ATTICUS JAEGER
Civilian  
TATTOO ARTIST
That day you see the stripper you slept with at the store and you both reach for the melons. Shit.
Posts: 60
MINI INFO - GENDER: Male
MINI INFO - D.O.B.: July 12, 1972
MINI INFO - OCCUPATION: Tattoo Parlor Owner/Artist
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Post by ATTICUS JAEGER on Sept 28, 2013 13:43:25 GMT -8
To say he was pissed was an understatement.
If Atticus had known the word ‘lunch break’ had actually meant ‘take the rest of the day off and of course show up late to work the next day’, he would been doing that shit himself every damn day of his life. He almost laughed—but it passed instead as a momentary smirk before he shook his head and tossed something into a nearby trash bin. He was debating going into the backroom and throwing some payroll information in the trash too. The only thing that stopped him was the assumption that there was an explanation.
Or there had better damn well be one. He wanted to give her that chance, but it was becoming increasingly hard to consider after the bullshit of Andrew and now, this.
The interns around the office ducked out of Atticus’ way when he skulked into the main parlor. A few of them retreated to the private rooms meant for clients, suddenly finding some piece of equipment that needed to be cleaned for the fifth or sixth time that morning. They figured it was better to stay busy than look him in the eye, which was probably a good thing. But their boss was restless, unable to sit still and so quiet about everything he did around the shop that they were unnerved and respectfully quiet themselves. Atticus was tense, and irritated. It was like watching a great lion stalk slowly back and forth over the same stretch of terrain; they suspected the threat of immediate danger was there, even if on the surface, that lion seemed quiet and calm. So they did their best to stay unnoticed. If that meant they had their noses buried in their sketchbooks or found a sudden problem with a piece of equipment, so be it.
Atticus had one of the interns working the front desk, organizing and handling everything that Eilia was meant to do, since, what the hell, she wasn’t here and a courtesy phone call had apparently been out of the damn question. It was early morning, the shop had barely been open an hour and they had a few customers scheduled later in the day. A man had come in earlier looking for a consult, and where Atticus would normally have accepted the job himself and counseled the client, one of his more experienced artists had to step up and take it, worried that the boss might scare the guy off or frankly, eat him.
All in all, it was not a comfortable feeling around the parlor.
Time Stamp: May 10th, morning
Notes: If I missed anything/need to change something, let me know. ^^
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Post by EILIA TIFIEL on Sept 28, 2013 14:32:12 GMT -8
tagged: name. time: date & time. notes: NOTES. She knew there was going to be trouble. There was really no question about that in her mind. There was going to be trouble. She was going to be at the center of it, and maybe, just maybe, she'd get out with her job intact. Somehow she doubted it. Atticus had taken a risk in employing her, and that risk had blown up in her face.
At the time, she hadn't been thinking about work. She supposed most people would have thought that was fairly understandable. By the time she'd got around to thinking about it, she'd had no options. Her phone was burnt into a mess of melted plastic, and she'd had no idea what the parlors number was.
Even the morning after she'd had things that took a higher priority then work. She'd needed her medication, and while she was only an hour late to when she needed to show up, she was already feeling the guilt. There was no way he was going to even listen to her. He wasn't going to sit down and wait for an explanation--he was going to fire her and kick her out faster then she could blink.
She slunk in at sixty one minutes after the shop opened, looking all too much like a kicked puppy. She wasn't sure why she was even showing up. What was the point? She knew the outcome, and she was dreading it. The moment she was inside, the intern at the desk vanished into the back room to summon up Atticus, leaving her standing there awkwardly in the lobby. |
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ATTICUS JAEGER
Civilian
TATTOO ARTIST
That day you see the stripper you slept with at the store and you both reach for the melons. Shit.
