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 A Hard Day's Night, tag: Slania/Open
Sarah Doyle
 Posted: May 24 2014, 10:40 AM
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Chicky has 30 posts
British Government/Camera Technician


The 22 year old scoffed as she propelled herself down the outside of an apartment complex—do they call it that here in London or something else?...Aw who gave a shit?—her black backpack full of the equipment and power tools she needed. It had been a long day full of editing, and she had dealt with a bridezilla and mother-of-the-bride zilla as well during a photography session that morning. All she wanted to do was go to her apartment, order some pizza, get in her pajamas and have a much needed marathon of the 1950’s television series “Zorro” till it was three in the morning and sleep like the dead.

But no! Where was she tonight? She was stuck playing “Mission Impossible” on some random chick’s place that the British Government had sent her to in order plant a few cameras. Mark her words, those uptight paper-pushing douchebags were going to be sorry they asked her to work on “Zorro” night!

OK, it was no big deal. All she had to do was place a freaking CCTV camera on the wall, pop a few screws in to keep it in place, and she could run home before Mycroft could ask her to do anything more that night. Of course, it never stopped the man before. If he could, he could have her forcibly dragged out of her bed at four in the morning and put her on a plane to Istanbul because one of his dumbass operatives forgot to do a simple audio/visual bug in a monastery…

…Wait, did Istanbul even have monasteries?

Pfft, who cares? She dropped out of college for adventure and to do what she wanted. Not to study world cultures on her own.

With a tired sigh, she settled herself a few feet above the ground in the dark, being careful on the quiet street.

Boy, she could really use a coca-cola right now. That would make her feel better. That, and a big fat cupcake.

She was going to get one when she was done with all this spy crap…

Sarah reached into her tool belt that was strapped safely around her waist, grabbed a small power drill and got to work setting up the base that would secure the camera in place. That process would only take about five minutes tops.

Why did they need eyes on this girl anyway? Sarah knew nothing about her. All she was told to do was “Hey, go get a camera on this place. Make sure we’re able to get visual of someone going in and out the door”. That was it. That was all. But it still didn’t make sense to her! Obviously it was important, otherwise she wouldn’t have to have her solitary Friday night plans delayed.

Now, here comes the hard part—trying to screw the camera in place and turn it on. You would think it would be a simple task, but let’s see you hook up a camera while your legs are dangling five feet above the ground. It’s not as easy as it looks!

Placing a small lit flashlight in her mouth so she could see where she was screwing the nails into the camera, she concentrated on trying to get this whole thing done all the while complaining and cursing the British Government that was her boss. You know, if she had stuck around another semester in college, she probably would have a bit more skills to utilize other than what Mycroft liked to call “grunt work”. She could have went into drama classes—that would have been great for undercover work!

She could have paid attention more in her computer classes—hacking into top-secret networks sounded like the perfect thing to do with her time.

…And she also could have paid more attention in summer camp when they taught the campers how to tie secure knots.

Why didn’t she bring a ladder?

One loose slip of a couple inches down was her only warning.

Oh, shi—“ she began to swear, the flashlight in her mouth. “Aagh!

Two seconds later, she was on the ground in front of the door, tools from her belt slipping out, scattering about the concrete.

No broken bones, just a bruised ego. Obviously the noise would have caught the attention of whoever was living in the establishment. The door opened, but she didn’t bother looking at the occupant. She just stared up at the sky, her arms crossed over her chest, a broken camera next to her head, and a scowl on her face.

When I write this in my report,” she complained in a slightly pissed off voice. “—And this time, I will…I will not be kind about it…

Still lying on the ground with her arms crossed over her chest, she turned her head towards the resident of the apartment—flat, whatever!—and decided a little introduction was in order.

