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Fantasy X Politan
Ep.01 Chapter 2: Between the Waltz and the Jazz place

Ep.01 Chapter 2: Between the Waltz and the Jazz place

Samantha rubbed her shoulders. “It just the pressure. No need to panic.”

She breathed in.

She breathed out.

“Yo, Samantha. Fancy meeting you here.”

“Thank the heavens…” the knot in here shoulder began disentangling, only to make room for her to realize she had a headache coming on. “Why isn’t your editorial done?”

“No ‘hi’? Or ‘nice to see you’?” Barak chuckled. His ever present smirk plastered on his face.

It would be difficult to imagine a more clashing set of notes then the meeting between the editor and his deputy - if Samantha could be likened to a calculated, high strung verse of waltz, Barak had air of ambient jazz, meandering to the extreme.

“Barak will meet you guys later, if he ever gets his job done.” Samantha told the her editor’s friends. “As for you, my question still stands.”

“Cya later.” He shrugged at his friends who seemed perfectly casual in leaving a member of their clique behind, then he took a thinking pose for a long pause. “Culture’s got it.” He said with a theatrical snap of his fingers.

“Culture has four assignments to hand in before she can do your work for you.”

“It’s all good. You do it.”

“I don’t want your editorial - I’ve got my own, plus I need to finish the web layouts… and handle the all the printing for the other clubs, and-“

“You’re the one who pushed for two homecoming editions.” His eyes curved in a weird way that Samantha assumed meant he was laughing at his own joke.

“Well sorry for assuming I had an editor who was going to do his job.”

“Hakuna Mattata. Glad we got the misunderstanding out of the way, to be frank.” Barak turned to walk away, but Samantha grabbed the hem of his shirt to make sure he doesn’t go anywhere. “Yes, Sam?”

“Wrong direction for the newsroom.”

“We were almost out of tea, right? I’ll just hop to the shop and drop by later.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Yes, I will.”

“Don’t make me tie you to your desk.”

“Kinky.” Barak laughed. “Are sure you want to do this right in front of the girl’s bathroom?”

Now that she was reminded that there were people around and that they were staring, Samantha had no choice but to let the boy go.

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“Cya!”

“Just a second…” Samantha put her brain to overdrive, her headache mimicking the pain of handling Barak.

Now that she though about it, there was a way to get the boy to do his job… if she delivered her sales pitch right.

“How about this? We split the work.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Split how? I’m letting you handle it.”

“If you insist on stranding all journalism behind - you can walk around, gather the pamphlets from the clubs that haven’t handed them yet. Schmooze your friends, take your time. Doesn’t sound so bad, does it?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“I’ll even get someone to bring you your tea and cookies while the printer’s running.”

“Your treat?”

“My treat.” Samantha couldn’t help but smile. Hook, line, sinker. “You can even use the printer in the teacher’s lounge.”

“Better then waiting on our printer, that's for sure.”

“And while you’re waiting on the printer, you can drop by the library. Bridget’s been hounding us.”

“Wait… no. Nope.” Barak shook his head, making an X with his hands. “Nah-ah. No way. I’m not headed anywhere near the library.”

“One of us has to. She’s just going to grab the first editor she finds, I imagine.”

Quips and smug comments fired in both directions. Who was going to win? In the red corner was the calm spirit of Barak, the ever-chill editor - while the blue corner hosted the smug Samantha, his silvertounged deputy. It might have looked like the two of them were joking around to the uninitiated, but everyone knew it was a battle of wills beneath surface.

“Fine, you win. I’ll go do layouts and stuff in the newsroom.”

“Excellent.”

“You’re still treating me to that tea - the tasty, expensive kind.”

“Consider it done… after homecoming.”

He sniffed, slightly miffed at having such a trusty second in command. But he regained his calm a moment later. Sure, he was leaving to the newsroom, but he knew he had the last laugh. “Oh! Just one thing, Sam.”

“Yeah?”

“Clean up already, you look like a mess.”

Now that things were finally starting to go her way, the headache she’d been developing was starting to go away - oh, and the bathroom returned to normal.

It even looked cleaner then usual.

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