2011 07 04: Pushover

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Mission Name: Pushover
Date of Mission: Jul 04 2011
Locale: Offices - CIA Field Office - Financial District - Manhattan

Bond, meet Moneypenny. Moneypenny, meet Bond.

Olivia Van

Debriefing. This always has to happen at some point. Which is one of the reasons that Vanderbilt Isaiah Prescott has actually brought himself to the building that belongs to the CIA. He gets off the elevator and makes his way, with purposeful steps, towards the offices that will lead him to more important offices and from there he will be given his next assignment. He shoves his hands into his pockets as he makes his way into the fray of CIA workers hard at work, very much attempting to blend himself in with the masses. No reason to stand out. Other than the Scooby Doo tie that he's wearing…

Welcome to the sea of cubicles. Not even the director of the New York field office is given any special treatment, save for having one of the few physical offices that surround the maze of modular office space. The buzz of work, phone calls, tips and leads proceeds as normal; it's bustling and humming as only a bureaucratic nightmare could. The occasional head prarie dogs, but for the most part, people only get up to collect printouts or make copies. The only person who seems to be up and about consistently is one brunette woman, wearing a black pencil skirt, a shiny green button-down blouse, and a no-nonsense look as she doles out and collects armfuls of manila folders.

Office. Office. Green Blouse. Office. Office. Pencil Skirt. Off— icially Distracted.

Vanderbilt ends up cutting through a row of cubicles, eyes watching the brunette that moves from one location to the other. He adjusts his tie and spins out of the cubicle row, to lean against the nearby wall, hands shoved into his pocket for style and a smile. He doesn't think he needs to say anything, since he does happen to be Van Prescott. Even the smirk that he's wearing on his lips, as he proceeds to attempt to cut this working woman off at the pass, seems to be already flawlessly victorious. There's a reason why he's the best damn super spy the CIA has right now. And getting women to stop dead in their tracks may be one of them…

And stop she does…just long enough to look at him, size him up, and flip through folders to see if she's got one in there for him. When that doesn't happen, she gives him a frown. "Well, I don't have any files for you, if that's what you're waiting for!" It seems to disturb her quite a lot that he's just here, seeing as how he doesn't have on the ID badge any visitor is supposed to display.

"Oh. Oh! I know. You have a meeting with the director, don't you? You're the 2:30, I believe? Prescott, Vanderbuilt. Yes, I recall now!" she blurts out. The pursed lips and furrowed brows un-knit themselves and she looks a good deal less flustered when she realizes that. "Your file said you often wear…juvenile ties," she adds with a tsk.

"I'm a child at heart, what can I say?" Van turns to lean all the way back against the wall, making sure to tilt his head over to look at the woman with all the files and all the work and somehow she's got the memory to know what time he's supposed to be meeting with people. In fact, that's good, because he didn't really pay much attention to the time himself. He immediately keeps up that flirtatious smirk of his, which is also in his file. "You've got me at an unfair advantage. You've read my file. You know everything there is to know about me. How do we even up the odds?"

"My name is Olivia. I'm the personal assistant to the director. If you don't get in there on time even though you're here, my butt is on the line. Those are the things you may know. What you may not know is when I get off work, and what I like to drink." Shifting the folders to the crook of her left arm, she gets her right hand up on his shoulder and starts to push him off towards the office. "Come on, come on, don't dawdle!" she huffs, really leaning into the push and clopping along behind in those heels.

Van only smiles, pushing back slightly to make sure that he doesn't get to the office any time soon. "Hey, like you said, it's your butt on the line, not mine." He's not even sure if that's true or not, but he's going to go with it. "Olivia. I like it. It suits you." Van doesn't even know if it really does, but he's willing to go with it for the sake of flirting. "You know, if I miss this meeting with him, we're both going to be in a lot of trouble. So maybe you could turn down the playing hard to get just a bit and meet me halfway here?" Van pushes back against her insistent pushing just a bit more.

"I'm not…playing hard to get!" she kinda grunts out with the effort of pushing him along. All-in-all, it's probably pretty funny to watch, her leaning to push him forward, him kinda thumping along the aisle there like a petulant kid playing games. One little bump or misstep, and all of those folders balanced in the crook of her arm are likely to go flying though! "As it is, you're only halfway there…his office is all the way at the other side of this floor!"

"Oh, so we've got plenty of time to get to know each other then." Van is working hard at making this even harder for Olivia than it has to be. "I'll skip over the formalities and go straight to what's important." Fingers come up to tap at his chin, while he's pushed and he pushes right back. "Hm. Ah! Boyfriend? Yay or Nay?"

"What? Huh? No! I mean…that's none of your business! You field agents are all the same! Pigs!" Pushy pushy pushy, Olivia's thumping his shoulder now with a loosely-closed fist. Let's just ignore the fact that the prairie dog habit of the cubicle workers has grown into full-blown Meerkat Manor, with whole groups of them peeking over the tops of their little paperwork prisons to look at how Van's getting her so flustered.

"Are not!" It is that statement that has Van spinning on his heels and away from the thumping hand of the pushy office worker, so that he can he turn around to face her. Granted, with him spinning out of the way with such agent-y reflexes, that could prove to be disastrous for anyone that wasn't ready for their target to no longer be there. "Some of us actually care enough to ask whether or not potential targets have boyfriend problems before we hit on them mercilessly. I'm talking about myself when I say 'some of us', you know…"

Olivia might be in a better position to answer…had she not kept pushing forward through the spin. One minute he's pushing back; the next minute she's falling face-first into the carpet in the aisle, complete with the gasps and groans from all the meerkats. And, as predicted, those files go down in a big heap, spilling papers and getting mixed up. Scrambling to her knees, pushing back some hair that's gotten mussed up and fallen in front of her face, she looks at the mess and appears to be on the verge of tears. "I spent all of yesterday putting those files together!" she practically sobs.

In a heartbeat, Van is crouching down in front of the kneeling hottie and turning on the British accent. "You should be more careful, love." There's a bit of a wink, though, as he reaches out to pat her on the shoulder. Soon enough, his other hand comes up and he looks at the expensive super watch that's on his wrist at this moment. "Look at that. I'm late. I better get to the Director's office like you said. Wouldn't want you to get in trouble." And with that wink following that, he's up and turning to head off in the direction of where he should've been in the first place.

Olivia's left high and dry there in the aisle, kneeling down, ankles crossed, brushing her hair back and carelessly stuffing papers back into folders. "He didn't even offer to help me up!" she sobs after Van, accepting help from some other co-workers to get back to her feet and sulk on back to her desk and re-organize.

Vanderbilt rounds a set of cubicles and heads off towards the office. He pauses just a moment to lift up his hand, revealing what is probably something very important to Olivia Willows. Since, well, it is her ID Badge and everything. He smirks at himself and tucks the badge away into his inside pocket, before knocking and entering the director's office.

"Look, I know I'm late. But it's not my fault. Your assistant…" Door closes.

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