Victoria was a no-nonsense editor for a high-powered editorial publication in New York. Ever since she was a little girl, she tried to see things in black and white. She would say it was easier to tell the good from the bad that way; to stave off pain. Teacher's often attributed this legalism to the loss of her mother at a young age, but Victoria knew that was just a red herring.
She was always arguing with her father about grey areas whenever she had a moment with him. Many a night she went to bed feeling as though she won when her dad (an attorney by trade) ceded his defeat in preference of a peaceful dinner.
By college she had altogether alienated herself from the opposite sex with her rigid didactic and endless pontification. Second dates were an unknown terrain for Victoria. And she was perrfectly fine with that.
Don't misunderstand: she was beautiful, to be sure. In fact, she was stunning. Many unwitting upper-classmen made that perfectly clear in their attempts to impress the dark haired freshman. Only to find out, in no uncertain terms, that they were certainly not good enough for Victoria Honeywell. As she developed this stigma of being out of league for every male within a four hundred foot radius of her, at any given moment, it seemed as if her stunning beauty slowly traded places with a 'cold' attractiveness. The kind of beauty that attentive men, if there are any left, would shake their heads in pity over. Stark and calculating. Harsh features softened only by what little power her stifled x-chromosome could exert.
On the other hand, unattentive males, as in the case of that puny fraction of a man who always called her 'Vickie', would not notice the lack of warmth when watching her. All her movements and mannerisms seemed pefectly femanine. And her body was very well proportioned, which Victoria made certain to keep so. She might have driven off men, but she knew very well what an atheletic body could do for her when dealing with them.
After college she moved to the big apple to take a lower level copy-writing job with a second rate magazine. When the internet craze kicked into high gear, Victoria took that as her cue to move up the ladder at her pace. She started a marginally successful e-zine and leveraged that piece of work to land her her first 'real' job. The job that she was currently running ten minutes late for. Thanks, in no small part, to her bathroom wall caving in and destroying her shower.
She was actually running late, as she was telling her earpiece, because washing her long brown hair in the kitchen sink of that tiny studio apartment was not particularly easy. Though, she managed the task, as she did with everything she put her mind to, flawlessly. As if she washed her hair over the previous night's dishes on a regular basis.
She left her bathroom for that puny man with the wife-beater and gland problem to deal with. "Reggie will sort it out. And, frankly, it's better that I am not there while he attempts it." Victoria was talking at her earpiece a little louder than usual as she darted across the street toward the subway entrance. "MmmHmm, that's the one. Yeah: sweats in the dead of winter. My downstairs neighbor would have conniptions if he ever had to be in the same room with him. What? No, Harry or something. Yeah, OCD. Bad. As in, never comes out. Oh, God, I hope nothing happened to his bathroom... for his sake... Ooops, think I'm losing you: Subway... OK, you too."
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