Posts: 60
MINI INFO - GENDER: Male
MINI INFO - D.O.B.: July 12, 1972
MINI INFO - OCCUPATION: Tattoo Parlor Owner/Artist
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Post by ATTICUS JAEGER on Sept 28, 2013 15:18:02 GMT -8
The last thing that intern wanted to do was talk to Atticus, but he knew that if he didn’t, things would only get worse. At the very least, he gave Eilia a look of apology—and maybe even pity—before he went back there and let his boss know that she had actually come in. Atticus was busy rearranging a few things in the back office, and he practically growled when the young man showed up to give him the news. He gave the go ahead to send her in, though by the time Atticus sat down in a chair behind his desk, the intern had already fled to fetch her. It was never a good thing, for Atticus to resume organizing the things in his desk drawers when he was supposed to be having a serious discussion with someone—especially when that someone had disappointed him. Even after Eilia had been told to come in the back and meet him there, his gaze snapped to her once, steely and just as cold, before moving somewhere else. As far as he was concerned, he was prepping himself for the ever familiar bullshit that Andrew had fed him. Excuses, excuses.
But there was still a part of him that wanted to give her a chance. It was difficult however, resisting the urge to rip into her for it. “If you want to sit, take a seat.” He motioned to the only other chair there. It wasn’t often people lingered in his office, but Atticus rose from his seat, walked to the front of the room and shut the door. He did not do so as gently as he should have either.
“I’m goin’ to be blunt, Eilia,” he started to say. The growl in his voice was hard to miss. “And fair. I am going to sit down, shut up, and listen to whatever it is you want to say. I’d hope it would be about what the hell happened, and if I were you, I’d take a good long moment to make sure that one, it’s the truth. And two, that you realize I’ve heard a lot of bullshit before. I will be able to tell.” He walked back around his desk and sat down, again piercing her with a stare, though there was slightly less ice in it this time. “Most people call in when they’re sick or something’s happened. You ditched after your lunch break.” He held up his hand and counted off on his fingers. “Literally ditched. You don’t even call.” Another finger went up. “Something had to have happened. Something had better have happened. But then you’re late to work today.” That was the third finger. “And still no phone call.” He lowered his hand.
Atticus sighed, but it was a frustrated sound, not one of relief or sympathy. If he were honest with himself, he’d admit she looked terrible, as if she knew she had done something wrong. But if she expected pity, she wasn’t going to get it. “And all of this between your first and second day of work,” he said. “So I’m going to shut up now, and that would be your cue to start talkin’.”
Notes: Poor Eilia. She's a kicked puppy that needs Nolan hugs.
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Post by EILIA TIFIEL on Sept 28, 2013 20:26:46 GMT -8
tagged: name. time: date & time. notes: NOTES. She didn't want to go back to any office. She wanted to run and hide. Even so, she knew it was the proper thing to do. Things like firings shouldn't have been done in public, the same way that therapy was generally not done in public. They were private things, and they had to be handled with as much tact and dignity as she could muster.
That didn't change the fact that she felt like she was marching off to her execution as she approached the little office, taking a seat when he motioned to do so. He looked angry. He sounded angry, and the way he shut the door confirmed it if there had ever been any doubt. The moment he started talking to her properly, she winced, seeming to shrink in her seat. If there was any possible way for her to make herself smaller, she was doing it. Shoulders forward and rounded, head down with her eyes only half up. She was well beyond nervous.
Her one consolation was that something had happened. A very big something. Something that he had, quite likely, seen in the news--because there was no way it hadn't been on the news, considering she was entirely sure a few people had died. She'd seen the reports from the night before when she'd been in the ER waiting room, and even then they'd been talking about casualties and missing people.
When he stopped she didn't begin to speak right away. Instead she took a deep breath, obviously trying to prepare herself before launching into the story. "I went out for lunch yesterday like I said. I wanted to treat myself because I was happy to have a job, so I went to a restaurant. Then... then the table caught on fire, and the curtains, and the whole place..." Her voice was rapidly speeding up as she spoke, and it obviously wasn't something she enjoyed recounting.
"The curtains dropped and blocked the door, but the waiter who was serving me grabbed me and dragged me out back into the kitchen. I got a little burn on my shoulder and some smoke inhalation, but we managed to get out. Not everyone did. It was on the news and they're still trying to search the ruins, but it burnt almost completely down. So I wasn't thinking of work right away because I was confused and then when I did think, my purse was back in the rubble with my phone. So I didn't have my phone or your number, and it was past midnight so I was pretty sure you wouldn't be open either." She finally paused to take a deep breath before she just carried right on.
