Discord
"Emergency situations..."
You scratch your face, combing your memories.
"Uh... yes-Yeah." One hits you.
"Definitely."
You clear your throat, ready to tell your tale.
You've got this now.
Hook, line, and sinker.
"So, there I was. Back in my hometown.
I'd been staying with a friend and was heading back home.
I smell smoke, look up the road, and-" You raise your hands up beside you, open them, and move them away from each other; mimicking flames rising.
"Boom. The church is on fire.
But!
But..." You point at Ghost. "I'd already been practicing with smoke scraps, right?
So I knew I had it.
I pull into the parking lot, jump off my bike, and I RUSH in to help."
Ghost leans in an inch.
You shake your head, exhaling.
"It was awful. Whole place was in flames already.
Falling apart and everything.
Flaming boards - falling from the ceiling, having to dodge around 'em."
You raise and lower your arms to pantomime.
"But me? I knew I had it."
"I start pulling the smoke away from me, funneling it out... out windows and the doors and-"
You gesture wildly.
"Just, everywhere. Doing everything I can while the whole place... burns down around me.
Trying to make sure everybody got out."
You pause, and the gesabott politely nods for you to continue.
You lean back in your chair, putting your arms behind your head.
"...Building turned out to be empty.
But y'know.
Thought that counts, n' all that."
"Made me realize what I could do."
You conveniently leave out the part about passing out from smoke inhalation, as well as your subsequent rescue and hospital stay.
Better they don't know.
This is a job interview, after all.
Good thing the story makes you look good.
You think so, anyway.
...Or maybe you don't.
Maybe it sounded better in your head.
Maybe the story was good, and you messed it up because of the caffeine.
Maybe you need--
what I NEED to do is STOP Thinking so much
get it Together already, herrera
just... Say some more stuff
they aren't talking yet so I need to
You pipe up just as Ghost opens their mouth.
"And uh... Combat?
Let's just say I make a mean smoke bomb.
Sorta.
...I mean it's not an actual Smoke Bomb.
But since I use smoke-
Right?
You know." You wave your hand. "You get it."
on second thought Shut Up
The construct characteristically waits far too long to respond, worsening your worries.
Once they seem absolutely sure you have nothing further to blurt out, they continue.
"Well, that would certainly be a harrowing experience for anyone, I'm sure.
Very brave, even if it didn't end up being someone's rescue."
Except your own, of course.
"And I'm sure any sort of smokescreen could be very useful in combat.
Even better for avoiding combat, which I'd argue is even more important."
"Well, it's good you've had some experience with things of that nature.
There may be a lot more of that in this job.
Make sure you're ready."
The gesabott looks you in the eye again.
"I have one last question."
ALRIGHT YES almost done
but how about you Don't look at me like that
why?
what do you know?
there's no way you Know I was leaving things out
No Way In Hell
and what's this last question, huh?
I'll ace it, too
throw it at me
I'm not ner-- You are exceptionally nervous.
You worry you might be visibly shaking, in fact.
Though, you're much too nervous to tell anymore.
Ghost speaks.
"Skateboard, rollerblades, or ice skating?"
"...huh?"
"You mentioned skating, I'm curious."
"...Uh."
"Rollerblades."
"Hm. I can see that being difficult, given your physiology."
You look simply confused.
"I can't imagine small feet being good for balance."
"...Nah, I... it's... not a problem, actually.
They make some that work for like... legs like this... mine."
"Oh, that makes sense. I haven't seen those before.
You'll have to show me sometime.
Very interesting."
when
would
y-
I,
Ghost stands up, taking their mug and your filled form with them.
They open the door to leave, only to look back at you.
"Oh, you're hired.
Tomorrow's your first day.
10AM. I'll see you when you get here."
"Thanks for your time, Herrera."
You're too flabbergasted to respond.
Or do much of anything, for that matter, except remain in your chair as you try to process what had just transpired.
The neuroth from before walks in on you after some time, doing a double-take as he realizes you're still in the room.
"Oh, Herrera?
Did Ghost not--?
I'm sorry- Here, I'll take that." He points at the mug in front of you.
"...Unless, you wanted to finish it in the lobby.
I don't mind if you'd like to."
"Nope. Nah. I'm good." You respond instantly, ridding yourself of the poison you engineered.
"Okay, no problem." Bobby carefully holds the mug with both hands as you stand up.
"Well, if you'll-" The neuroth catches and swings the quickly-closing door back open with his foot.
"If you'll follow me, I've got some paperwork for you before you leave."
"...Congratulations on the job, by the way!"
The caffeine crash hits you long before you walk through the entrance of your studio apartment.
You step inside, dropping your keys atop a bright purple shelf by your door.
You take off your jacket and toss it over the loveseat before collapsing onto it yourself, taking care not to crush your old laptop; currently half-buried in blankets.
You rub your face, dealing with your exhaustion as you soak in the 'atmosphere' of your place.
This is your living room... and bedroom, technically.
Your studio's so tiny it doubles as both, which makes the pullout-loveseat especially useful.
It's not all that comfortable, pretty beat-up, and it's kind of an ugly dark green color, but you got it for free, so you can't complain much.