The name’s Sarah Doyle,” she greeted in the typical American fashion. “Whaddup?
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Slania Lamoreaux
 Posted: May 24 2014, 02:47 PM
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SHELKE has 26 posts
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It was a grey day outside, the clouds thick overhead. Early that morning, Slania had got up, dressed and went not to the Art School but to the Graveyard where her love lay resting. Death was a never an easy thing to face but she faced it every say. The man she wanted to spend forever with was gone, and today she felt the need to see him. She was supposed to be at the school, working on her portfolio. She would have to make up the time by working extra hard but that wouldn't be a problem. She had never shied from a challenge, or turned down long hours.

She had kept her head down when she walked, her red messy hair up instead of down. She was dressed comfortably wearing old clothes she used to paint in. She had thrown on the first thing she had found not caring about presentation. Her eyes were a touch puffy from a few tears that had leaked from her eyes without her consent. Though her heart felt sad, she was feeling less and less troubled by his death. She supposed that was the way of thins. Time soothes all wounds, even if it didn't heal them completely.

It was a simple grave. Really it was a simple gravestone. His body was back in France where his family was but unlike her own, there was no designated plot of land. It may sound morbid, but Slania already knew where she was to be buried: right next to the rest of her family. she took comfort in knowing that it things would be easily arranged. She didn't have to worry about it at all. she left a bouquet of flowers at the headstone and went home to have shower.

So she wasn't where she was supposed to be, so she supposed she couldn't blame the poor technician for being surprised by her presence. Slania, roused by the crashing at her front door opened it. NOw fully dressed but hair damp and feeling fresh she frowned at the person, girl, sprawed at her threshold. Slania whipped out her phone and snapped up a picture before sending it to Mycroft.

One of yours?

"What was wrong with the one already there?" she asked. Did they honestly think she hadn't noticed? She didn't mind, not really. Mycroft wasn't malignant towards her so she wasn't bothered.

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Sarah Doyle
 Posted: May 26 2014, 08:48 PM
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Chicky has 30 posts
British Government/Camera Technician


The beating Sarah’s ego had taken in the last two minutes was slowly fading. She relaxed a little, still on the ground, trying to mentally get herself ready to pick up her body off the ground and greet the occupant—was her name Slania or Slone? She couldn’t remember; she only skimmed across the report—with the full Sarah Doyle confidence she deserved. At first, the chick living in the flat was giving one hell of a bad impression because she took a picture of the poor camera technicians’ state. She kind of, childishly, stuck her tongue out for the snapshot.

She would’ve flipped the bird too if she had thought of it in time.

But then again, Sarah had to give respect to the woman. She would’ve done the same thing if the roles were reversed. That made her OK in her book.

"What was wrong with the one already there?"

Ah, so she noticed the faulty camera that the American was sent to replace! OK, that gave her a few brownie points. Sarah started liking her a bit more, and within seconds, her energetic spirit was fully replenished.

Oh, I’ll tell you what was wrong with it,” Sarah practically jumped up from the ground as if she hadn’t fell at all—thank goodness for the backpack for being her cushion.

Thus began her little rant:

…Well, she had to rant to someone. Mycroft wasn’t around.

The problem with it was the idiot who installed it before I came along hooked the visual in the audio and the audio in the visual. I don’t need to tell you that that was a big mistake. I was able to fix it a bit from a more comfortable location, but it ended up sounding like I was watching ‘Telemundo’—And let me tell ya, that’s a whole different kind of hell.

I was gonna have the little S.O.B. who was responsible in the first place fix it, but the Queen—that’s my boss, Mycfrot—decided that I had to be the one to replace the camera, because apparently, I don’t work enough as it is.

OK, so she was still a little miffed about her Friday night plans being ruined. The girl already worked three other jobs other than working for the British Government. She had to relax at some point this year! If her mother had seen her act like this, It would remind the old woman of her daughter’s temper tantrums when she was three. Of course, it wasn’t like Sarah was yelling and screaming. This sort of rant/temper tantrum had more of a sarcastic tone to it, one of the young woman’s signature moods.

