Work Text:
Deborah is sitting alone behind her desk when Ava walks in.
She peeks over her laptop. "Woah, is the ex-girlfriend back in town already?"
"What!" Ava panics, throwing frantic looks over both shoulders.
Deborah shakes her head. "Relax. I'm just wondering who the getup is for."
"Oh pshh, this old thing?" Ava preens.
It's a brand new designer bomber jacket and she paid over six hundred dollars for it.
"I just... thrifted it the other day..." She squints at the wall.
"From where? The men's section of Banana Republic?" She snorts at her own joke.
"Ralph Lauren," Ava whispers under her breath.
"And those pants that actually fit you?"
"A gift from my mom, actually. Something about highlighting my 'breeding assets' to attract a mate." She air quotes.
Deborah has trouble looking away for a very very brief moment.
Ava twists and turns a little, trying to get a look at her own ass, "Does it look that good?"
Deborah doesn't answer that. "Why, are you looking for a new married couple?"
Ava can't suppress a smile so she rolls her eyes. Deborah smiles back, small and warm.
Deborah has noticed something recently, something she maybe should have noticed a while ago. She grants herself some grace, though. She had a lot going on at the time. She couldn't very well think about the new blazers her head writer was strutting around in when just seeing her face was enough to set Deborah's blood boiling. Now she's finding that even without the excuse of the seething fire of betrayal, her blood pressure still kind of... spikes around Ava. It's annoying.
Ava pea-cocking around with her little Warner bros. paycheck and her little throuple. She bets anything Ava had been going to the gym for them. She didn't have those shoulders six months ago. Or maybe she did, and Deborah just never noticed them under her frumpy shirts and flannels. It's a wonder what a little confidence and spite can do for a once forward-necked hunchback of a girl. She puts a quick mental pin in that for later. Ava and Quasimodo have almost the same hairstyle. Oh, and hand size! Anyway.
It's... good that Ava is dressing more professionally. Colors that compliment her skin tone. Collars that accentuate her collar bones. Belts... thick leather belts that Ava can rest her big hands on when she's thinking, stance wide and taking up space. Sharp jaw jutting in sharp relief as her tongue plays over her perpetually chapped lips. The crisp;y ironed sleeves rolled over flexed forearms as she takes charge of the writers room. Talking, gesturing, ordering and being watched, listened to, obeyed. It's not just the clothes, Deborah can admit. Flattering as they are, It's the energy that's changed most. The way Ava holds her body, around Deborah especially. She's not as self-deprecating and meek. She can hold her own and fight back and even win. She's grown and it shows in things like the statement watch and the tailored pants. She's strong and... and handsome.
"No," Ava says, violently snapping Deborah back to the present.
She swallows. "No I uh. I think I might take a break from dating, actually. Something they said maybe kind of... Resonated."
She's gone shifty and uncomfortable in her own skin again. Ava never did say where they worked but it shouldn't be too difficult to find out. Even easier to get them fired. Anyone who would willingly let Ava go has to be a complete idiot.
She shoots Ava a flat look, one eyebrow raised.
Ava sighs dramatically, throwing herself into a chair. "They said I had some kind of unresolved issues about an ex. That she- um. That I didn't want to open up or like get attached."
"Well that's stupid. You get attached to everything. Even that squirrel in the parking lot who slashed your tires."
"She just gnawed through the first layer," Ava says, defensively.
"And now you feed it quinoa."
"I stopped actually. I read it might be too high in calories, since they have more of an Atkins diet-" she begins to mansplain.
Deborah ignores her. "And you open up constantly. That's what writing is. That's what we do."
Ava chews on her cheek. She looks at Deborah head on and stares into her eyes. Deborah stares back. Ava's breathing is a little irregular and there's a bit of a frantic energy to her rapidly blinking eyes. Deborah leans in and raises both eyebrows impatiently, exaggeratedly.
She smiles tightly and looks down. "You know what. You're right. I should just forget it."
"Attagirl," Deborah praises. She pulls her glasses from the top of her head as she unlocks her phone. "I don't want to hear any more of this hung up on your ex crap," she adds, adjusting the glasses on her nose to read the small text of an email.
Ava turns away, lips clamped shut. She clocks the exit just as a PA rushes in Ipad first. She rushes at the opportunity to escape, bomber jacket swishing loudly.
"Plus, you can do better than wolf girl! She can't tell a joke to save her life," Deborah yells after her.
She settles down in her quiet office and starts giggling to herself, "I mean attathey."