Miss swan dating game

Her feet rest on the coffee table and the laptop on her lap.Tamara Young arrives next and stalks into the staff room.“Did you clean this before you made coffee? “Yeah with loads of bleach” Emma says “I left some in there actually just to make sure it's really, really clean.”Tamara scowls.“Your client is here.”“Get them coffee then but don't keep me waiting. ” Tamara demands.“Ok, thank you.” Emma says and hangs up, partly because she enjoys pissing Tamara off but also because she doesn't want a client to hear her say “I don't know” because it sounds unprofessional, and she is professional about this stuff she doesn't believe in.“Ok then. If I can get you anything please let me know.” Emma says, keen to provide something useful to earn anything from this woman. Really pretty, in a distant, unattainable way.“Thank you, Emma” she says as she enters the office and closes the door.They walk up the stairs, Emma first and she tries to remember what this woman's profile said. When she's back downstairs and has sent Mulan some abuse for not showing up, she opens the shared calendar to find the client name. She remembers pulling her profile up as a potential match for a client but she hadn't flagged it as high potential, it was in the medium range, which Tamara never usually bothers with.She’s never seen a guy seriously wear a bandana around his neck before, at least not outside of Oliver Twist adaptations.She looks him up on their internal database to find his questionnaire answers. We have our clients and we try to find their soulmates. The woman smirks and Emma avoids looking at her while she rings up and bags the book.“You'll never get anywhere talking to your superiors like that.” She snaps as she pours a cup for herself.“I'll remember that if I come across any.” Emma says without looking up from her screen.

It's not what Emma's used to, people are usually excited.

She remembers it was sparse, bordering on reluctant, but it's so taboo not to believe, all respectable people have a profile. “If you change your mind about the coffee, or you want anything else, let Tamara know and I'll be right up. Emma pulls up the primary client’s info, the one who’s paying for this work to be done. It's a professional public profile, staged photo and everything.

He's the son of a lord in England or something but in his pictures he seems to go for like, the countryside rogue vibe.

Puerto Rican cooking, equestrian sports, literature (note: Ann Brontë over Charlotte or Emily). Maybe she’ll send her a fruit basket, she’d hate that. “Good morning, Miss Swan.” “Ms Mills,” Emma straightens up and puts her phone down “how are you today?

”“Can’t complain.” She says and Emma doesn’t believe her.“I’m glad to hear it.” She says anyway.

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