advertised, but when clients came to me personally I was far more likely to oblige than to turn them down instead of the extravagant ways I tended to turn down word-of-mouthers. At least it kept my job interesting, and changing venues on a regular basis tended to keep my temper, attention, and consistency in tact.

Surprisingly, the current job had been working with the firm with whom Frank (officially known as the vampire who ruined my taste in all other vampires) had been employed. Sure, there were probably other motives for hiring me again although my tongue was far more silver and skilled than many others in the field. I had been contacted to get on a team with some men I worked with regularly in order to help failing business attempts with a client from Northern Africa. The client spoke Arabic, some local tribal tongues, as well as French. Granted, my French was typically limited to a few creative slurs and some hybrid phrases like "where is the nearest bar?" and "how old are you?" but, that seems to be highly besides the point. I knew that they had intended on hiring another to fill the language barrier. Originally I had had some doubts on whether or not this other translator was worth me even accepting this job. Why not get someone who could speak all the languages, and make sure you were covered? Why hire two, unless they were planning to off one of us? I shook my head when I had read the contract, finally signing my name like it was signing my soul over.

When I entered the suite, the typical secretary was chipper and greeted me with her usual flair of effervescent annoyance. Okay, maybe she was just being friendly... But at 8:00am? I would rather drink my own blood than listen to high pitched soprano delight. I waved once, keeping my quiet as I passed my regular office and headed down towards a meeting room without so much as another word or glance to the gaggle of men who greeted me with a familiarty I wished they hadn't. I sighed, trying very hard to keep a scowl off my face as I wandered into the back of the suite, but try as hard as I might... Scowl 1, Davante 0.

When I pushed the door back, I ran a hand through my hair. The woman that was seated at the large conference table looked young, almost too young to be employed in the whirl-wind world that these meetings often took place in. Was she even qualified? I bit my tongue, hoping the venomous lines in my brain might stop before they were met with open arms on my tongue. I pulled the chair out beside her without offering any words of introduction, assuming that the man who had hired both of us would introduce one another whenever he arrived. Assumtions 1, Davante 0. Again.

When all of the men were seated, I waited (im)patiently for an introduction before the meeting began. Wrongly so, I guess, as it began all too quickly. Fortunately for me, I was used to the boss's attitude and his way of working, and I opened my bag to pull out a laptop and a headset, prepared to take notes on whatever it was the client had to say to me, at least. I couldn't have cared less whether or not she followed suit, but it was better for both of us if she did. I busied myself with typing a brief message, and turning my computer to face her.

Headset under your seat. Either get to notes, or get out your pom poms and cheer me on while I do both our work.

Professional? Pfft, just the perfect, outstanding, shining example of it.