𝐄 𝐋 𝐘 𝐒 𝐈 𝐀 𝐍 {𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐦!𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫}

𝐅 𝐈 𝐕 𝐄

It only took a couple of days for Molly to figure out that googling "Peter" and "photographer" and "New York City" produced far more results than she would be able to narrow down without his surname. So she settled to waiting for him to reply to her text that his jacket was now clean. However, that was taking longer than she expected, and Molly quickly learned that she was not as patient as she thought she would be.

She continued to bury herself in work, writing as many small articles as she was given and still seeking to find a way to talk with Spider-Man. That was proving extremely difficult; she had no way of knowing where or when he would show up, and he had no known associates that she could contact. The man had been superhero-ing for twelve years, and the public still barely knew anything about him, other than the fact that he had been showing up less often than he used to.

Peter finally responded to Molly's text on another bleary morning, and Molly didn't see it until an hour or so later. For the past few days, she had been working hard on some new online scam people in the area had been falling for. When she finally picked up her phone, she saw Peter's text on her lock screen.

Peter

Hey Molly! Sorry I haven't gotten back to
you yet, but thank you for washing the
jacket! I'm free to pick it up whenever.
Would you want to meet for coffee
sometime soon? I could get the jacket
then, if that's convenient for you :)

With a small smile, Molly typed out her response, but she was distracted by Tasha barging into the small office. She quickly turned her phone off and set it down.

"Miley," Tasha began, and Molly tried hard to avoid wincing at the wrong name, "do you have that article about the scam yet? I need it on my desk as soon as you can so we can get it out. People want to know these things, and we have to write them quickly."

Shuffling papers around on her desk, Molly looked for the one where she had taken notes about the article. "Yes, I'm working on it now. It's close to being done."

"Good," Tasha said quickly. "Hurry up. I want it by the end of the day. In this business, time is money." She tapped her expensive-looking watch impatiently. "So get it done." With that, she left Molly staring at the empty doorway, wondering how in the world she would be able to finish the article by five o'clock that evening. Before continuing, however, she wanted to reply to Peter. She didn't want him to have to wait any longer before getting a response.

Hi! I would love to grab coffee
sometime, but I've got an article due
pretty soon that I need to finish up.
I should be able to get it done
by tomorrow, so would you want to
meet up then? I could run home
after work, grab your jacket,
and meet you at the coffee shop?

It only took a few minutes for Peter to like her message and reply that it sounded like a perfect plan. As she went back to writing her article, Molly was already looking forward to when she could turn it in and go meet Peter for coffee. She'd have to wait at least twenty-four hours, though, and that was easier said than done. Especially when her boss constantly demanded that she work almost faster than humanly possible to churn out articles full of fluff and fulfill the demanding duties of an intern as if she were still in college.

She ended up having to skip lunch, but Molly finally finished her article and emailed it to Tasha three minutes before five o'clock. As she packed up her laptop and papers to take home, she sighed to herself, wondering why she worked as hard as she did. She was underpaid and underappreciated, but it wasn't like she'd find a better job. She certainly had tried, but there were never any results.

Once again, Molly recognized her career's fate rested on her ability to get a big story. If she could become a known journalist, maybe someone else would be willing to offer her a better job with better pay. And that big story just happened to be an interview with the city's most elusive spider-themed superhero. How she would get the story, she had no idea.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next day passed agonizingly slowly; the only thing Molly had to look forward to was seeing Peter later that evening. It seemed like from the moment she woke up, everything began to go wrong with her day. She overslept by forty-five minutes, which meant she barely had enough time to get up and get ready for work. She wasn't able to grab any bite to eat for breakfast or pour a cup of coffee before rushing out the door to catch the train to work. The train was late, and it got stopped on the tracks for something, pushing Molly even further past the time she was supposed to arrive at the office. When leaving the train station, she narrowly avoided a quickly-dropping disgusting projectile from a pigeon resting on a lamppost overhead. And to top it all off, just as she approached the building, she stepped in a puddle of some unidentifiable brown liquid, staining her new shoes.

Needless to say, as she sat down at her desk that morning, Molly felt as if she had already lived four or five days in an hour and a half. Her bad luck didn't stop there. Of course, the moment she sat down, Tasha came marching past her door.

"Did you get my text this morning?" She demanded. It was then, as Molly was thinking back, that she realized she had left her phone sitting on her kitchen counter.

"Um, no, I didn't. I left-"

"I asked for you to get a coffee for me on your way in," she interrupted. "So, go get it."

In a moment of a lapse in judgement, Molly sighed sharply. "Can't you send someone else to go get it? I'm not your personal assistant, and I'm not here just to get coffee or do your dry cleaning. This is my job, and I intend to write for the Buzz. That's why I'm here, and if you want coffee, hire an actual personal assistant."

Tasha opened and closed her mouth in shock, seemingly unable to find words. Until she did. "You're already on thin ice, Marnie. Don't push it or you'll be wishing you had the personal assistant job," she spat, stalking off towards her own office.

Molly felt relieved at what she had said to Tasha, but now she regretted it. What if she was fired? Then she wouldn't even be able to afford her apartment, no matter how tiny it was. Once again, the day crept by at a snail's pace. Molly spent the hours tiptoeing around Tasha's temper and apparent fury at her for speaking her mind. After what seemed like an eternity, it was time to leave, and Molly couldn't get out of there fast enough.

She sped home as quickly as New York's transit system would allow her, and she finally was able to check her phone. There was Tasha's text, but there was also a message from Peter telling her that he would meet her at the coffee shop in half an hour. Molly changed into more comfortable and cleaner clothes, grabbed her phone and his jacket, and headed out the door. She knew that after the long and horrible day she had, the best way to lift her spirits would be to get some coffee and see a potential new friend. She was excited to learn more about him; something gave her the feeling that they could be spending a lot more time together if things went well.