doing something no one's even tried [will]

we're doing something no one's even tried
and, yes, we're terrified
but watch what happens

February 2004
the first Wednesday of the month
Vantage Point, London

Perhaps this was too much. She hadn't gotten a promotion yet, or even a transfer out of the Lifestyle beat. But the growing stack of letters in her Prophet mailbox, the continued followup coverage Duncan was churning out, and the invite to talk on the Wireless at the end of the week -- it was getting to her head. Of course, so were the threats in some of the mail. On the back of her chair, a long peacoat rested, with the collar still popped when she left the office. Sunglasses? In these cloudy February days? Her own column would mock those. So Cordelia was a little paranoid. Sue her!

Cordelia resisted the urge to lean on the tabletop and perch her head atop her folded hands, figuring it would be rude if William Dasher walked in the door and she looked like a bored school girl. Instead she leaned a little further back into her seat, twisting her head over her right shoulder to look out over the stunning view. She was paranoid, yes, but also proud of herself. And why shouldn't she be? Cordelia let herself have a little smile as she gazed down at Trafalgar Square.

Vantage Point had been her idea. She just wanted to celebrate the success of her article a little bit more, and William seemed more likely to enjoy the energy here than the hustle and bustle of Frida's. Now, a quarter past one in the afternoon, the majority of the lunch rush was thinning out. Not that she would know if Vantage Point was normally busy at noon - it was a wee bit out of her budget for regular visits.

She smoothed down the skirt of her soft velvet dress. Her purse was set on the sill, and next to her a neat stack of parchement sheets, neatly tied with butcher's twine. On top, the dark, worn leather cover of her diary -- well, an older volume of her diary. On the table, two glasses of water were at each of their places. It was a little crowded, and Cordelia was sure it would be more crowded as the working lunch continued.

The Valentine's 'Boozy High Tea' was advertised on the menu in front of her. Cordelia idly wondered if Michael would be interested in that sort of thing. A server arrived with her cocktail, a Golden Guardian, and Cordelia let herself have a small sip. She was a wee bit early, and watching the entrance fairly attentively -- when her publisher slipped in, she gave a small wave.

@William Dasher

All of a sudden, Will had forgotten about his dislike of heights.

Phobia was a strong word. He just...wasn't a fan, like he wasn't a fan of ketchup; they both his mouth feel weird. He'd never been to this bar before, despite the capital being rife with swanky bars of this type, he was a pub man but it wasn't his decision to make. He'd just get over it, he told himself, as the lift doors closed behind him and he found himself trapped and frowning at his reflection in the gilded doors.

With a few seconds to spare, he tucked his shirt into the waistband of his trousers as he adjusted his collar, his long fingers sliding his glasses to sit more snugly on the bridge of his nose, his attention diverted by a discreet ding! that announced his arrival. Clearing his throat, he stepped out, only to be greeted by a smartly dressed host.

"Hi," Will said with a smile. "I'm looking for Cordelia Leighton?" He asked, sounding unsure as he followed the man out onto the terrace and instantly wished he'd brought a coat. His dark eyes flicked around the rooftop before he spotted a dark haired woman with a table right on the edge and he winced, only to change it quickly. "Thanks, I see her," the writer said helpfully as he pointed, then returned her wave as he strode across the space, neatly avoiding the tables.

"Cordelia?" He announced himself before he smiled, the corners of his eyes wrinkling warmly. "May I?" Will asked, gesturing to the free seat at her table before he dropped into it. Oh. She had a cocktail. That meant he needed one, too. It was Wednesday. It was basically the weekend.

He ordered something called the London Standard but he didn't read the ingredients. He had a funny feeling that in a place like this, they wouldn't steer him wrong. "How are you?" Will asked with an ever ready smile. "I saw your article!" He told Cordelia quickly. "Congratulations," he told her warmly. "I thought it was great. Clear, concise and informative," he nodded - just how he liked things. He settled down, his long legs crossed at the ankles as he caught sight of her books.

"How's it  all going?" He asked her, genuinely interested, eyes bright. "Haven't forgotten about me now that you're famous?" Will joked easily but there was a mild bout of panic. While reporting paid less, it was steady work. Books and novels were considerably more effort. Clearing his throat, he undid his top button.

Cordelia looked over Will as made his way through the establishment to her table. He was dressed smartly, she thought. Not like someone who had to be warned away from denim on denim. Perhaps a tad underdressed for the weather, but the patio was enchanted to maintain a pleasant room temperature. He waved back. Cordelia dropped her hand, took another sip of her drink as he joined her. "William! Of course, please," she said, nodding as William pulled out his seat. It was a pleasant enough politeness -- of course he could sit, she was waiting for him, after all. 