"I wanted to be here on time to try and explain things, but I have medication that was in my purse and I couldn't get it last night, it had to be this morning, so I rushed through that to get it and then came straight here."
She finally, finally stopped. But at least it was all there--all out in the open. |
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ATTICUS JAEGER
Civilian
TATTOO ARTIST
That day you see the stripper you slept with at the store and you both reach for the melons. Shit.
Posts: 60
MINI INFO - GENDER: Male
MINI INFO - D.O.B.: July 12, 1972
MINI INFO - OCCUPATION: Tattoo Parlor Owner/Artist
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Post by ATTICUS JAEGER on Oct 1, 2013 21:48:47 GMT -8
The instant she started speaking, Atticus knew this wouldn’t work. He knew he had promised not to say anything until she was done, but quite frankly, he could not interpret what she was saying fast enough. Right off the bat, he opened his mouth to ask her, gently, to slow down, but the words hadn’t even managed to leave his mouth and she was already charging ahead. Eilia was so absorbed by her own story, by belting it out as fast as possible that he could barely get a word in edgewise. The desperation that propelled her explanation and how defeated and scared she was, reflected to him both in her body posture and the rising level of stress in her tone, instantly made him want to correct the situation, but dammit, it was difficult to do so. Atticus couldn’t tell if she was doin’ it on purpose or what, but he knew how to read someone well enough to see that they were beyond distressed.
Was there something about a fire in there? Burning? Ruins? Damn it all, the scraps that he seemed to catch here weren’t helping anything. It hit a note in his memory, but Atticus was more concerned with the employee right in front of him then what he remembered from yesterday or this morning.
“Eilia.” He must have said her name multiple times, each time tentatively, knowing he shouldn’t push so hard. She had taken a moment to breathe of course, and instead of taking advantage of it, Atticus had blinked in surprise, then cursed himself mentally when she started again. Slowly, with increasing frustration, he ran one hand through his hair and watched her, his brow falling. “Eilia. Eilia!” He shouted the last time, a growl evident in his tone, but a second later he dropped his head into his hand and dragged it down his face, sighing deeply. “Sorry,” he grunted. “Look. Kid. Didn’t mean to startle you. Just—okay. One thing at a time, and slowly, please.” He pulled his hand away from his face, searching her for a moment. “Did you say there was a fire?” His mouth turned in a slight frown. There had been something about medication in there too, hadn’t there? Ugh, his mind was all over the place, trying to decipher her speed-talk and failing. But at least he had absorbed the fire part, and then, at last, he remembered. A news report flashed through his mind, the very same one he had half listened to this morning before the word ‘burned down’ had hooked his attention and he turned to actually watch the television:…as of right now unknown, but will be under immediate investigation following the clean up. …an undisclosed number of casualties and possible bodies pulled from the debris, though we do have confirmation that some of those people have been immediately taken in for burn treatment…
Tension snapped through him. Atticus jerked his gaze back to Eilia. “Christ!” he hissed. “That fire? The restaurant?” And of course, his mind swung instantly around to what was more important—fuck the details. “Christ, next time tell me to shut the hell up. What are doing here? Damn it, did you even go to the hospital? Are you okay?”
Notes: Aaaaand that's what happens when you speak too fast. You miss all of it. xD At least...at least his mind is in the right place and now he's berating her for being at work instead of at the hospital. xDDDDD
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Post by EILIA TIFIEL on Oct 2, 2013 11:45:13 GMT -8
tagged: name. time: date & time. notes: NOTES. Eilia was afraid that if she stopped, she wouldn't be able to start again. If she stopped, her nerve would fail her. She'd end up retreating from the shop as fast as her legs would carry her, unable to stand up for herself. It was always awkward for her to explain things that were bad. She had always tried not to draw peoples pity, but at the same time there was a certain point where you had to admit that bad things had happened. There was no point in beating around the bush or trying to explain if you were going to ignore something as important and essential as 'the building I was eating lunch in burned down'.