No, the yelling and screaming was saved for guys who stood Sarah up on second dates and for her uptight sister-in-laws that her brother’s, for all of their cleverness, were dumb enough to not see how intolerable and evil they were.

With a quick grin on her face to show Slania—Sarah was 90% sure that was her name—that all was well again, the grin faded as Sarah opted to pick up the broken pieces of the 5,000 quid camera that the government had so graciously provided her with.

So, if you knew a camera was there, then you know Mycroft must’ve put it there,” she said, tossing a bit of the broken base in her hand before tossing it aside into the street without care. “Question: Why in the hell would you let him spy on you to begin with? That’s like giving the monkey a banana without having him do a trick first…
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Slania Lamoreaux
 Posted: May 27 2014, 02:23 PM
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SHELKE has 26 posts
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The girl outside her door was blonde, a messy blond dressed in tight fitted clothing. She was sprawled on the hard concrete, clearly the source of the noise. It had to have hurt, falling from that height unless she had learned how to fall properly. Slania herself had learned to do it only through the strict insistence of her father. Just in case. Everything was just in case but she didn't begrudge him the indulgence. She did it because her father only wanted what was best for her and it really was a good skill to possess. So she couldn't manipulate a sign wave, hack a computer or pick a lock. She could fall without breaking bones and one day it could save her life.

Hm. American. Typically the French and the Americans didn't get along. They found their cousins over the Atlantic to be brash, self centered and generally...stupid. They didn't think, they didn't care and their world revolved around themselves. But one shouldn't judge. Slania remembered her father's teachings well. Looks could be deceiving and just because someone looked nice, that didn't necessarily mean they were so. Stereotypes angered her, just as the rest of her country (and ever other), so the red head decided to ignore her mild irritation at the brash woman.

"I take it you don't want a glass of wine then?" she asked, being polite. Sure it was easy to toss Mycroft's name into the ring and while she was sure she was telling the truth you couldn't be too sure. Mind you, she did call him 'Queen' and 'The British Government' and people on the politician's side generally referred to him that way. Perhaps it was ever so mildly affectionate. Mostly people did like the man as though he were some kind of leper. Slania thought it kind of sad, but she was a champion of the underdog (socially, Mycroft is very much the guy in the middle being picked on).

Slania shrugged. "He does not mean me harm," she said. "He's nice to me. Hasn't asked for anything yet. S'been a couple of years," she said nonchalantly. She was sure he would ask eventually, but that was OK. He was probably due a favour or two. As long as it wasn't too dangerous it'd be fine with her.

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Sarah Doyle
 Posted: Jun 11 2014, 11:24 AM
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Chicky has 30 posts
British Government/Camera Technician


“Hmm?” Sarah asked in reply, as she picked up the last of the pieces that had fallen from her tool belt. “Oh, thanks, but I don’t drink alcohol.” She smirked. “It’s bad enough I drink caffeine, anyway, but thanks for offering.”

Caffeine. Sarah’s Achille’s heel. Something that should have been in her grasp, but due to the day’s agenda, she had to take her ADD medication, therefore preventing her from acting more obnoxious than usual. She could actually feel the effects of the chemicals in her brain. It was like a never-ending game of really competitive ping-pong, going back and forth and back and forth at a rapid pace, and she hated it, damn it!

And the doctors said it was supposed to help her focus…Those bastards…

All it did was involuntarily keep her up for 36 hours or so, make her cranky the next day, and lose her appetite, which made her even more hellish to deal with. What did she have to eat that day? Two bites of a roast beef sandwich and a glass of milk? That wasn’t enough for the 110 lb girl! She needed the food! But, alas, it wasn’t the first time she experienced loss of appetite with her meds. It was brutal during high school with all her peers sitting around her at lunch, noticing that she only took two tiny bites before focusing on school work. One poor weirdo had the nerve to call Sarah anorexic because “her head was becoming a little bigger than her body”…The poor asshole found himself kissing the camera technician’s locker within 2 seconds after she pushed him toward it with the speed of 60 miles an hour.

