⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝗳 𝙬𝖆͟𝖙͟𝖊͟𝖗͟𝖇͟𝖚͟𝖗͟𝖞 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ 𝒹𝑦𝑙𝑎𝑛 𝒷𝑒𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑡𝑡 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀. . . ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝖓𝖊𝖜𝖘?

She is just coming out of the office, ready to go home when she bumps into the young blonde. She grips her by the bicep, raised brow as she gazes at one of Waterbury’s known — troublemakers to put it nicely. “Matilda Byrnes. . . why are you out so late?”

Mayor Edwards is a fuckin’ milf . . .

“Not at this time of hour, young lady” she states, observing the younger woman closely. “And you’re certainly not dressed for a night run.” Her hand drops back to her side. “What are you running from, Matilda? What did you do?”

Rolanda tears her gaze away from the file and gazes up towards the door. Did she have an appointment today? She cannot recall. “Come in” she calls out.

yes daniela?

… is it a byline she’ll like?

Clever girl. The mayor is slipping into the journalist building, hands slipped into her coat. She exhales shakily, a sigh of relief at the warmth in here. “Daniela?”

This time. At the very least, Rolanda was tired of the horrible headlines. Regardless of that, the older woman smiles when seeing Daniela. She grabs the paper and reads the byline, “this is nice, you write it? Can’t imagine Dylan having anything nice to say about me.”