<hr/><hr/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">"Let's Get This Party Started "</span></strong></span> </div><hr/><hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://science-all.com/images/rachel-weisz/rachel-weisz-07.jpg)</div><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: andale mono;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 10pt;"><strong>NAME: </strong> Ciseleigh Capshaw<br/><strong>AGE:</strong> 32<br/><strong>LOCATION &amp; TIME:</strong> Gymnasium Building, Heading for the Office Of Dominic DeCosta | 9/2/16 2:13PM<br/><strong>TAGGING:</strong> Dominic DeCosta <em><strong>CLOSED</strong></em></span></span><br/><br/><hr/><hr/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: andale mono;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 10pt;">The door started to open and Leigh's muscles prepared themselves to move forward. Only to hang in a state of suspended animation. A face filled the small space between the frame and the heavy wooden door. Leigh flashed her patented "So Nice to Meet You!" smile upward. Way upward. The man was tall.  <br/><br/><em>'...I don't tolerate tardiness in my ranks, Miss...?'</em><br/><br/>And fairly rude.<br/><br/>Her smile tightened around the edges ever so slightly. He knew her name. She'd heard her assistant call and set up the appointment only that morning. A power play. Well. Two could play at that game.<br/><br/>"Oh you poor thing," she said, a look of sorrow pulling on her features as she reached out and ghosted the soft pads of her fingers along the edge of his jaw, down his neck to rest lightly on the crisp cotton of his shirt over the heart. Leigh leaned into to him ever so slightly.<br/><br/>"You played football right? Is this one of those side effects of repeated injury things? Like from the players who took to many hits? Will Smith is in that movie right? Poor Poor dear. Capshaw," she informed him of what he doubtlessly already knew. Then she repeated herself slowly and distinctly. "Ciseleigh Capshaw. My assistant spoke to you this morning to arrange our meeting?" The small lift at the end of her statement made it a question. As though she suspected he would not only not remember her, but likely was lucky he was able to dress himself in the morning when he got out of bed.<br/><br/>She flashed a blindingly bright and understanding smile upward at him as she shifted her body close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his. Even through the ridiculous crack he'd opened the door.<br/><br/>"To speak about increasing alumni donations for the athletic department?"</span></span><br/>