Work Text:
Adrian Andrews’ apartment was small, tastefully decorated, and very tidy. About an hour earlier, Franziska had approvingly listened to Adrian’s short tour of her kitchen and combination sitting room-office. They were now chatting together over tea (lapsang souchong for Franziska, an individually made herbal blend for Adrian) in two well-stuffed floral-print chairs by Adrian’s desk.
All the previous times the two had had tea while Franziska happened to be in town, they met at the same café near the Gatewater Hotel. When Adrian mentioned over the phone that her apartment was much closer to the Prosecutor’s Office, Franziska more or less invited herself over, for the sake of logistics, of course.
Adrian’s hand that was not holding her mug was idly petting Shoe, who was curled up in her lap while she spoke. Her older cat, a longhaired calico named Clawdia, was walking back and forth rubbing at Franziska’s ankles.
“I wasn’t sure about looking for another job so soon,” Adrian said between sips, “but what with the DeMasque thing the whole store just makes me so frazzled now. I mean, it’s been a while since the theft and I’ll stay until I know for sure I’ve got another position, but…” she trailed off, looking blankly at Shoe.
Franziska knew in some detail about the DeMasque robbery and murder earlier in the month, from Adrian herself and from reading the news. She thought it both ridiculous and fitting that Wright had ensured that the phantom thief would never be punished. She sipped at her tea.
“Where are you looking to work now?” Franziska’s words snapped Adrian’s eyes back into focus.
Adrian chewed the inside of her lip. “I’ve been talking with some of the managerial folks with the city library. They’re looking for an event planner for the next few seasons and it sounded like they’re interested in me.” She paused for a moment. “I think it’d be nice.”
Franziska noticed a small smile gracing her lips. She uncrossed and re-crossed her legs, prompting Clawdia to leave the wake of her ankles and leap onto Adrian’s desk.
“They would be lucky to have such a capable woman as yourself on their staff, Adrian.” Franziska informed her.
Adrian’s surprise at the compliment quickly gave way to a broad smile. “Thanks, Franziska” she beamed. Franziska nodded and closed her eyes for a moment. Looking at the other woman just now made her chest and face uncomfortably warm.
Franziska was neither stupid nor foolish; she knew that her reactions to Adrian were most likely due to attraction, and had known since she was 16 that she was a lesbian. However, she had determined this entirely through flustered perusals of fashion magazines and quickly-deleted internet research, and through an early easily-identified distaste for men. Franziska had, after all, had very little interaction with anyone outside of her father, Miles, and the witnesses and defendants she carved through in court (Occasionally meeting and being flustered by women at the bar-required law courses, or the accomplished friends of her older sister only aided the same conclusion).
Her friendship with Adrian was largely untested waters. Franziska had struck up contact with her again after landing in Germany after the Engarde trial; she had been frustrated and vulnerable, and the anxious older woman had seemed like the perfect person to complain to. This newness was frustrating- yet another way in which she failed to be perfect. Thus far, her main tactics of pursuing Adrian’s friendship, and potentially other affections, were to listen to her attentively (she remembered this strategy from her teenage hours spent researching the perfect romantic relationship), and to compliment her frequently. Franziska had come to this second habit accidentally, after praise of her work ethic had made Adrian giggle, her voice several shades sweeter during one of their early phone calls. This scheme seemed foolproof to Franziska- she always got a positive reaction from Adrian, and only ever stated her genuine opinions, which to her were more or less objective truth.
They were both silent for a minute or two. Franziska watched Adrian smile down at Shoe and scratch his ears. The next to speak was Adrian, with a small frown. “Sorry I don't look really, uh, put together today.” She laughed.
Franziska frowned and tugged at her sleeve. “Whatever do you mean, Adrian Andrews? You look as lovely as you always do.”
Adrian laughed again and looked at the floor, tugging at her ponytail. “It's just that I forgot to do my makeup before you got here. It's a little weird, I usually don't go out without at least foundation so I'm, uh, not used to anyone seeing me fresh-faced.”
Franziska looked past the general pretty shape of her face at the more specific evidence. On closer inspection, she was clearly without her typical eyeliner and darkened brows, and acne scars were visible along her jaw.
“Except, I did, uh…” Adrian laughed under her breath. She was looking somewhere behind Franziska's shoulder. Her expression turned mischievous and a little sad. “While I was working with Matt and we weren't, you know, going anywhere, I wouldn't wear any makeup. It really grossed him out, I think. It made him stop hitting on me, he used to all the time when we first started out.”
Franziska very nearly stood from her chair and whipped the nearest fool, except that she had left her whip at the von Karma townhouse and standing would place her far closer to Adrian than her crush-driven anxiety would allow. Instead she rapidly tapped her heel against the tapestry rug and fumed. “What a despicable fool! Even were he not a vile murderer and pig, that alone makes him beyond loathsome.” Franziska tugged hard at the hem of her skirt, the fabric of her gloves sliding quickly against it. Adrian watched her with an odd look in her eye. “Any dolt with functioning eyes can see that you look just as winsome, if not more so without a painted face.”
Adrian laughed again. Her smile made her eyes wrinkle more than Franziska had ever seen them do. “Thanks, Franziska. It means a lot coming from you.” Her head tilted a little to Franziska’s left, and she scratched Shoe’s sleeping head. “Your eyeliner wings always look sharp enough to cut someone.”
Franziska huffed a surprised-flattered-dismissive laugh. The compliment had scattered her train of thought (various violent comments regarding Matt Engarde) and left her stewing in a confused brew of emotions. She re-crossed her legs.
Adrian continued, “It took me forever to get the hang of eyeliner. It’s hard enough doing anything near your eyes when you can’t see,” she laughed and tapped the side of her glasses.
Franziska nodded. “I remember how grueling and… infuriating it was to learn to apply.” She frowned into her lap. Since she had (with the help of her teenage little brother) mastered her standard face of makeup at age eleven, there hadn’t been a day she neglected her routine save for a few days of intense head flu. “Had I not an image to uphold, I would like to drop the whole foolish affair!”
Adrian smiled and nodded. Her eyes looked sad. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”
On the way out, as she said her goodbye and thanked her, Adrian surprised her with a tight, short hug. She swung the both of them a little in place, something like a slow dance. Her sweater- or perhaps her hair?- smelled of thyme and soap. Franziska managed to finish the visit without her fluster becoming too evident, and took a moment to feel content before she marched on to the prosecutors’ office.