She was vaguely aware that he was calling her name as she talked, but she didn't stop until he shouted--and by that point she was done anyway. She was only half aware of what he'd been doing before that--frustration, probably, because she was talking over him in her frantic attempt to get the whole story out before he started to pick things apart. That was what she expected--that if she started early, he'd go through bit by bit and tear it apart. He'd poke holes and find things out that she'd rather not have shared, and she didn't want that to happen. Ideally, he wouldn't ask anything else if she got the whole thing out--he'd simply accept the full thing.
One thing at a time meant it was going the worst possible way, and she nodded sullenly as he asked about the fire. There was a brief silence where it was obvious he was thinking about things (To Eilia's mind, it was obvious he was thinking about how much to yell at her), and then there was something she hadn't expected--horror. All of a sudden he was acting like he was the one who'd gotten burned, and her back straightened silently as he acted with sheer concern for her wellbeing. That hadn't been expected at all, and she hesitated, reaching up to rub at her shoulder.
"It's - I already went. I went last night. It was just a little burn and some smoke, the doctors didn't even have me there for an hour." She was fine. Other people might not have been, but she was fine at the least. Physically, anyway, although her mental state appeared to have rebounded. There'd been no signs of any talking dragonflies, and no indications that what had happened at the restaurant was anything more then a single psychotic episode.
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ATTICUS JAEGER
Civilian
TATTOO ARTIST
That day you see the stripper you slept with at the store and you both reach for the melons. Shit.
Posts: 60
MINI INFO - GENDER: Male
MINI INFO - D.O.B.: July 12, 1972
MINI INFO - OCCUPATION: Tattoo Parlor Owner/Artist
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Post by ATTICUS JAEGER on Oct 3, 2013 0:17:10 GMT -8
Atticus released a noise that was caught somewhere between a sigh and a groan; he closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat with some relief, but not much. Maybe it wasn’t quite as bad as the time he ran into that giant fucking centipede (a fact he kept to himself), but damn it, he wouldn’t have wished a building burn down on any of his current employees either. He doubted Eilia was really as okay about it as she let on. She’d spent at least some time in the hospital, apparently injured, and there were plenty of others who hadn’t made it out. It must have been terrifying, and the shell shock of the panicked aftermath, of coming so close to much worse than a burn? Atticus looked at her again, searching her carefully, weighing each word she said. It wouldn’t have been easy to cope with, no matter how okay with it she appeared to be; people had died, and that wasn’t something that was easily ignored. But at least Eilia had actually gone to the hospital. Admittedly, he relaxed a little after finally believing that one, uncertain at first, if she had been telling the truth. Atticus could tell she was still nervous—a little surprised now—but avoiding something.
“A little burn and some smoke,” he repeated flatly. Atticus had been looking right at her, but now his gaze shifted partially to the side. He could see her just fine, but a blank quality clouded his eyes. “You’re lucky to be alive, kid,” he said under his breath. “If I didn’t believe you, I’d have taken you to the hospital myself—‘little’ burn or not.” He shook his head, flicking his gaze back to her again, easing some of the brooding concerns from his mind. “Forget about this,” he growled, waving his hand to indicate the office. “We can deal with the absence later. But what you said—what the hell happened out there?” There was still a note of concern, but it was partially hidden behind his gruff manner of speaking. “I’m surprised. Didn’t anyone keep you to ask questions? The shit details they put on the news might as well have been nothing at all.” Finally, another pause. His shoulders fell a little. When he spoke next, he did so with little to no emotion in his voice.
“Eilia. Are you really okay?”
She would likely know what he was asking in that last question too. Never mind the burns. Forget the cops that might have looked into the situation and ignore the visit to the hospital. Sometimes incidents like that left more than physical wounds.