Normally Sarah wasn’t violent like that, but he caught her on a bad day…

The American woman sighed a bit, running her hand through her hair, as if it would calm the annoying buzz in her head. A futile attempt really. There was nothing to stop it. She was stuck until the chemicals wore off, and her head would become once again clear and calm.

This was really a long night…

“He’s nice to me. Hasn’t asked for anything yet. S’been a couple of years.”

“Hmm,” Sarah hummed in response.

That was certainly interesting. Mycroft not asking for a favor?…No wait, that was wrong. She had that mixed up. Mycroft being nice? Sarah wasn’t even sure the man cracked a smile that wasn’t condescending, let alone be nice.

Or maybe that was just toward her…

She shrugged, trying not to think any more about it, and zipped up her backpack after making sure nothing else was broken. She would fix the CCTV camera later after she ranted to her boss and had a good night’s sleep.

Well,” she said, shifting her backpack on her shoulder. “Better knock on wood, otherwise he’ll remember that you’re due…Hey, look, I’m sorry for my little rant earlier. I work three jobs already, do freelancing, tonight was supposed to be my night off, and falling from five feet in the air doesn’t really help with the mood, know what I mean? I would’ve yelled at Mycroft, but, surprisingly, I respect the man too much to do that to him…

Not to mention, yelling at Mycroft wouldn’t really help anyway. He would probably just stand there, rolling his eyes, trying to tune her out.

…But anyway, it’s not really fair that you were in my temper tantrum range, so I’m sorry again.”

The American woman held out her hand as a truce, a small smile on her lips.

I don’t think I caught your name,” she said. “Well, actually—that’s not true. I know it, but I think it’s better for the other person to just go ahead and introduce themselves. I may work for the British Government but even I know what lines not to cross and which ones to play ‘skip-to-my-loo-‘ on, know what I’m saying? Again, I’m Sarah.”
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Slania Lamoreaux
 Posted: Jun 17 2014, 02:09 PM
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SHELKE has 26 posts
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Wine? How could you not like wine? Wine was like water - it was required! All French children were given watered down water from the age of 10, or there abouts, and taught to respect the power of the poison. Unlike Brits, the French handled their drink very well and did not get drunk - or 'off their heads' as the english liked to say. They had many colourful expressions for intoxication, did British people. She didn't understand why anyone would want to stumble about drunk. falling down, unable to stand because your liver was doing over time and your head was spinning, vomit splattering the streets and all down your gucci dress while your friends refuse to hold up your hair, was hardly a dignified exit to any soiree.

Slania gave Sarah a a funny look which said she thought she was strange. slania drank all kinds of wine - it didn't matter what you gave her really, though had a fondness for Claret. It was the only thing she ever drank, her tastes refined only to wine. She had tried other things but sweet cocktails were too saccharine and whisky was too hard. She liked the strong bold, but often rounded flavour of wine - it's crispness, it's intensity, and its cleanness. Red wine was warm, rose fresh, and white sharp. It all depended on what mood your were in, the liquid slinking down your throat in sips of relish.

"I have tea," she added, though normally she wouldn't have pushed it at all, but seeing as the girl had fallen flat on her behind outside her door fixing a camera for Mycroft she supposed she should be nicer than normal. she wouldn't mind providing the girl with a beverage, though Slania was sure Mycroft would give her into trouble for inviting a stranger into her home. she might as well not leave the flat if she was going to listen to that. Bad things could happen any where, she knew that better than most people. If someone really wanted to get you, they usually did. Obstacles could be planned around.

