I am in no way shape or form, under any circumstances for any reason, in love with Adela Rogers.

I just admire her work as a journalist, she definitely knows how to write a decent article, even if she does work for Hearst. What I wouldn't give to have someone like her working for the World.

If we were together-

In a strictly business relationship of course.

But if she came to work for the World then we could be the largest paper in the states.

I blush looking over at the Californian reporter, she scribbles on a notepad writing down what makes her stories so captivating. Like her-

A great writer is always captivating.

Rusty hops onto my own notes croaking, completely unaware that I'm gaping at some woman that I'm supposed to be rivals with. I'm supposed to be stealing the latest stories from her hands, her extremely elegant and nimble hands-

Not that I have any particular opinion on them.

She looks up to check the time on the clock, which just so happens to be hanging over my head.

"Malone?" she stands up coming over to Rusty and me with a look to kill, "This is pretty low even for you, following me here so you could steal the Russian ambassador story from me,"

"I wasn't-"

"Don't give me that. Your boss must be pretty desperate sending someone like you out to do his dirty work,"

"Now wait a minute!" I snap, "Can't someone sit down for a minute without being some sort of criminal?" Adela flushes clenching her jaw in an unbecoming way-

Not that I would care.

She hmphs and walks out leaving her notepad on the cafe table. I tell myself I won't pick it up, instead I try to focus on drinking my cup of coffee. Adela doesn't return for her notes, unlike me she still writes everything down it seems. She might even be a monkey luddite, not that it would matter to me-

Because America utilizes both fabrications and mechanics.

I look down at Rusty who sits contentedly on next to my notes. "I'll just pick them up in case she comes back," I tell him.

Half an hour passes and she doesn't show. I wait with Rusty drinking more cups of coffee until I'm a jittery bundle of nerves. I decide to take a peek at what's she's written, just a tiny look.

Her handwriting is so neat and elegant, the delicate crosses of her Ts. The way each L loops and the faint dots over each I. It's beautiful -

Any handwriting teacher would say that. It's exemplary penmanship.

Another forty minutes pass and it looks like she won't be coming back for her exquisitely written notes. I lift Rusty up and place him on my shoulder, "Looks like we're going to pay a visit to Adela- I mean Ms. Rodgers," I say scratching him under his chin. He gives me an answering croak as we walk out the door.

But then again, she might not take very kindly to her rival bringing it to her.

I'm just being polite I tell myself, anyone else would do it. My confidence rises and I set off for Hearst's offices.

No, I'm not in love at all.