Okay so I added a little more to this
IT’S STILL NOT FUCKING DONE YET THOUGH ugh
god Mordecai even when you’re a businessman you’re still an awkward little shit around Margaret
Margaret Robyn Tanner was always the kind of woman who wore herself well, which, Mordecai figured, was one of the short list of reasons for her great success. She was intimidating, cunning, beautiful, and never took ‘no’ for an answer. If business was war, Margaret was a walking arsenal. Perhaps the only thing sharper than her attire was her impeccable talent at being one of the most shrewd businesspeople in the city, perhaps in the state.
Maybe that was why Mordecai’s palms were always sweating whenever he went to meet with her.
He stood in the elevator, watching the numbers count higher and higher as he felt his stomach sunk lower and lower. He was nervous, as he had every right to be. Even for a guy as straight laced as he was, there’s not a person alive who meets with Margaret Tanner and doesn’t feel at least a twinge of anxiety.
A bell chimed, signaling his arrival, and he cleared his throat as the bronze elevator doors slid open. Black, well-shined shoes strode against plush carpet as Mordecai approached the receptionist’s desk. The young woman glanced up at him from over her spectacles, then smiled sweetly when she recognized him.
"Hello, Mordecai," said Eileen.
"Hey, Eileen. I’m here to meet with Marg—I mean, Ms. Tanner," replied Mordecai, reaching into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and producing a card. "I have an appointment. 4:30."
"She’ll be just a moment; her 4 o’clock is running a bit long," said the mole, subtly motioning her head to the closed double doors. "But you’re more than welcome to have a seat, if you’d like. It should only be a few minutes."
More waiting. Great. As if the blue jay wasn’t nervous enough.
He sat in one of the two black Herman-Miller armchairs, next to the matching couch, folding his hands in his lap.
"Would you like something to drink?" Eileen asked from the desk. "Coffee? Some water? Maybe something a little stronger?" She winked at him, and Mordecai chuckled reluctantly.
"Uh… no, thank you," he said, then refocused his attention on trying not to look completely terrified. Even after spending four years in business college together, he still had trouble masking his apprehension around Margaret. He wondered why he even still bothered trying to.
The minutes dragged on for an eternity. Five minutes… fifteen minutes… twenty minutes. When Mordecai pushed back the sleeve of his jacket to glance at his watch for what he felt to be the millionth time, the tall, oak double doors suddenly swung open, revealing the slender dark frame of Margaret between them. She wore a black form-fitting skirt that was cut above the knee and a matching blazer set off by a white, high collared shirt. She looked stunning, as usual.
"Mordecai," she said, her strong voice echoing through the waiting room, "My apologies for keeping you waiting for so long." The blue jay stood, adjusting his silk tie, and she strode over to him, shoulders back and arm outstretched.
"Heh, no worries," he stammered, his mouth dry, as Margaret took his hand and gave it a firm shake.
"Well, I’ll make it brief. I’m sure you’ve places to be, as do I," she said, turning and walking back toward her office doors. Mordecai quickly followed behind her. As he entered her office, Margaret turned to close the double doors behind them. "Oh, Eileen?"
"Yes, Ms. Tanner?" The mole looked up at her boss, awaiting instruction.
"Please call and let Mr. Angel know that we’re still on for dinner at 8:30," she said.
"Right away, Ms. Tanner," replied Eileen, picking up the phone receiver on her desk and beginning to dial as Margaret shut the office doors. The robin turned to face Mordecai, who was standing around awkwardly with his hands in his pockets.
"So… who’s Mr. Angel?"
"It’s not important. Please, have a seat," she said, motioning a hand to the two black armchairs situated in front of the desk. Mordecai sat, trying his best to look comfortable as Margaret strode over to a tall, wooden cabinet at the far end of the room. "What do you drink?"
"Well, I really don—" Mordecai began, glancing over just as the cabinet doors were pulled open, revealing shelves stocked with fine amber liquors and aged wines. She was looking at him expectantly, and he knew that there wasn’t going to be leaving that office without having a drink. "Uh, I’ll… have whatever you’re having."
"Very well," she replied, a vague smirk tracing her beak. She turned away again, and Mordecai let out a mental sigh of relief at the bullet he seemingly dodged. He gazed over the desk and out the window, where the city extended far into the horizon.
"Hell of a view," he said to the tune of ice clinking against glass. "You can practically see the whole city from here."
"I don’t really notice," Margaret replied flatly, pouring amber liquid into two matching crystal tumblers.
"Oh… well, I guess, you would get pretty used to it after a while," the blue bird said, clearing his throat, only to find a short glass full of liquor and ice suddenly drop into his field of vision. He straightened himself up and took his drink. "Thanks."
"Whiskey on the rocks," she said, more to herself than to him, taking a sip from her own glass. She leaned against the front edge of her desk, facing Mordecai. "Father spoiled me on it. I guess I’m just as old fashioned as he was."
Mordecai took a drink of whiskey, swallowing it awkwardly. “Your father.”
Sharp eyes glanced down at him, and Mordecai could feel himself shrink in his chair.
"So what brings you here, Mordecai?" The calmness in her voice wasn’t doing much to help his anxiety. She set her glass down on her desk and looked him over, arms folded.
"Well, ah," he began, shifting about in the chair and putting on his best business voice. "My employer was hoping to, uh, get in contact with you… about, um…"
"Let me guess," she cut him off, looking almost amused. "Maellard thought he could send you down here to sweet-talk me into an acquisition. Cute, but it’s not going to work." She stood, circling around the end of her desk and sitting in the large armchair on the other side. Mordecai looked confused.
"A… Acquisition? I’m not following."
"Well, it’s no secret that Maellard & Maellard has been trying to get a hold of my father’s company for ages."
"Yeah, but… I don’t think that he’d send ME to—"
"Don’t insult my intelligence, Mordecai," Margaret answered, her eyes suddenly steely. "You’ve only been working under Maellard’s banner for the last two years—I’ve been a part of Tanner Enterprises for nearly two decades.”
Mordecai suddenly became very aware of how much he was starting to sweat.
"My father may be gone, but he worked hard to make this company what it is. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let a decrepit old fart like Maellard take all that away."