Some people will tell you that you can’t always get what you want.
These people are idiots and cannot be trusted.
Oh my, oh yes. I’ve finally gotten past his defenses, and all it took was getting him to hold my exquisitely-manicured, frost-emitting hand.
Well, that and quitting his staff and trying to kill myself.
I know what you’re thinking – it sounds a little extreme, I know. I mean, who in their right mind attempts suicide just to get a man, even one as unbelievably hot as Nathan Petrelli? It’s even worse when you consider that, well, it’s me, and let’s face it, I’ve got a lot to live for. I’ve got the looks, the money, the power, the looks, even the amazing pearl necklace that I never ever take off because it accentuates my already-radiant beauty.
The trouble is, I also apparently have an insta-ice-sculpture-generator in my hands. And that pesky little thing that you peons would probably call a conscience.
Darnit.
I was devastated. So much so, in fact, that I accidentally froze the telephone receiver, which shattered like the hearts of all the men whom I have judged unworthy of my company. Then, to make matters worse, I had a sudden vision of the future, which looked something like this:
Yes, that’s me, as Future Empress Tracy Petrelli. This was not a surprise to me, as I knew that Nathan and I were destined to become rulers of the world sooner or later.
But look at me. What in God’s name am I wearing? Future Me looks like Nathan’s hundred-year-old mother! And she’s also apparently stolen Amelia Earhart’s flight goggles!
I look… imperfect!
*sniffle sniffle*
Sorry, it’s still quite hard to take. Anyway, I was so overwhelmed by this revelation that I became very depressed. If I was to become merely stunningly beautiful instead of the living Aphrodite that I am now, perhaps it was better to simply end it all now? Go out a goddess instead of a supermodel?
The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. So it was that I quit my job with Senator Petrelli and a few hours later found myself plummeting from a nearby bridge, wondering how many temples and altars would be erected at the site of my impending death.
And then I found myself un-plummeting from the bridge, nestled securely in the arms of Senator Petrelli, who can apparently fly. I was ecstatic – both because I was finally in Nathan’s arms, at long last, and because this meant we could save a fortune on special effects for his senatorial career.
Except for the bit where I was technically not part of his senatorial staff anymore. Which meant that any and all officeplace-relationship laws no longer applied. Which meant that now we were legally allowed to have the hots for each other.
So one thing led to another, I invited him back to my place, gave him a spiked drink or ten, and then…
Oh my, oh yes. 🙂
XOXO (and lots more where those came from, Senator),
Tracy
Don’t you know that my bio-dad is an alcoholic? Don’t give him stuff like that, it only my makes my life more freakish when I get those drink and dial calls all the time.
I’m happy for you two. But one thing: don’t you ever break my brother’s heart, or I’ll slap you into eternity.
Is it not the dream of every Ice Princess to one day meet and fall in love with Prince Charming? And yet what becomes of the cold heart that is melted by a man more politician than prince and more self-absorbed than charming? Can such a woman sustain, can her spirit press forth, when Prince Charming is revealed to be Senator Selfish in mere disguise, waiting like a Mexican recluse spider waits in its den of despair for an unsuspecting bug to waddle toward its end? And at this point in time, when our aformentioned Ice Princess is at her worst, having had the romantic rug ripped from right beneath her feet, is it not our destiny to give to her that ominous cliché of the wisest among us, “I told you so”?
Oh yeah…and the lord said, “It is soooooo good.”
fyi…if you start dressing like my mother, the lovin’ may have to stop…it takes a little bit of the wind out of my sails, If you know what I mean…
There’s nothing wrong with a strand of pearls, my dear Boy.
Your just like a modern day version of Jackie O.