It was the Best of Times

Agrippa looked about the office, taking it in as though it were an alien landscape. It was apparent they had toned things down from their usual attire- light grey blazer with dress pants to match. Their shirt still offered a pop of salmon though, and looking closely at the tie revealed the dogtooth pattern to actually be made of tiny little bats. Under an arm they carried a slightly oversized white laptop bag that had surely seen better days. It wasn't hard to guess that it had been years since the last time the author had to meet with someone professionally in an office.

"Not in-person. Seen clips of them, though! It's an interesting performance gimmick- I'm sure its even more fantastic live on stage."

The unicorn was smiling, though it was little more than a cordial expression at the moment. They navigated their way to whatever looked to be the most appropriate seat if any presented themselves.

Agrippa was sure Archie was either trying to butter them up or show off- either way, it was working a charm. Their brows hit the ceiling as they reached over to accept the gift.

"Ambushing me with gifts, are you? Well, I'm hardly one to say no. I'll put it to good use, I can promise you that!"

A hand felt for the seat behind them so they could sit down without having to take their eyes and attentions off of the Fairest. A sort of thrilling excitement took hold of their posture and expression as soon as he asked for a title.

"Cut Lillies and The Moss. The former about a haunting, the latter about a cryptid."

They leaned slightly forward, speaking in a lowered conspiratorial tone and gesticulating like one might when telling a ghost story to kids. Their eyes glimmered, and they paused just long enough for a dramatic effect to take hold before breaking into a giddy grin.

"You wouldn't be the first with that assumption. I think its the pastels. People expect a horror writer to look either goth or drab."

Considering the effect of the unicorn's mantle, there was certainly a double-meaning to be read into that. Whether it was intentional on Agrippa's part however was difficult to tell. They further settled themselves into their seat, pulling the laptop bag over their lap and unzipping a front pocket so they could slip the giftbox inside.

"Brought what I have of both of those novels as well as a few other things, if you would like to take a look!"

The request to see what Agrippa had brought kept their smile bright. Their hands moved to the laptop bag's main compartment, which they unzipped as slowly and quietly as they could manage while Archie went on to proposition them with the concept of a live reading event. 

"I haven't! I didn't even know they existed. If it could be set up I would certainly be interested. I've told a ghost story or two in my time, and I think I'm at least half-way decent. And I'm not one to get cold feet around public speaking."

Tone and expression projected a confidence in their abilities that far exceeded the trepidation of their words.

"If it would be better, I can even write a short story or two for-purpose! It could be sold as a sort of campfire ghost story experience, but from a professional author! I'm sure that pitch could get some butts in seats."

Again with that glimmer in their eyes- they were already falling in love with the idea. Their hands reached into the bag, now open, and pulled out a small green binder. It was one of those cheap cardboard things with the frosted plastic cover and metal rings. There was about a quarter-inch stack of paper installed within.

"Here. I have a sample of Cut Lilies in here, and the first chapter of The Moss!"

They plopped the thing on the table, sliding it over to the talent agent with eagerness born of pride.

Agrippa leaned back in their seat as Archie accepted the binder, basking in the shower of compliments and musings on expanding success. They weren't used to being spoken to like this, and they were lapping it up like the words were an oasis in the desert.

"For the short stories, all I need is an approximate length of time my narration needs to last, and a week's notice minimum. I haven't timed myself, though I'd imagine that half an hour give or take would be where most short stories I would write would end up, if I wasn't trying for a specific bench-mark."

The mention of a contract got a understanding nod from the beast.

"I see no reason to not give you the word now! Let us both have something to read over, and hope that my writings scare you more than yours scare me!"

They laughed, clearly (and perhaps naively) expecting their joke to be merely that and nothing more.

"I'll admit, I haven't dealt with this sort of thing before, but I'll try not to pester you too much with stupid questions. You're the professional here, I trust you know what you are doing." 

Perhaps it was the name dropping, perhaps it was the willingness to name clients that he knew Agrippa could easily speak to themselves, or perhaps it was just blind trust in a nice office with a nameplate- either way, the vote of confidence was given without a hint of irony.

"I think... I think I'll take the couch, if you don't mind."

They hadn't been expecting to be reading the contract right then in the office, but they weren't going to refuse the offer- it wasn't like they had anything better to do today. Having Archie right there to answer questions would likely be better than texting anyways. Plus it meant that they got to be in the room while someone read their own work, which was a rare treat. True to their stated intent, Agrippa took the contract to the couch, settled down, and dug in. They were about the furthest thing from a student of law and they hadn't the faintest clue about the legalese of contracts, but they were a writer and these were just words at the end of the day... they could spot something fishy if there was anything to be worried about, couldn't they?


As for Agrippa's own offering, the inside of the binder was filled with page after page of prose printed in 12pt New Times Roman. The text wasn't so tightly packed together that it was difficult on the eyes, but it was clear from the outset that the author was no layout artist. The content of the text, however, made up for any initial amateurish appearance. Cut Lillies was deeply atmospheric- nothing actually frightening happened in the snippet of the story that was on display, but the anticipation was built up like a quiet string quartet in a horror movie. A nearly pastoral scene of a young woman walking across a snow-laden path near her rural house was turned unnerving somehow. The second sample was less polished than the first- likely an editor hadn't gotten a chance to look at it yet. This one was describing a boy cataloging the plant-life in an old forest, only to come across a perverse display of animal carcasses, laid out in a manner nearly ritual. Like the first, it was more unnerving than outright scary, but masterfully so. It was getting fairly obvious that the beast was either terrified or enamored by wild land and forests.

Archie's newest installment in the long string of compliments that had comprised of this meeting so far took Agrippa's face from slack to beaming in an instant. Up to the point he had spoken, the beast had been lounging in silence staring intently at the alphabet soup on the pages in their hands. They had gone over it at least three times, and they were still sure that they had missed something, but lord only knew what it was.

"Thank you. I don't know, maybe I just ask the wrong people. Glad you see something in it they obviously didn't."

With some effort, they pushed themselves out of the couch's comfortable clutches and ambled over to Archie's desk, laying the contract on the surface between them.

"I only have one question-"

They slapped one hand softly on the desk, leaning on it as they pointed to the dotted line on the contract with the other.

"Do you have a pen?"

"And here I show up in this perfectly boring grey suit in hopes that I'll trick you into thinking that I have perfectly boring tastes, and you still pick out that I'd want the one in shiny, flashy pink?!"

The unicorn nearly giggled and shook their head

"I suppose there's no escaping it, is there? And with good reason, because you aren't wrong!"

With that, they leaned forward just a little further to pluck the offered pen from its stand. They uncapped the ornate thing, and with one smooth flourish, signed their name in script astonishingly neat for how quickly it had been marked.