Slania smiled lightly. She knew Mycroft would ask something eventually and she would feel obliged to respond in the positive but was that really so bad? Many relationships were built on such a give and take basis. Who knew how many threats to her the man has whipped from her life without her even knowing. Perhaps none, but it could be many, and she bore that in mind. she was glad to here the girl respected Mycroft. Slania wouldn't have liked it if she hadn't. A genius, brilliant in every sense, Mycroft deserved the respect due to him. Besides, so many people disliking him made Slania want to fight his corner. she did have a soft spot for the underdog.

"Do you say everything that comes to mind?" she asked curiously, unsure if she found the girl annoying or not. "Slania," she answered. "And you?" she asked, completely in the dark.

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Sarah Doyle
 Posted: Jul 20 2014, 02:47 PM
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Chicky has 30 posts
British Government/Camera Technician


Hmmm, tea. Sarah never really had tea before and she had been in London for a few months now. Needless to say, that was a crime in and of itself. So far, Slania seemed like a really nice young woman, considering that she was offering her a beverage in the first place. Plus, as far as finding a government worker landing on her ass outside of her flat, the French woman was actually keeping her cool, so major brownie points for that!

So, Sarah decided to be a good “house guest” and accept the offer.

Yeah, sure,” she shrugged nonchalantly. “If it’s not too much trouble, of course.”

It was true. There were times when Sarah spoke whatever was on her mind as soon as it was thought more than necessary. Her mouth had certainly gotten her into one too many fights. In all honesty, she was surprised that it had not gotten her banned from public places as well. Wait, strike that. She was surprised Mycroft hadn’t booted her out of the building for speaking her mind too much. It wasn’t something that could be helped. That’s how it was in her family. Nothing went unsaid. The environment surrounding the Doyle family was that if you had something to say, say it and you wouldn’t be judged.
Sarah shrugged again.

Not everything, really,” she replied. “I know when to keep my mouth shut in some cases…

Her face twisted a little as she contemplated what those said cases were.

Here are a few examples.

If a mission went wrong and Mycroft was pissed, keep your mouth shut and get out of the room fast.

If your brother’s slut wife with too much boobage—that’s right, boobage—was cheating on brother every weekend with a different man and threatened to tell the parentals about how Sarah was wasting time in England…she keeps her mouth shut, begrudgingly so.

If brother’s slut wife calls her a bitch…well, that’s when you full drop the camera, take off the earrings and high heeled shoes, and beat the crap out her and say whatever the hell comes into your mind.

But Slania wasn’t Mycroft being pissed or Sarah’s stripper-sister-in-law. So, there was no running and no cat fights that needed to happen.

Of course, the French woman wasn’t really used to the American’s personality. They had only just met. Not everyone accepted Sarah’s quirks right away. She realized this, and excused herself.

I’m kind of an acquired taste,” she gave a little cautious smirk. “…So Slania, tell me what brings you from France to England? I mean, it’s France. If you don’t mind me saying, it’s much more beautiful there than here. So…why the change of scenery?

Ever since she was a little girl, a trip to France was on Sarah’s bucket list. In fact, that was where she originally wanted to go, but it was a little more expensive for a college drop out to live there.

(OOC: I'm really sorry for the delay.This wedding planning has been crazy and harshing my muse. Luckily, it's all gonna be over on Saturday)
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Slania Lamoreaux
 Posted: Jul 28 2014, 05:12 PM
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SHELKE has 26 posts
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Slania didn't drink much tea and she was not an avid drinker. The stuff she did have was brewed via a kettle poured onto a bag sitting lonely on the bottom of a mug, its only company the sugar granules she had heaped inside. Soon to follow was cold milk, simply because she never measured the milk correctly if she poured it in first just like you were supposed to. She wasn't sure how anyone did. The rituals of the English sometimes perplexed her.

She let the agent inside not afraid for her safety, her life, or her furniture. It was a high end apartment, penthouse studio flat with large windows she had blinds and curtains fitted especially. The kitchen and bathrooms were both tiled but the large living room was carpeted with a sixty inch television, wooden carved glass coffee table and a fancy nest of tables in the corner. There was a lamp, a light pink suite, and patterned wall paper. There was a set of stairs leading to a bedroom and an ensuite bathroom, there was a downstairs bathroom too. The downstairs bathroom came with the apartment, but the upstairs she had especially installed. She was proud of her space, large as it was, isolated and perhaps a little cold. But it was home. She needed the space for her art work.

