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For all its important work, the office of the High Commissioner of Human Rights is…just an office. The business could be banking or advertising, it would look very much the same. Sometimes, Heather thinks that makes it easy to see people's lives as any other business. It also makes it seem possible for one of the directors of the project for women's equality to grab her backside when she's stepping out of the elevator on her floor.
Right on a bruise, too. Heather bites back a yelp and disciplines herself not to turn around and punch the man in his smarmy face. She can't stand him and, frankly, she'd like to push him into the Hellmouth in Central Park. Maybe he's stupid enough to meet her there for a date.
Wishful thinking, though. Wishful like thinking no one is going to stare at the state of her face and the bandages on her hands. Chin up, Mac. She steels herself for a day of people thinking some man in her life smacked her around.
*
Just like any office, this one has its problem children, individuals who end up in a supervisor's office being chewed out with more frequency than others. There is a reason noone is particularly surprised when Liv quietly exits one such office and draws the door closed behind herself. She's undeniably valuable as an employee here, but she's also… her. What kind of woman attends work in slacks, practical shoes and a sweater, honestly?
She takes a moment to smooth out her sweater before her eyes fall upon the pair just off the elevator, and her mouth immediately forms a thin line. Liv starts walking towards Heather and the director with unmistakable purpose in her step, her eyes fixed not on Heather, but their superior.
She's gonna be getting chewed out again in a hot minute, isn't she.
*
Heather knows that look on Liv's face. She's sure she has it on her own face often enough. There's nothing they can do about it, formally, and she doesn't want Liv to get in trouble. Again.
"Liv!" Heather says brightly. "It's Liv, right?" Girls gotta stick together, even if it means keeping each other from punching a manager in the face.
*
The good news is that's enough to bring Liv up short. As soon as Heather says her name, the towering blonde stops on a dime, shifting her attention over to her — and her brow creases in immediate concern. "…yes. Are you -" She pauses, winces. No, that's a stupid question.
*
Heather holds up a hand. "You should see the other guy," she jokes, following it up with a hopeful smile. "Don't mind him," she adds, looking over her shoulder at the man whistling off down the hall. "I'm getting used to it. Price of doing business in New York. Are you okay? You weren't in yesterday."
*
At least Liv doesn't laugh at being asked the question by someone in Heather's current state. "I'm okay. Thank you," she adds, considering it a moment before she turns to offer her an arm. "There was a monster out near the park, I got held up." She says it as offhandedly as one would complain about unexpected traffic.
*
"Oh, you, too? I got held up a few nights ago, was late getting home," Heather says mildly. She doesn't hesitate to slide her arm through Liv's. "It's been a bit wild out there. I'm glad you're all right. Was anyone hurt?"
*
"Mostly just windows and beasties," Liv reports and, once Heather's arm is settled, she begins walking again. She's fairly sure she knows where the redhead works, and providing an escort is a better use of her time than whatever her boss has for her right now. "I was going to ask, how many arms did the 'other guy' have?"
*
"Just two apiece. Same with the legs. Awfully skinny, though." Heather's tone is purely conversational. "He had some friends with him. Fortunately, so did I. Well. One friend, but we made the best of it." They head down toward the office Heather shares with the other policy researchers on her project. "My main lesson for the night was that dating isn't for me, but I don't think it's fair it came with these bruises."
*
That makes Liv wince. "You were on a date? Well, that's just not fair," she notes sourly, gently patting the back of Heather's hand as they walk. "I'm sorry. The bruises will heal," she says confidently, giving her a very carefully-measured bump with her hip. "And then you can get back on the horse. You'll be fine."
*
"I think the horse and I are better off not associating. I've never been much of a rider, so to speak." Heather gives Liv a wink. "It was just a friendly date, anyway, with a very nice young man. Too young, too nice, and too popular, to be honest. But it was kind of him to take me. Can't play the widow forever, right? Now, you need to be sure not to have any more 'delays' or you'll get the sack, Liv. You're fantastic but if they're going to make an example of someone…" It's going to be a woman.
*
"…then I'll go find another job," Liv says easily, looking down at her with a twinkle in her eye. "It wouldn't be the first time and some things are more important than making it to the office on time. Even this one." She pauses for a moment and purses her lips. "…don't tell my roommates I said that."
*
Heather laughs at that expression. "I won't. I could probably find you something at the Canadian Embassy, in a pinch, but it's so useful to have you here. And not just because you're one of the only women on the floor." Heather hesitates, then shrugs. "But it is part of it. This place is awful compared to home. And that bastard grabbed me on a bruise."
*
"You should have let me confront him," Liv says lowly, blue eyes narrowing as she casts a look back over her shoulder. "I wasn't going to hit him. Probably. I mean, I might have," she allows, sighing tiredly. "But they don't learn if you don't."
*
"You can't punch every man in this building, Liv." Heather is equally weary. "Believe me, if I thought it would work, I would. It's not like this everywhere but it's like this here and they're proud of it. You're lucky — I mean, I'm sure your mother didn't think so, with your height, but you are. I would rather look like you. No one takes me seriously looking like this." Almost no one.