He seemed a little -- not surprised, but Cordelia thought she could see his brain pivot as she set down her cocktail. Perhaps that wasn't the done thing? Cordelia's working lunches didn't have a script, but she had thought that drinks were understood to be part of it. Hm. She tried to take a mental note of that moment, but her mind was crowded with other things. Like this compliment, for instance. Cordelia dipped her head demurely, letting her cheeks dimple into a smile. "Thank you," she replied, trying not to fish for the words she wanted to hear. Clear, concise, informative, yes, but what of moving, or evocative? It was tempting, but William had offered praise without prompting. She would take it.

"Hah, famous." Cordelia gave a tight smile. "That's certainly a way to put it." Unless you were Ministry, Cordelia was fairly certain nobody who read her article knew her name. And if one was Ministry -- "Maybe infamous is more accurate." Cordelia took another sip of her drink. "It's all a bit overwhelming, honestly. I knew it was an important story, but I never thought it would become --" she lifted one hand, moved it in a circle beside her head, "-- so big, I suppose. It's a little alarming, to be honest." She let out a short laugh, a little nervously. "I couldn't forget you, of course. Though, do book deals come with security, by chance?" She smiled to let him know she was joking, but Cordelia's wide eyes gave away a little of her geniune fear.

"Oh gosh," he replied with wide eyes and a playful grimace as Cordelia full-named him. He only really got that when he was in trouble and when he was really in trouble, William Arthur. Then he knew he was in the shit. "Will, please," he insisted with an easy smile. Once seated, he rubbed his hands together briskly, despite the rooftop being toasty warm.

Will laughed with a shake of his head. "Not at all," he told Cordelia lightly as his drink arrived. He thanked the waiter and took a cautious sip, pleasantly surprised by the taste and the faint worry that he'd be able to sink them all afternoon without batting an eye. His smile softened as she spoke, watching her intently as he nodded along. "The breakthrough piece is always terrifying," he agreed with her quickly. "But it gets easier." The pressure to keep up the performance, however, was not.

"You started a conversation," Will announced gently. "That's a wonderful thing," he smiled at Cordelia. "Enjoy it," he insisted as he reached across the table and tapped the back of her knuckles with an index finger and a warm smile, hoping to ease her nerves.

Will paused, his glass halfway to his mouth before he stopped. "Ah," he replied to Cordelia as he set the glass back down and his smile was small. Will didn't particularly enjoy signing more than one deal with an author at a time. From personal experience, it became increasingly more difficult. Some authors were divas and wanted advances. Some were lazy and didn't stick to the agreed deadlines. A lot of the time, the pressure became too intense and they suffered with crippling block.

Will wanted to level with Cordelia. He liked her. She was a very sweet girl and if she wasn't thinking about another book, then he'd be concerned. "Sometimes," he answered vaguely before he frowned, hating the non-answer he'd given her. "I'd love to offer you that," he told her, genuinely wanting the best for her. Signing authors was difficult but keeping them was even harder. "Tell me your concerns," he asked Cordelia. If they got to the source, then he could be honest and proactive.

"Will, then," Cordelia said, trying to rewire the part of her brain that wanted to default to full names when dealing with people who, you know, had a sizeable amount of influence over her career. "Will," she said again, with a smile and a nod. It was easier the second time.

"Trying to enjoy it, I promise," Cordelia said, returning Will's smile. The breakthrough was terrifying, which she had never considered before - well, having a breakthrough piece. William's touch on her hand was grounding, almost brotherly. It was a loss when he pulled his hand back.

Her concerns? Cordelia's smile faltered, eyes going wide with a hint of alarm. It had been a joke. A bad one, evidently, with too much genuine fear behind it. "My concerns." She took another sip of her drink. "I mean, I want to write this, regardless, but -- have you seen today's Prophet?" Blast, she should have brought a copy. "I suppose it's not really in it, more between the lines. But." Another sip. When she set it down, Cordelia folded her hands over each other on the edge of the table, trying to steady them. "Someone, maybe multiple someones, who is quite upset has gotten their hands on my home address."

Ah, the tremble. Cordelia curled her fingers tighter over each other. "Usual disagreements, muggle-bashing and so on, but also threats. Howlers, explicit and implicit, filling my mailbox the last few days. It's got me quite paranoid. Perhaps it's silly of me." It wasn't silly. "I'm off to America soon, if it doesn't die down, and I'm staying with -- somewhere else, for the moment, but it's not much of a security plan, is it? Go and hide, and wait it out." Cordelia looked up from her hands, meeting William's eyes. "I think it will be apparent in my manuscript that I don't care for hiding. Don't care for it at all."

