April Daze for It's All About April
Jul. 2nd, 2014 11:43 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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section7mfuThe pretty redhead sat in the corner chair of the waiting room, her expression a dire warning that approaches should be made with caution. How she had ended up here was something she truly could not understand; it was like being sent to the principal's office for simply being herself. Come to think of it, that had actually happened back in her youth.
"Miss Dancer, Dr. Whitfield can see you now." April stood up, smoothed her blue mini-skirt and threw back her hair with something akin to indignation. She had the awful feeling that it didn't come off exactly as she had intended.
"Thank you ...' a quick look at the nameplace on the woman's desk gave April something to call her. "Miss Devlin." She walked past the woman with her head held high, even though inside her heart was beating too fast and she was feeling a little as though the proverbial hammer was about to fall.
On the other side of the door sat a middle-aged man with glasses and greying hair. His appearance was meticulous even if his face did not look particularly welcoming. April agonized internally over the possibilities inherent in living her life under the scrutiny of the Command. She did her job, and she did it well. Her partnership with Mark was in perfect balance as was her relationship to the top man, Napoleon Solo. What had she done wrong?
"Good morning Miss Dancer. I appreciate your being here, and returning my call so promptly." She wondered what would have happened if she had failed to return the call to UNCLE's head shrink... er... psychiatrist.
"You're welcome, and good morning to you." April's smile should have lit up his world, but he retained the same expression of disinterest.
"Yes, well... Miss Dancer, do you know why you're here today?" April sat up a little straighter, assumed an air of breezy casualness that was intended to make the man feel less doctor like. A futile effort as it turned out.
"Actually no, Dr. Whitfield. I received the summons and ... well, here I am. Perhaps you can explain the why of it to me." Darn it all, she wasn't a school girl in need of reprimand. Why was she here?
Donald Whitfield was not an unkind man, but he was a professional. Sometimes that put people off, set them into spirals of misgivings and bouts of unnecessary guilt of imagined improprieties. He made a mental note to try and lighten the mood.
"Please, I fear you may have gotten the wrong impression about this.' He took off his glasses and looked at the young woman, his own imaginations swirling now at the prospect of sending someone like this into harm's way. He had not adjusted to this new policy.
"You are the first female Section II agent in the Command, and with that there is a rather disproportionate amount of responsibility placed on your shoulders.' April let her guard down ever so slightly. This wasn't going to be a reprimand at least.
"We, that is Mr. Waverly and I, just want to make certain that you are adjusting to this role as a law enforcement agent within this international setting. Do you feel that you are, adjusting, that is?" He looked kind now, his expression softened as he inquired of the young woman as to her current state of mind.
April considered for a moment, not wanting to give anyone the impression that she couldn't do the job; neither did she wish to be disingenuous, giving the impression that it had all been a piece of cake, so to speak.
"Dr. Whitfield, the job is hard, no question about it. But I believe in the mission of UNCLE, and I think I am qualified and ... dedicated. I want to learn, and someday I hope I can teach other female operatives how to succeed in this job." That was it. April Dancer would someday, she hoped, be the example that other women would look to her at UNCLE.
Dr. Whitfield smiled, it was the kind of answer he had hoped to hear. This young woman was a trailblazer in a decade of change; she would succeed, he hoped, based on her attitude and aspirations.
"I'm very glad to hear you say that, Miss Dancer. I hope you will feel free to call on me should you have any concerns, or just need to talk about what you're experiencing out in the field. Your conversations with me will always be confidential, and I will help you in any way that i can." April finally let out a sigh of relief. Here was a man she might want to come to at the end of a rough mission; unlike her male counterparts, she understood and embraced the value of just 'talking it out'.
"Thank you so much, doctor. I really appreciate the open invitation, and just so you know... I can talk for hours." She winked at him, and was pleased to finally see a broad smile on the good doctor's face.
"I look forward to it Miss Dancer." She liked this man. He was probably twenty years older than she, but he was handsome in a way that suddenly struck her as very sexy.