*
"Oh, how I look has nothing to do with whether or not they take me seriously," Liv replies with a laugh. "I just don't give them any other choice." She gives Heather's hand another pat. "Once you're less sore, I'll show you. It's not hard."
*
"I'd like that." Heather could always use someone else to practice with. Maybe it'll give her a thing or two to show David. "Do be careful if you're going to be walking near the park, though, Liv. I know you can take care of yourself, but…take a friend, at least. I don't trust you not to go back. I know how you like to get things done."
*
"It's all in the shoulders," Liv tells her quietly, withdrawing her arm so that she can reach up and — very gently, mindful of possible bruises — guides Heather's shoulders back just a smidge. "…and keep your chin up. If you always walk around like you're on your way to kill a man, they will move." After a pause, she remembers to add, "I'll be careful, I promise."
*
"Walk like I'm going to kill a man?" Heather laughs at that.
*
"Poor David. He has to put up with so much."
*
"David?" Liv echoes, trying not to grin at her. "Is this the too-young, too-nice, too-popular gentleman you mentioned?"
*
"Oh. No." Heather's eyes get very wide and her cheeks go very pink. "That was Johnny. Who took me out. And ran into those…men. With me. He was very brave about the whole thing but not a jerk, which was refreshing. He's quite handsome and modern but so young. David is…" Oh dear. Well. If anyone will understand, it's Liv.
"He lives with me," Heather admits in a soft whisper. "We're just friends, it's not like that. But you know how people are." Let's forget the kissing thing. "He has enough to put up with without me charging about like I'm about to take a man's head off."
*
Sure enough, Liv doesn't even bat an eyelash at this revelation. She tilts her head slightly and raises her eyebrows, actually looking a little amused. "…then don't walk around him like that. Easy," she says brightly, giving Heather a light pat on the back. "Save it for people you aren't sure about."
*
"It's really not me." Heather exhales slowly. "I mean…maybe once it was, I was little feisty when I was younger. But. I will try." She squares her shoulders up and gives Liv a grin. "If only to keep you out of trouble. I know you'll get yourself fired defending someone's honour here and I'd rather it wasn't me."
*
"You're still young. Too young yet to lose your fire," Liv says confidently, matching her grin. "If keeping me out of trouble is what it takes to remind you, so be it. It'll be fun."
*
"I'll try. But if I get fired…" Heather isn't good at being 'fiery' when she's out of her element. When she needed to be, for her team and for Mac, she was. It was easy. But now it's just her and she's getting used to dealing with it. "Well, if I get fired, I'll wait tables."
*
"If you get fired, we'll both wait tables," Liv laughs, reaching up to give Heather's hair an entirely unprofessional mussing with her fingers. What? "But it won't come to that, don't worry. This department would fall apart without you and they know it," she says, suddenly serious. "You intimidate them, and they're attempting to compensate."
*
"Well, there's a song I've been hearing since 1950," Heather says with a laugh. "I'm just used to being able to do something about it. Oh, I meant to ask." Heather shifts her briefcase because it's heavy and her hands are sore. "You don't mind working with a mutant, do you? Not me. I should be so fortunate. I mean if I bring one on as an intern. There's a place for one in my mandate and I don't want to hire someone who doesn't want to go into their homes. Anyway, I figure one of them should be working on this anyway."
*
Without a thought, Liv just reaches over to try and take the briefcase off of Heather's hands. "Mmm? Oh, no, I don't mind at all," she says with a broad smile. "That sounds alarmingly sensible. How on earth did you convince them to allow it?"
*
"I didn't. They turned me down." Heather lets Liv carry the briefcase as they start toward her office again. "Last week, the meeting was atrocious. I never cry and I almost did, I was so angry. I've had mutant collegues for years. So I called a friend who called a friend who mentioned to the High Commissioner, over dinner, that it would be a brilliant idea. He suggested it in a memo yesterday." Heather winks at Liv. "Don't tell. He's pleased with himself that he's being progressive and Larry nearly wet himself with rage."
*
"I won't say a word," Liv promises, positively beaming as she follows Heather along. "I've never understood the — no, that's not accurate," she murmurs, her lips twisting. "I understand the fear. I'm just surprised people haven't gotten over it yet. That would be more accurate."
*
"Anyone can be dangerous." Heather shakes her head slowly. "In so many ways. We've just learned, most of us, not to think about the ways in which we could kill each other at any minute of any day. But I'm not afraid of anyone because they're a mutant. Only because of who they are."
*
"More people should think that way. And they will," Liv says with a sigh, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling. "Eventually. The waiting is just… tedius. It's easy to become impatient."
*
"I've always been impatient." Heather stops at her office door and holds her hand out for her briefcase. "Thank you. Of course, that means I'm here at thirty with twelve years of work and marriage behind me, wondering "what's next". But, I suppose now I get to find out?"
*
"And that's supposed to be the fun part," Liv tells her with a rakish smile, dutifully passing the briefcase back to her. "It's easy to forget that, too. I'll just have to keep my job so that someone's here to remind you."
*
"And I'll try out your murder walk," Heather promises. "Either it'll work or it'll be come less figurative and more literal. We'll see."
*
"If you ever need help hiding a body," Liv says with a positively sunny smile, winking as she turns to start back down the hall. "You know where to find me."