It felt much too tense too early in the conversation -- Cordelia took another sip of her drink, longer than before, to brace herself. "And given that I may name specific names and policies in the book, you can imagine that I am a touch afraid of another explosive success."

Will smiled fondly. He'd always liked this - the mixture of excitement and trepidation authors often got in the build up to a new book release and he always got swept up in it; it was second-hand joy. "Don't worry too much," he told Cordelia warmly, sure as anything that it was easier said than done. But he was sure she had a firm support system. However, Will had misunderstood - she'd meant security security, not job security. No wonder she was freaked out.

Will shook his head as Cordelia asked if he'd seen the paper. He hadn't, which was odd, but he listened to her carefully before his dark eyes widened in surprise. "I'm sorry," he began, sounding dumbfounded. "What now?" She was getting threats. This was the seedy side of journalism. They were either jealous or scared...or really, really liked her and had a bad way of expressing it.

"Oh gosh," he said softly, a frown creasing his face as  he watched her with caution. "How bad are they?" It was none of his business, of course and it really didn't matter because the entire thing sounded horrific. At her offer to go into hiding, Will let out a noise of indignation, mid-sip of his drink. Forcing himself to swallow, he shook his head. "Absolutely not," he told Cordelia sternly, both to that and her worry that she was being silly.

"Have you told anyone?" He asked her pointedly. The Ministry was usually the first port of call but over the past couple of years, he couldn't say he had a lot of trust in the powers that be. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as she assured him she wasn't one to roll over and play dead. "Good girl," he nodded sharply. A holiday might be good for her, as long as she eventually came home.

"More the reason to go ahead and do it," Will told Cordelia swiftly as he looked at her before he smiled encouragingly. He placed his drink down on the table softly as he fell into thought, chewing on his lower lip absently, his eyes flicking back to her face. He didn't want to push her but it was important for Cordelia to understand that Will understood and that he supported her. "So, we need a plan," he announced. He still wanted to publish her and she still wanted to write. The rest was just superfluous.

"How are your wards?" He asked Cordelia, inquiring about her home security. He was sure that she had already updated everything already but just in case. "I know a great cursebreaker," he went on to explain. "She's expensive but she gets the job done." He paused for a moment. "You can use Write Hand for anything, too, you know," Will smiled. "Someone is always there." While that was true, it was usually just Will and a Chinese take away but the thought was still there.

There was a shift in William's expression, some sort of realization as Cordelia went on. Cordelia wondered what she had said, what he had thought she had meant. Well, he hadn't seen the Prophet (she really should have brought a copy, Merlin's beard) so maybe it was just because he didn't have context. The context seemed to be a little alarming to him, like he hadn't had experience with it before.

(Deep in her gut, a bitter voice asked mean questions --

where had he been during the war
what had he written
what had he done
what had he lost
had he the right to advise her
who was he to advise her

-- that she drowned out with another sip of her drink.)

How bad were they? Cordelia shrugged. "Not fun. Mostly legal threats. Some violent." That had been the most upsetting -- that there were people in the government that would resort to violence to quiet her. She should be proud, she was being listened to, it was clearly impactful, but a not-small part of her wanted to curl up and hide. Was already curling up and hiding. She hated hiding, but Cordelia wasn't as brave as she wanted to be. "My family -- they're all Ministry, so I'm worried about backlash to them." Who else? "My boyfriend, who I'm staying with." Cordelia furrowed her brows. "That's about it, I think." She should probably tell Edith, tell Mary, tell Ari and Camm, but... "And you. That's all. I don't want to involve DMLE after, you know," she shrugged, "criticizing their whole operation."

There was a small fear Cordelia had, that Wiliam and his agency would drop her now that she was a risk. But there was some fire burning in Will's eyes now, and it was reassuring. "A plan," she echoed, a small tremor in her voice. Thank you, the tremor said, on a wavelength beyond the hearing, for believing me. For taking me seriously.

"My wards are pretty involved," Cordelia said. "But I've done them all myself." A professional cursebreaker sounded out of her budget, but the magic would probably be stronger than hers. "If you could give me her information, that would be -- thank you." She did not want to move -- she rather liked her apartment, cramped as it was. "And, thank you." She bit her lip. "Maybe I can write there, until this all dies down."

Speaking of -- Cordelia's eyes slid to her stacks of papers. "I've got the travel manuscript in good shape, I think, and..." Cordelia trailed off, running her fingers over the leather of her diary. "Well, I thought maybe you'd like to flip through this. It's hard to figure out where to start."