August 29th, 2012.
The Elevator.



Paije waited impatiently for the elevator to make its way to the third floor. She'd had to make an emergency stop on her way up the floors of Mungos to do a bit of nappy changing. A chore she hated with a passion, but one which Paije had resigned herself to. Especially if she wanted to leave the house with the baby, and without the nurse.

The baby, named Julien, was strapped to his mother's chest with one of those 'old-new' inventions. It was all the rage with new-age mothers. It was a sort of sling, or wrap, soft cloth wrapped around the baby and the mother, effectively tying (or strapping) the child to her body. He was nestle, quite comfortable, across her chest, his head pillowed on one breast. Of course, it meant there wasn't much of him to see, other than a cheek curve and a bit of down. Otherwise he was an argyle lump on Paije's chest.

Finally the doors whooshes open, and Paije slid inside, fussing over the matching diaper bag that was slung over one shoulder. She was attempting to stuff everything back into the main pocket so she could zip it closed (she found it very tacky to run about it open). However, Julien's diapers, blankets and change of clothes were being… difficult. She didn't realize who she'd climbed in with until the door swished closed - reminding her she had to press a button to get where she wanted.

Paije was going for that button when she damn near took Adrian Pucey out with the baby bag.

"Awfully sorry."

Paije said, her finger jamming down the button. She looked up at her victim as she apologized, almost appearing coy because her hair had fallen across her face and she had to look up at him through her bangs. Paije felt her jaw drop. Well, her mouth didn't exactly open, but there was a definite slacking of its usual pinched self. A low, unbelieving sound purred in the back of her throat.

It was him. Adrian Pucey. The man who'd fathered her child. The man who was supposed to be gone. Skipped town. Out in lala land Spain. Oh yes, Paije had found out where he'd disappeared to. And yes, she'd had some foreign friend to a bit of checking. Hell, she'd even had his address. But she'd never written. Oh no. Paije had tried twice to tell him, and failed miserably on both counts. Her courage had been badly mangled, and she'd never gotten up enough balls to try and contact him again.

But here he was. Adrian-Fucking-Pucey. And there it was. That quiver in her lower belly that had gotten her into this mess in the first place. Sonofawhore.

Paije puffed out a breath, and grimaced in an attempt to smile. She swiped impatiently at her hair.

"Long time no see, Mister Pucey."

Oh hell yes, you bet your ass she was still the same old Paije Godard. She might have a baby strapped to her like a suicide bomb, a few extra stretch marks, be a bit softer around the middle and a little more womanish with it, but she was still her. And not about to fall to weeping because her 'baby's daddy' was back in town.