leasaads

[leasaads]

It's an unusual comment, sure, but it isn't dripping with sexual innuendo, so she'll take it, tracing her finger down the bridge of her nose – pausing, for dramatic flair, on the small outcrop of bone at the middle. "Must be the nose, because it sure ain't the hair." Swirling the contents of her martini glass, the corners of her mouth lifted, she points, "has anyone told you you look like Jerry Seinfeld, Lee?" Lea wouldn't necessarily recognise him – but she was familiar with his work, and, despite finding herself in a post-work funk of Biblical proportions, Lea wanted to be caught in a good light. "Please, join me. This People's Princess could use a stiff drink."

@leasaads setting: some bar

Late at night, leaning over the counter of some undescript Manhatthan bar, Lee finds himself caught between a handful of strangers. Most of them dismissed, until his gaze finds her.

"Has anyone ever told you, you look like Princess Diana?" She doesn't — at all. And yet, it's the bit Lee's decided to hit her with. "Except, of course, I heard she wasn't a drinker." Everyone's got their flaws, he reckons.

[leasaads]

Lea's eyebrows lifted with pleasant surprise at Morgenthal's response. Casually crossing one knee over the other, she swivels in her seat to get a better look at the man, the corners of her mouth etched with amusement. With her hands raised as if in a truce, the tips of her fingers still shimmering from the condensation on her martini glass, she levels: "look, I don't envy you, Laurie. It's hard enough corralling white-collar criminals – authors are an entirely different ball game. And, besides, why bring in the deputy when you already do it so well?” She chuckles at his remark, a cascade of dark hair tossed over her shoulder, "oh, this old thing? It's going to strut off on its own one of these days. Ah, naturally, we can't let the fine patrons of this establishment think you anything but rugged and dangerous. How about another round? That is, if your Batmobile isn't waiting for you outside, of course."

Laurie smiled. “Your condolences are appreciated. It’s my enthusiasm that’s died, unfortunately. I’m sure that after a couple of scotches and after the weekend has passed it’ll resurrect itself as if nothing has happened. Only it will be brutally murdered come Monday: I have a whole host of meetings to look forward to. Care to take my place for the day, Lea?”

He eyed her blazer. “Now I don’t know anything about fashion, but that is beautiful. I wouldn’t wear it myself, though, it would ruin my tall, dark, and handsome image.”

[leasaads]

One of the many perks of being a friendless divorcee was the freedom. No one to cook for, talk to, tidy up after when she turned the lock in the door – only a stale, sterile apartment, utterly absent of another beating heart. So, after work, Lea Saad could regularly be found at any one of the swanky bars, restaurants, or dimly-lit grottos dotting Manhattan's uptown avenues – often buttering up prospective clients, but just as often alone, nursing a tangy Cosmopolitan (either a man, or the drink), at the bar, a peach-satin blazer draped over the back of her chair, a signature red-lip smudged at the corners of her mouth.

Turning a blind eye to the Red Socks v. Yankees conversation happening next to her, Lea slides her dark, oblique gaze down the lacquered bar-top, finding a pair of familiar shoulders hunched over a flashing white screen, a familiar gradient of silver at his temples. Downing what was left in her martini glass, she clears her throat: "my condolences, Laurie." A beat, her brows forming arcs, as she clarifies: "for whatever it is you're reading–" she cocks her head to his phone, "that has you looking so sullen. Don't tell me another beacon of English literature turned out to be a complete freak."

✧･ﾟ— OPEN STARTER

— SPOTLIGHT BAR ; LATE EVENING

Laurie frequented Spotlight so much that he thought he should have his own table in the corner dedicated to him with a golden plaque on the wall to prove it. Unless he was completely swamped with work, he was there every Friday night without fail and ordered at least two scotches. Most other days, he would just sat there for hours, forgetting all responsibilities and the outside world, bathing in dim lights, doused in anonymity. Despite the bar being so close to his office, he doubted that anyone recognised him. Laurie didn’t dress to stand out, didn’t make a scene when he’d drunk too much… he was just his usual reserved self and enjoyed the company of strangers.

He was scrolling through the calendar app on his phone to see what delights he had in store for the following working week. Monday meeting at 9am, 2pm meeting with the sales team, another meeting, and another meeting, an online meeting to shake things up a bit… Laurie thought he should just live in his office, set up a camp bed in the corner and a little stove to cook canned soup and marshmallows. But this was the life he chose, the life he always wanted, to be wealthy and have the world at his feet. Meeting were okay by his standards.

And it meant he could spend whatever he wanted at expensive bars on whatever he wanted to drink, without having to worry whether or not he could afford another meal for the week. Oh, he’d been there. And it was a place of despair and desperation he prayed he would never return to. Part of him was glad that he got divorced before earning his fortune and power as he was fairly certain Emmy would do anything to take what she could from him. He believed her to be vindictive enough for that.

Laurie locked his phone, pushed it over to one side, and took a swig of his scotch. Although he didn’t have the least bit of interest in sports, he tuned in to a conversation two guys were having about the latest events in the world of MLB until something better came along to distract him.

[leasaads]

"Lost, definitely lost." The steady look in her eyes belies any sort of apprehension or disorientation, though. Dutch courage is a helluva drug. Swirling the olive in her martini glass, Lea plucks a brow: "unless I should be looking for you. Tell me, why is it that someone would be tracking you down? Promise I won't tell," she vows, delivered with a wink.

open to: all where: backrooms @ gentille fille/faux folie

Even in the backrooms, the music booms loud enough to make framed pictures rattle. They decorate a lengthy, dim hallway that's restricted access only.

Well — it should be.

"Bonsoir," spoken to the figure. "You lost, or lookin' for me?"

[leasaads]

if i speak

[leasaads]

— BASICS

Name: Lea Saad Age / D.O.B.: 11 November 1988 Gender, Pronouns & Sexuality: CIS Female, She/her, Bisexual Hometown: Park Slope, Brooklyn, New York Affiliation: Civilian, various political ties. Job position: Corporate attorney on Wall Street. Education: NYU; Fordham School of Law. Relationship status: Divorced. Children: N/A. Positive traits: Determined, persuasive, adaptable, resilient, passionate. Negative traits: Impatient, smug, bitter, lacks empathy, occasionally unethical.

— BIOGRAPHY

Born and raised in Brooklyn, Lea is raised by immigrant parents fleeing civil strife in Lebanon. Though the Saad family carries deep scars, they are a tight-knit unit, comprised of Amir Saad, a cardiothoracic surgeon at Mount Sinai Heart (b. 1962–2019), Alessandra (b. 1966) and their two children, Lea and Jude (b. 1990).

A daddy's girl, Lea excels in academics and attends NYU before graduating fifth in her class at Fordham School of Law.

Works for several years in Boston, where she meets her husband, politico Dexter Ellis. They are married for four years before disagreements over whether or not to have children devour the marriage. Ends bitterly.

At the end of her marriage and with the sudden death of her father, Lea moves back to New York and begins working for the NY District Attorney's Office. Sets her sights to bigger and brighter things and eventually climbs the ropes of Kirkland & Dessoukey LLC, a major law firm headquartered on Wall Street, as a junior partner/corporate attorney.

More to come!

— WANTED CONNECTIONS / PLOTS

Coming soon!