"Please, call me April. Any time." Her smile was met with momentary confusion and then a timid grin from the seasoned psychiatrist.
His day had just brightened considerably.
"Miss Dancer, Dr. Whitfield can see you now." April stood up, smoothed her blue mini-skirt and threw back her hair with something akin to indignation. She had the awful feeling that it didn't come off exactly as she had intended.
"Thank you ...' a quick look at the nameplace on the woman's desk gave April something to call her. "Miss Devlin." She walked past the woman with her head held high, even though inside her heart was beating too fast and she was feeling a little as though the proverbial hammer was about to fall.
On the other side of the door sat a middle-aged man with glasses and greying hair. His appearance was meticulous even if his face did not look particularly welcoming. April agonized internally over the possibilities inherent in living her life under the scrutiny of the Command. She did her job, and she did it well. Her partnership with Mark was in perfect balance as was her relationship to the top man, Napoleon Solo. What had she done wrong?
"Good morning Miss Dancer. I appreciate your being here, and returning my call so promptly." She wondered what would have happened if she had failed to return the call to UNCLE's head shrink... er... psychiatrist.
"You're welcome, and good morning to you." April's smile should have lit up his world, but he retained the same expression of disinterest.
"Yes, well... Miss Dancer, do you know why you're here today?" April sat up a little straighter, assumed an air of breezy casualness that was intended to make the man feel less doctor like. A futile effort as it turned out.
"Actually no, Dr. Whitfield. I received the summons and ... well, here I am. Perhaps you can explain the why of it to me." Darn it all, she wasn't a school girl in need of reprimand. Why was she here?
Donald Whitfield was not an unkind man, but he was a professional. Sometimes that put people off, set them into spirals of misgivings and bouts of unnecessary guilt of imagined improprieties. He made a mental note to try and lighten the mood.
"Please, I fear you may have gotten the wrong impression about this.' He took off his glasses and looked at the young woman, his own imaginations swirling now at the prospect of sending someone like this into harm's way. He had not adjusted to this new policy.
"You are the first female Section II agent in the Command, and with that there is a rather disproportionate amount of responsibility placed on your shoulders.' April let her guard down ever so slightly. This wasn't going to be a reprimand at least.
"We, that is Mr. Waverly and I, just want to make certain that you are adjusting to this role as a law enforcement agent within this international setting. Do you feel that you are, adjusting, that is?" He looked kind now, his expression softened as he inquired of the young woman as to her current state of mind.
April considered for a moment, not wanting to give anyone the impression that she couldn't do the job; neither did she wish to be disingenuous, giving the impression that it had all been a piece of cake, so to speak.
"Dr. Whitfield, the job is hard, no question about it. But I believe in the mission of UNCLE, and I think I am qualified and ... dedicated. I want to learn, and someday I hope I can teach other female operatives how to succeed in this job." That was it. April Dancer would someday, she hoped, be the example that other women would look to her at UNCLE.
Dr. Whitfield smiled, it was the kind of answer he had hoped to hear. This young woman was a trailblazer in a decade of change; she would succeed, he hoped, based on her attitude and aspirations.
"I'm very glad to hear you say that, Miss Dancer. I hope you will feel free to call on me should you have any concerns, or just need to talk about what you're experiencing out in the field. Your conversations with me will always be confidential, and I will help you in any way that i can." April finally let out a sigh of relief. Here was a man she might want to come to at the end of a rough mission; unlike her male counterparts, she understood and embraced the value of just 'talking it out'.
"Thank you so much, doctor. I really appreciate the open invitation, and just so you know... I can talk for hours." She winked at him, and was pleased to finally see a broad smile on the good doctor's face.
"I look forward to it Miss Dancer." She liked this man. He was probably twenty years older than she, but he was handsome in a way that suddenly struck her as very sexy.
"Please, call me April. Any time." Her smile was met with momentary confusion and then a timid grin from the seasoned psychiatrist.
His day had just brightened considerably.
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Date: 2014-07-02 08:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-07-03 02:53 am (UTC)