Gabriel checked the bathroom mirror. 

One asymmetrical black tunic, thoroughly lint-rolled.

Check. 

One pair black skinny trousers, thoroughly lint-rolled.

Check. 

One pair black suede ankle boots with stacked heel but good arch support, also lint-rolled for good measure.

Check. 

A touch of brown mascara.

Check. 

A swipe of tinted lip balm.

Check. 

A touch of said balm on the cheeks to achieve a becoming “I’ve slept this week!” flush. We stan a multitasker.

Check.

Cute new rose gold hoops.

Check.

Hair in loose bun secured with cool carved hair sticks from Chinatown in order to show off cute hoops and conceal the fact that I need to find a stylist and get a haircut.

Check. 

Vibe equals “Omega who understands the value of a first impression, is professional, is ready to do The Work elbow-to-elbow, but is not part of the capitalist system.”

Big check.  

The board meeting was upon him—time to look behind the curtain and see the wizard. He had pictured Victoria Park Anderson several ways since speaking with her, and had landed on “Glamazon of a Certain Age.” He was going with tall, willowy, black sheath dress, and an elegant updo with side-swept bangs.

Maybe smoking a cigarette in a holder à la Holly Golightly?

Maybe wearing a ring filled with poison à la Catherine de Medici?

Maybe he had watched too many old movies?  

He swiveled once in the mirror, trying to see if there was anything else he could add to or subtract from his ‘fit that would affect the way the board felt about him. Then he realized he was being dumb. He closed his eyes and ran the script he had prepared in his head in case this exact burst of insecurity happened.

Gabriel?

     Yes?

Are we seriously doing this? Are we thinking the hiring committee chose us as director because of our looks?

     Not really, no. I have a pretty good resume, tbh, and I give a hell of an interview.

Then do our looks matter that much at this meeting?  

    Honestly, no. But.

But nothing… But… Wait… You know what? Throw on that cuff bracelet. It gives “free-thinking yet dependable.” And then stop worrying about your looks.

    Fair. Got it.

Okay, then. 

He was done. Time for the big commute to the second floor. He walked out of his office, hung a right, went up the stairs, and stood outside the meeting room door, listening to the muffled sound of a male voice coming from inside. 

He was on the agenda at the end of the meeting, and he was supposed to present himself at 7:45. It was 7:42. 

For once in his life, he was early. 

What was he supposed to do? Stay in the hall or go in?

If he knocked at 7:42 was that being eager or ingratiating?

If he knocked at 7:45 was he punctual? Or a slacker? 

Before he could finish his calculations, the door opened. A tiny, beautiful Asian woman with an impeccable loosely curled bob, a glowing complexion that defied all attempts at chronology, and a very French-spensive looking navy skirt suit stepped out.  

“Gabriel?” she verified.

“Yes, I’m Gabriel.”

“I’m Victoria Anderson! We spoke when you were sweet enough to call me the other night.”

So much for “Lanky femme fatale with a cigarette holder,” but she was indeed gorgeous. He’d gotten that much right.

“Oh! Mrs. Anderson! How lovely to meet you in person!” Gabriel reached out to shake her hand.

Victoria took his hand and beamed at him and turned her cheek for an air kiss, which Gabriel supplied, thanking God he'd done a semester in France so that he knew the cue. She shook his hand and gave it an extra squeeze. “Please, call me Victoria! I’ve been looking forward to meeting you since we first saw your resumé!  I knew you were the one!” She cocked her head and listened to the voice in the board room for a moment.

“My son is just finishing up a presentation, so we’ll head in and when he’s done, and I’ll introduce you to everyone. Come this way.” She opened the door, and they slipped inside quietly. A few of the people seated at the long table in the darkened room turned and smiled at them, and Gabriel politely smiled back, his upper lip trembling slightly from nerves. The rest of the board members were looking at a pie chart being projected on the wall. 

Gesturing at the pie chart was… "Dr. Anderson,” said Gabriel slowly, shocked, and then feeling silly for being shocked. Anderson… Clinic… Legal Fund… Obviously he would be her son.

“Oh, have you met Alex?” Victoria whispered.

“Yes, ma’am, I have. I was a patient of his. Four years ago.”

“Oh!” said Victoria brightly, and then when Gabriel’s words sank in, her eyes widened and softened. “Ohh. Oh, Gabriel. I didn’t know you were a survivor yourself. I’m so glad you’re here with us. What a blessing you are,” she said, squeezing his forearm with a grip that was surprisingly strong and bracing for such a delicate hand.

Gabriel wasn’t sure where to put the idea of being a blessing, but he knew it was a very nice thing for someone to call him. He smiled “Yes” but shook his head “No” and hoped that conveyed an acceptable response to her assessment.

“Are there any other questions?” Dr. Anderson asked the room.

“Do you have any other questions?” Gabriel remembered Dr. Anderson asking him. He sounded exactly the same. It was a little hard to tell in the glare of the powerpoint, but he looked the same, too. 

Wait. Did he, though?

Is his hair shorter now? Gabriel thought it might be. 

Was he always that tall? A trickle of adrenaline was loosed in his chest—Thanks, PTSD—But he breathed it away and gave his shoulders a wiggle to loosen them. 

He’d been planning to go to the clinic to thank everyone and open a direct channel of communication between the clinic and the legal office anyway. Running into him tonight instead was no problem. It was a good thing, in fact. Things didn’t always have to happen according to the scripts and timelines he created in his head. He was flexible. He’d roll with this.

“No questions? Well, that wraps the report, then. I see my mother hovering back there which means my time is up. Thanks, everyone.” Dr. Anderson switched off the projector and gathered his notes.

Victoria tapped the switch on the wall to bring the lights up and elevated her voice very slightly. “Everyone? If I could have your attention for just a moment?”

You could have heard a pin drop on velvet as the heads turned Victoria’s way. Gabriel tried to look stable, humble, pleased, and dedicated all at once, but he was very nervous, and going through something, and he wasn’t sure he sold it. 

“This is Gabriel Cooper. Gabriel is our new Legal Fund director. He comes to us straight from a clerkship with Justice Angela Wethers of the California Supreme Court, who, as we all know, has spoken very powerfully on the subject of Omegan rights. We are so happy that Gabriel has joined us here at the foundation to help us accomplish our mission. Please, everyone, give him a warm welcome."

The room applauded enthusiastically and the people around the table unanimously greeted him with welcoming smiles. Gabriel felt himself blush. 

Multitasking sheer matte lip balm on these red cheeks? Gilding the lily. 

Then he did exactly what it had just occurred to him to try not to do. He found Dr. Anderson with his eyes. Dr. Anderson was looking back at him, which… Obviously he would be under the circumstances, but somehow Gabriel was still unprepared when their eyes met.

His blush ratcheted up immediately, and he cursed his redheaded genes.