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“... and so I’m thinking if we end with a slow pan left that would really show the power better than—”
Kimball sighs internally and regrets every decision she's ever made that have led her to this point. She's grateful for Jax's enthusiasm with this advertising campaign for Chorus’ newly instituted rebuilding assistance programs, but the man has been talking for twenty straight minutes about whether to end the ad on a pan left or a tilt up.
If she's honest, she really, truly, does not give a shit.
She also has a meeting in 5 minutes that is entirely more important than a single shot of a 30 second ad.
“Jax, I really don’t think…” Kimball trails off when Jax doesn’t even slow down in his monologue. She turns to find Dylan's helmet tilted toward her, and despite the visor obscuring her expression, Kimball knows it’s the exact same, exasperated one she’s currently making.
“Now if we use the tilt BUT keep the coloring I mentioned earlier…”
Kimball’s been trying to encourage people to leave their guns at home most days, especially those in the offices, to try and rebuild a sense of normalcy. She’s guilty of ignoring her own suggestion, and today she’s glad she did.
She reaches under her desk, grabs it, flips the safety off, and aims just left of Jax’s shoulder. Not close enough to do damage, but enough to hopefully shut him up.
BANG BANG
Jax screeches and ducks, hands covering his head. Two bullet holes mark the wall behind him.
Two?
Kimball looks over to see Dylan, also with her gun out, seeming to come to the same realization she is. Great minds think alike, it seems.
Kimball turns back to Jax. “Figure it out, tell me tomorrow,” she orders.
“Y-yes President Kimball!” he squeaks, and then he’s out the door.
Kimball sighs and stows her gun safely back under the desk, then takes off her helmet to pinch the bridge of her nose. The bump of a chair sounds quietly as Dylan stands up and walks to her side.
“Now we know how to shut him up,” Dylan remarks.
Kimball laughs and stands. “I don’t know how you stand him.”
“I ask myself that all the time,” Dylan replies, grinning. “You kept your cool longer than I thought you would, though.”
Kimball smiles. Dylan's been something of her advisor lately, a calm presence. Kimball’s sure she’ll leave soon, to go back to her reporting job, but it’s nice to have her around.
“Anything I can help with?” Dylan asks.
“Kiss me,” is out of Kimball's mouth before she can think about it.
Dylan leans in, hand coming up to rest on the back of Kimball’s neck as their lips meet. Dylan’s a bit shorter and Kimball has to lean down, but it’s nice. She should’ve done this weeks ago.
She’s breathless when they part, but grinning. Dylan smiles too, looking pleased.
“Scrap what I said before. This is going in the ad,” says a voice from the doorway.
“Jax, if you don’t delete that my next shot will not miss!” Kimball yells.