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Post by EILIA TIFIEL on Oct 3, 2013 13:06:55 GMT -8
tagged: name. time: date & time. notes: NOTES. Eilia had little problems with hospitals. When you practically lived in one (although not a hospital proper, the ward had been close enough), you got used to going for little things. What most people would pass over as a coincidence might very well be an important medication side effect, and everything had to be meticulously tracked. What worked for some might not work for others, and what began as something basic and simply might easily turn into something horrifying and life threatening.
"Just a little burn." She confirmed. "They checked and bandaged it." She patted her shoulder lightly, wincing as she did so. It was minor, and there was little to do with it but wait for it to heal itself. It didn't need stitches or any extra attention--just a change of bandages every so often to make sure there wasn't any infection.
The question about the police was an awkward one. Yes, she'd spoken to them--but they'd let her go easily while holding others because she'd explained her situation. They needed every bit of information they could get, but nothing they got from a medicated schizophrenic who'd just had an episode was going to help. A quick call to her doctor's office had confirmed that fact, and in the end she hadn't spent more than a half hour with the police before being told to go get what she'd need.
She nodded carefully. "They kept me for a bit. But the building was still on fire, and I didn't see anything, so there wasn't much of a point to keeping me. They took my info and let me go so I could go to the hospital." Her injuries weren't even bad enough to warrant an ambulance.
The last question caught her off guard, and she paused before finally nodding. Physically she was fine, and for the moment she was more distraught over her medication then the fact that she'd almost died. She was used to worrying over her medication, and while her near death experience hadn't quite hit her, the disappointment that she hadn't been better had hit her thirty seconds after she'd first heard a bug talk.
"I'm... I'm fine. I don't think I've really registered it yet. I'm thinking that tomorrow might be good to stay at home and just... sit." Sit and do nothing. "I wanted to come in because I hadn't been able to call you, but I need to get a new phone so I'll be able to." And a new ID, and insurance cards, and credit cards, and everything. It was going to be a lot of calls. |
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ATTICUS JAEGER
Civilian
TATTOO ARTIST
That day you see the stripper you slept with at the store and you both reach for the melons. Shit.
Posts: 60
MINI INFO - GENDER: Male
MINI INFO - D.O.B.: July 12, 1972
MINI INFO - OCCUPATION: Tattoo Parlor Owner/Artist
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Post by ATTICUS JAEGER on Oct 5, 2013 13:43:22 GMT -8
Didn’t see anything, huh. Atticus said nothing; he wasn’t even sure he knew what was an appropriate response. At least he didn’t have to go and hire a new receptionist after he’d just found one. Again. He’d have to give her a day or two to recover of course, but for the most part, he had little reason to be angry anymore. She acted as professional as possible about the incident, daring to come in today to tell him about it—it just seemed that events conspired to spiral out of her control. The suggestion that she needed some time alone didn’t surprise him in the least. He fell back against his chair, watching her thoughtfully.
What was he supposed to say? No? ‘Sorry kid, your job doesn’t wait for you, even if it’s interrupted by acts of god or whatever the hell you want to call it.’ He ran a hand over his face in the quiet that followed. Atticus wasn’t sure if he bought into the ‘I’m okay’ part, but he was convinced she was right on one thing—some of it hadn’t had the time to really sink in. Sometimes it took days. “We’ll work something out,” he finally said, sounding inexplicably tired. And maybe he was. “You had the decency to come in and talk about it with me anyway. I was expecting…” he trailed, his eyes flashed with agitation and then he sighed. He had been expecting a ridiculous excuse, something Andrew might have fed him once. “Ah, look.” He shifted forward in his seat again. “I’d say go home and get some rest tomorrow and instead of coming in—but I know some people need work to keep busy. I’m not sayin’ you should. Matter of fact, I think you’re right; you should stay home. I’ll have one of my interns or other artists cover for you, it won’t kill ‘em to do that for a day, maybe two. But if you need to come in and you need a distraction, or work, then it’ll be there.”
Frankly, he could only offer so much. He didn’t know her too well yet and she seemed uncomfortable just talking about this. “In exchange, just get that phone as soon as possible. You can’t stay out of work too long, but I can at least offer you a few days. Give you some to,” he paused, “deal with it. And sorry kid. I wouldn’t wish that kind of shit on any of my employees.” Well. Maybe Andrew. But that was before. "Anything else I need to know?"
