Rebecca Tuck

Rebecca leant back in her chair, tilting her desk lamp to dull the glare off the white desk, and the piece of paper sitting on top of it. The clock above her desk ticked menacingly; how did it become two in the morning already? The architect rolled a pencil between her fingers and judged the merits of getting some much needed sleep, versus getting this blasted proposal done before she had to ship it off to the client at noon. Rebecca was pretty certain that they were going to get it - after all the work they had done in Australia and New Paris they had gained quite a reputation. Besides, Lauren had a way of making these things happen. Rebecca was sure that it had a lot to do with coffee, and perhaps a little bit to do with Demons, but she had learned it was best to just not ask.

There is a disgruntled yawling from one of the dark corners of the room. Rebecca looks behind her, eager for a distraction, and makes a high-pitched whistle.

“Bast? Come here you bastard cat!” she cries, with a tone of clear affection.

The bandy and dishevelled cat works its way down from its accustomed perch on the highest shelf in the room, navigating open filing cabinets and precarious stacks of paper with ease. The architect's desk clatters as she reaches for some treats to feed the cat with, who promptly leaps up in an attempt to 'hunt' for its dinner, and lands squarely in the middle of Rebecca's design. Two messy pawprints and planted right in the middle of the floorplan.

Perhaps it was the late hour, or perhaps there was simply a capricious wind in the air, but Rebecca saw those two marks planted ungainly in the middle of a high-class set of meeting rooms and had only one thought:

“I wonder if I can work around these without the client noticing.”