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Jul 10, 2016 03:03PM

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{Age: 26 }
{Gender: Male }
{Occupation: single, owner of a popular bathing suit trademark and other things, hustler, worth millions, ect... }
(view spoiler)
{Appearance}
Oran holds himself confidently. He keeps himself moving to keep in shape, and grooms himself regularly. He doesn't tend to care what other people look like, but makes sure to always present himself highly. He usually keeps his dark hair slick, and his suit ironed.



{Age: 21 }
{Gender: Female }
{Occupation: single, unemployed, black sheep to the family, hippy, little belongings to her name, ect... }
(view spoiler)
{Appearance}
Gypsy took to the turn on, tune in, and drop out culture quickly. The clothes she has consist of bright colors, and plenty of hand made jewelry. Her dark brown hair is twisted into dread locks and her eyes are a light grey. Her grooming is minimal, usually smelling strong of smoke.




Age: 24
Appearance: http://media.emirates247.com/images/2...
Name: Peter Soren
Age: 25
Appearance: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/...
Hope they're okay XD I just prefer simple characters


They coasted in a small, black limo with heavily tended windows. They were getting close to the train station where they were to pick up Oran's niece. He'd gotten a phone call from his brother, Joseph, explain that his wife had passed away, and felt that his daughter needed to start new. Oran was kind enough to let her fill as his secretary, though became more wary as time went on. Unsure of what the girl was like. Even though they were close in age, he hadn't grown up with her, or his older brother all that much either.



"Stop here." Oran told the driver. The car stopped in front of the platform, just as people were getting off the train. He cussed and looked around, "I didn't think to make a sign or anything."
Oran was startled when the door was opened surprisingly soon. A girl climbed into the car promptly, dripping in jewelry with only large pieces of cloths for clothes, one tied around her waist as a skirt, and another twisted around her chest for modesty. "I thought I'd have to wait." She said with a small laugh, smelling heavily of marijuana smoke as she sat, slipping off her sandals, crossed her legs, and lit a cigarette.
Oran looked towards her with a little shock, quickly realizing with his niece after she got comfortable and closed the door. This realization didn't phase his faint horror, looking over the dirty looking girl as she settled right in. He couldn't help but stare at her hair, never having seen anything like it, with beads woven into her dread locks. He gave an awkward laugh, pressed against the corner of his seat, then casually cracked his window. "G-Gypsy?" He said, taking him a moment to remember her name. "Gosh. How did you know it was us?" He said.
The car began to move again, Oran quickly adjusting himself, looking professional again. "Well it was rather you or the president in a fancy car like this." Gypsy answered with a hazy laugh, the cigarette dancing between her lips as she spoke, till she took it between her fingers and blew smoke.

Taking a moment to analyze the girl, Peter quickly realized that he wasn't impressed. His head turned to the left, looking back at Oran, 'Cute?' He mouthed with a silent chuckle. She could've put on some kind of decent attire, he thought to himself. When she lit the cigarette, Peter couldn't hold in his sigh, though he didn't mean for it to come out as loud as it did.

Oran shot a glare in Peter's direction, Gypsy seeming to be uncomfortably casual so far. "This is, something like my adviser. Mr. Soren. Peter Soren." He introduced them, then dragged his fingers through his hair while Gypsy looked back towards Peter.
She only glanced towards him with a look of unamusement before fixing back on Oran. "Well. I'm glad to see you're doing well, uncle Oran. Not that I wouldn't have guessed." She paid him a smile that said, Lets not play.


Gypsy gained a small smirk, seeing the two men weren't taking to her at all. She picked up her single bag, putting it in her lap and tap it proudly. "Now much. All my belongings are in here." She continued to watch then, finding amusement in their discomfort, which was somewhat rare sense most people of the streets liked her easily.
Oran looked towards Peter, "Well. Uh. Maybe we should stop somewhere or get you some clothes... or maybe we should go strait to the office..." He stared at Peter, hoping for a second opinion, seeing what they'd be doing with his niece.


Gypsy looked towards Peter, listening to his offer, though she had no reason to protest. "Alright." She said.
Oran pulling his fingers through his ungelled hair, "Sorry to ditch you so soon, Gypsy. I have work to get back to though. Mr. Soren will take good care of you. Tonight I'll take you our for dinner and we can catch up." He assured her.


Oran couldn't stop dragging his fingers through his hair as he walked past the women at the front desk. "Ladies. Please inform me of any possible secretaries..." He said and went to the elevator.
"Oh. Sir..." One of the women said gleefully, having a whole line of possible people for the position, though he was already gone.
He went to his floor and walked through, throwing finger guns and pats on the back to his happy staff. He then went to his office, taking a comb and can of gel out of his desk and walked up to large mirror clock hanging on his wall. He began to gel his hair, unaware that the front desk was trying to get through to him.
Gypsy smirked when Oran gave a playful goodbye, then looked towards Peter while the limbo began to move again, taking to the parking garage where the driver assumed they'd move to Peter's car. "So." She said casually, even though her smile looked a little mean. "Mr. Soren. So nice of you to... What are we doing? Getting clothes? Groovy. Anyway, thank you for spending the time you could be snorting blow with my uncle, to hang with lil' ol' me." She said. She didn't know that they did drugs, even though Oran occasionally did, just assuming they were the stereotypical rich businessmen.