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Post by EILIA TIFIEL on Oct 6, 2013 12:08:39 GMT -8
tagged: name. time: date & time. notes: NOTES. She couldn't begin to guess what he'd been expecting. Excuses, probably, but what kind was beyond her. She had no real experience with working for herself, and the people she'd dealt with on a daily basis had generally gone to college to get their jobs. College jobs tended to be a lot more serious (and important to keep) then a minimum wage receptionist job.
Eilia didn't feel the sort of distinct attachment to 'home' that most people did. Her concept of home was much, much different. Even now that she was out on her own, her apartment was still so new that it didn't feel like 'home' any more then a hotel would. There was no relief there. Really, the only concern she had was that she might freak out and disrupt the business, and as nice as Atticus was being, interrupting his business wasn't going to fly.
She paused, thinking hard on how to explain herself before simply trying the best she could manage. "I think just one day and I should... well, should know. I'm going to try and get a phone early tomorrow. So I'll give you a call sometime tomorrow to let you know if I'll be coming in the day after, but I think I should." Because at the very least she'd know how well she was doing by then, if nothing else.
The last question caught her off guard, and she hesitated, unsure. Should she tell him? Should she tell him what she'd seen, or that she was crazy? Eventually he'd find out. She knew that much for sure. She was simply hoping that he'd have gotten used to her before she was forced to say it, and after a moment she shook her head.
"I think that's it."
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ATTICUS JAEGER
Civilian
TATTOO ARTIST
That day you see the stripper you slept with at the store and you both reach for the melons. Shit.
Posts: 60
MINI INFO - GENDER: Male
MINI INFO - D.O.B.: July 12, 1972
MINI INFO - OCCUPATION: Tattoo Parlor Owner/Artist
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Post by ATTICUS JAEGER on Oct 13, 2013 21:46:37 GMT -8
That sounded fair. Atticus couldn’t ask for much else. “As soon as you’re able, then. I’d prefer a call tomorrow, but it’s not the end of the world if you can’t wrangle up a phone by then. Just check in somehow; I need to know whether or not to have someone else take over responsibilities for another day. Too many clients lately not to,” he growled, though in reality, he didn’t want to do it himself. Again, Atticus quieted and resisted the urge to say anything when she finally came around to informing him that there was nothing more that needed to be said. That was it; story-time was over. And yet for a fraction of a second he knew better—or thought he did. It seemed like a familiar lie, or something he would have said years ago to someone else. He said none of that to Eilia of course.
“Do me a favor. When you leave, tell the idiots listening in the hallway to mind their own damn business and get back to work before I fire them all,” he said, his voice rising into a deliberate yell as the sentence wore on, his gaze zeroing in on the office door. Sure enough, there was a thud outside—as if someone had quickly turned and knocked their knee or arm or something into a wall because they weren’t paying attention but had been startled into action anyway. Atticus sighed and rubbed his temple. “Idiots,” he muttered. Some of them were no better than children and just as predictable. They’d probably expected to hear a lot of yelling, not casual conversation, so they hadn’t heard much until he actually raised his voice, but they also should have known better. Atticus was no stranger to their crap though.
“Alright, Eilia. Be careful goin’ home, and get some rest. Sorry if I made you nervous, kid.” He rose up from his chair and opened the office door for her. “Just keep in touch.”
Notes: Yaay thread pretty much done. Not sure if you wanted to post again or not, but if not, I can submit it to Finished Threads tomorrow.
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REITGERTE
Staff Mod 
WANT TO MAKE A CONTRACT?
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Post by REITGERTE on Oct 17, 2013 9:39:55 GMT -8
| | | Finished Thread
You have been rewarded with ONE RESIDUE as this thread is now complete. It has been placed in the archives under the 'finished' sub-board. You are more than welcome to PM fate if this thread is not finished or if you are unhappy/unsatisfied with the amount of residue that has been rewarded. Keep up the great work and keep posting with other members.
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