At the back near the windows there was a large desk with a half completed art work on the table, acrylic paint in little dots over the black paper. There was an easel, an oil painting, almost complete. The entire right hand wall was covered in art, two of them her own, a copy of proud pieces she had sold for a hefty sum. You shouldn't really have your own art up, she supposed, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

"Do you notice the landscape of where you come from?" she asked. "To me it is ordinary," she reminded her, for you often took for granted that which you saw every day. "A boy, brought me here," she admitted after a long moment. "What brings you to England? To the SS no less," she asked.

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Sarah Doyle
 Posted: Aug 11 2014, 01:11 PM
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Chicky has 30 posts
British Government/Camera Technician


Like a kid in a candy shop or a toy store, whichever you prefer, Sarah could not take her eyes off of the interior design that had graced Slania’s home in a tasteful, but extravagant way. Sure, it wasn’t exactly what one would call “homey”—it was more artsy, but it was a good kind of artsy. It suited the French woman. Plus, it felt like being in a nice museum without all those signs that said “Don’t touch”. It was kind of relaxing.

Sarah’s apartment, if she was ever in it, was more of the opposite. Pictures of movie posters would be hanging on the walls. Video game consoles would be everywhere on the floor. Basically, it had less of an open feeling than Slania’s place. It wasn’t as bright as her home. But, in conclusion, Sarah was hardly in it, and she slept at the office more than she slept in her own bed.

Maybe she should ask Mycroft for some time off…

Yeah, like that was going to happen.

As she settled herself near the kitchen, gently placing her camera equipment on the floor next to her, she pondered Slania’s statement for only a bit. Yeah, the grass wasn’t always greener on the other side, but obviously she never spent a semester of college in the isolated lands of Idaho. Long story short—Any grass was greener on the other side compared to that desolate wasteland. But the camera woman didn’t really give her opinion on that. She didn’t need to know the horrors of the American university she went to.

She also refrained on commenting excitedly on the sixty inch television screen that sat in the living room. Sarah could only imagine how great it would be to watch a classic film on a screen like that.

After that long pause before Slania replied that it was a boy who brought her to London, Sarah kept her mouth shut on that as well. It sounded like something that was any of her business, even if it was already in the report that she was supposed to read thoroughly.

But there was no way Sarah was going to keep quiet about why she was here. That would have been just rude.

Oh,” she waved a dismissive hand. “I screwed up back home. Dropped out of college, made the parents a little ticked off. I was supposed to be studying music and history and get a teaching degree, but I wanted to go into film. The university I went to wouldn’t let me based on my lack of experience at the time. So I thought why would spend my life doing something I thought was just work instead of something I loved and dropped out. Moved here to get a fresh start on life and film whatever it was that came my way…

The wheels in Sarah’s head turned through the memories that filled her brain. She remembered how disappointed her parents were when they discovered she dropped out. Her brothers weren’t a big help in easing the painful revealing process either. It was the third oldest, Daniel, who informed them. It wasn’t exactly a happy memory, seeing as how she planned to tell them in the first place. And it was hard. How exactly would you explain the situation to parents whom, all their lives, worried about their young daughter that was diagnosed with ADD, and did not have the same ambitions her older siblings did? Her family loved and supported her, of course, but a small part of Sarah felt like the black sheep of the family—she never really thought she could fully live up to their expectations.

Then she smiled at the mention of the SS. How she got into the British Government in the first place, now that was a good memory.

Well,” she smirked a little bit. “Mycroft found and hired me, as you can imagine. Although I think he kind of regrets his decision sometimes. I’m a bit of a handful.

A handful was an understatement…
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