Annabelle stood at the front desk, her hopefully future boss just ran right past her like she was invisible. "Can you please try calling him again?" She begged the young lady at the front desk who had already called Mr. Oran 5 times without an answer. Anna called last week about a job opening and was told to come into an interview today, but if she couldn't get ahold of him, how would she get interviewed.

Oran combed his hair then looked over as his phone began to ring. He took his time as he walked over to his desk and picked up the phone. "I was just at the front desk. What is it?" He asked politely.
The woman looked towards Annabelle happily as she spoke.
Sir... Yes. I know. You got away before I could tell you... Yes... Yes. I have a Ms. Annabelle Jenkins here with me. She's looking for a position as a secretary looks very promising... Yes. Well, when do you want to make an appointment... Oh... Oh! Yes.... Yes. Of course. No need to dabble, I'll send her right up... Yes, sir... Oh. Thank you so much! Alright Mr. Ivory. B'bye."
The woman hung up the phone and grinned at Annabelle excitedly, "Oh goodness, girl, you've got an interview with him right now. You're so pretty. No time to stop by the bathroom and powder your nose." She woman jotted down his office on a piece of paper, then tore it off and handed it to Annabelle. "Go on. Hurry. And best of luck!"
"Oh right. Excuse me." Gypsy said with faint amusement, obviously not apologetic. She grabbed her bag and climbed out of the limo, "Oran was likely given a good word about me. Oh, how was he fooled." She laughed faintly, climbing into the passenger seat of his car, like he'd offered. "Though I'm sure he realized what he'd down only after agreeing to do all this." She said, holding her sandals and her bag in her lap with her legs crisscrossed again. "I ought to be more grateful." She said. "I'm surprised how quickly he ditched me though. Go figure." She gained a slightly sly smile, knowing she was rambling, and knowing it likely didn't make Peter feel any more comfortible. She looked towards him with a small nod, "Gypsy. Oran's niece. Nice to meet you." She introduced herself formally.

Peter tried his hardest not to scowl or to tell her to shut up, he was more respectful then that. He listened to her and sighed softly as he climbed into his car and fastened his seatbelt, turning to look at her. He gave an approving nod when she introduced herself, "Peter Soren. Likewise." He said simply and started the vehicle. "So which would you rather wear, a formal suit, or blouse and slicks?" He asked looking over at her. She needed a shower, but Peter knew that wasn't going to happen today, unfortunately. Maybe he could just drop her off at Oran's home? How would it reflect on Oran if his niece walked into the building smelling like marijuana?


Oran groaned deeply with exhaustion, just by looking at the note he'd jotted on when his brother gave him the call. He'd written down Gypsy's name and whatever seemingly important qualities his brother had described to him about her.
Gypsy
21
mom dead
...
It took a moment for him to realize someone had knocked on his door. Beside his office was an open, but authorized, area with a desk meant for a secretary. Oran could have found himself an office on a less busy floor, though he didn't actually mind the bit of noise that flowed into his office from the people working on the floor.
Oran walked over and open the door, his eyes then falling down to Annabelle. "Can I help you?" He asked politely, though it took him only a split second to realize who she was. "Oh! Right. The front desk, and, uh, right..." He stepped out of the way, holding the door open for her and gestured towards his desk. "Come in and take a seat." He said, snapping out of his hue and taking a more professional tone. "You'll have to excuse me it's been an eventful day."
Oran watched her, taking note of her appearance. He didn't typically taking serious judgement of people, simply not caring, unless the person was to represent him or was as foreign as his niece. Annabelle was attractive to say the least, though she was young, making him wonder if she'd know how to work.
Gypsy looked ahead, waiting for them to start moving. She didn't even know that seat belts existed till she glanced over towards him. She paid no mind and laughed when he asked with clothes she would prefer, "Pant suit or slacks? Wow! How retro. I would have expected to be forced into a dress. Time doesn't just stop in some places though." Despite her rebellious nature, with her new wave California fashion and freewill ideals, she still didn't like to fight against people too much.
"Slacks and a blouse." She answered. She talked quite a bit more and in a casual manor than most people would in Peter's presence, but she still tried to make conversation. "Mr. Soren, I don't know anything about Oran. Is he married?" She asked.

Peter had already started the vehicle but he wasn't going to move until the young lady had her seatbelt on. He watched her for a moment as she spoke, "You're more than welcome to wear a dress, as long as it's appropriate, modest, and professional." He said then gestured to his seatbelt, "Now if you wouldn't mind getting buckled, we can get this taken care of." He said, offering her a slight smile, though he didn't think he could without making a face at the smell that now filled his car.

"I understand the job opening you saw was little more as an accountant or phone maid. But as it so happens, a position has opened up today as my personal secretary. It's a bit more difficult than the other jobs that you may have applied for. Please tell me now if you are uninterested." He looked towards her with only a subtle smile. He didn't believe is scaring people, especially woman. If she proved unable to work under pressure, he could fire her just as easily as he could hire her.
"Seat belt?" Gypsy looked down and picked up the simple over the lap belt. "What the hell is this for?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. Most cars were still being made without seat belts, and laws didn't require them. She was a bit more curious than meaning to argue, looking down at the straps.