There's also your kitchen(ette), which only really consists of a mini-fridge, sink, microwave, and a single electric burner.
You keep intending to get more for it - toaster oven, crock pot, panini press; the works - but you haven't gotten around to it yet.
Plus, there's the money issue.
But you're remedying that.
You've tried to spice up the plain beige walls a little with some posters - music and movies you like, or just random ones you found in thrift shops that looked cool.
But, it probably just makes it look like some 19-year-old college freshman's dorm room.
You should probably just throw up some paint sometime instead. At least you're allowed to do that.
...Lot of work, though.
You wish your place was bigger, or that you had a nice TV at least.
Then you could invite people over.
You doubt your old CRT is much for watching movies on.
Not that you really know anyone around here.
Everyone at your last job was a jackass. Or just never spoke to you.
And you haven't really gone out of your way to make friends. You've been too busy looking for a job.
There's Maria, your neighbor.
She's nice enough, but also in her seventies.
Thinking about your neighbor, you look out the window at what you can see of her rooftop garden, her bleeding-hearts and wisteria vines creeping onto your balcony.
Not that it matters, since you never use it.
And it makes for a nice view past your blue-and-brown mismatched curtains.
You're still kicking yourself for not landing the unit that included the lower roof access, but you doubt you'd have the patience for a huge garden like that anyways.
No way you would've been able to afford that unit with your old job, anyways.
Whatever.
This apartment isn't much, but it's what you've got.
Enough of that, though.
You want to celebrate, but you aren't sure what to do.
Maybe you'll order some delivery.
You think you can afford that. ...You'll have to check later to make sure.
You can make it work until your first paycheck, bare minimum. You're sure of that.
For now, you need to do something to shake off this fatigue.
Or at least distract yourself until it goes away.
A nice hot shower could do the trick.
Might help you settle your nerves, and wake up at the same time.
Something like that.
There's the garden, too.
Maria's said you can use it when you like, as long as you're careful.
Could be perfect to relax, and focus.
Though, perhaps succumbing to your tiredness and passing out right here would be best.
Something to recharge before you kick things into gear.
You have some work to do tonight, after all.
You're struck with brief indecision until the choice comes to you.
You scratch your face, combing your memories.
"Uh... yes-Yeah." One hits you.
"Definitely."
You clear your throat, ready to tell your tale.
You've got this now.
Hook, line, and sinker.
"So, there I was. Back in my hometown.
I'd been staying with a friend and was heading back home.
I smell smoke, look up the road, and-" You raise your hands up beside you, open them, and move them away from each other; mimicking flames rising.
"Boom. The church is on fire.
But!
But..." You point at Ghost. "I'd already been practicing with smoke scraps, right?
So I knew I had it.
I pull into the parking lot, jump off my bike, and I RUSH in to help."
Ghost leans in an inch.
You shake your head, exhaling.
"It was awful. Whole place was in flames already.
Falling apart and everything.
Flaming boards - falling from the ceiling, having to dodge around 'em."
You raise and lower your arms to pantomime.
"But me? I knew I had it."
"I start pulling the smoke away from me, funneling it out... out windows and the doors and-"
You gesture wildly.
"Just, everywhere. Doing everything I can while the whole place... burns down around me.
Trying to make sure everybody got out."
You pause, and the gesabott politely nods for you to continue.
You lean back in your chair, putting your arms behind your head.
"...Building turned out to be empty.
But y'know.
Thought that counts, n' all that."
"Made me realize what I could do."
You conveniently leave out the part about passing out from smoke inhalation, as well as your subsequent rescue and hospital stay.
Better they don't know.
This is a job interview, after all.
Good thing the story makes you look good.
You think so, anyway.
...Or maybe you don't.
Maybe it sounded better in your head.
Maybe the story was good, and you messed it up because of the caffeine.
Maybe you need--
what I NEED to do is STOP Thinking so much
get it Together already, herrera
just... Say some more stuff
they aren't talking yet so I need to
You pipe up just as Ghost opens their mouth.
"And uh... Combat?
Let's just say I make a mean smoke bomb.
Sorta.
...I mean it's not an actual Smoke Bomb.
But since I use smoke-
Right?
You know." You wave your hand. "You get it."
on second thought Shut Up
The construct characteristically waits far too long to respond, worsening your worries.
Once they seem absolutely sure you have nothing further to blurt out, they continue.
"Well, that would certainly be a harrowing experience for anyone, I'm sure.
Very brave, even if it didn't end up being someone's rescue."
Except your own, of course.
"And I'm sure any sort of smokescreen could be very useful in combat.
Even better for avoiding combat, which I'd argue is even more important."
"Well, it's good you've had some experience with things of that nature.
There may be a lot more of that in this job.
Make sure you're ready."
The gesabott looks you in the eye again.
"I have one last question."
ALRIGHT YES almost done
but how about you Don't look at me like that
why?
what do you know?
there's no way you Know I was leaving things out
No Way In Hell
and what's this last question, huh?
I'll ace it, too
throw it at me
I'm not ner-- You are exceptionally nervous.
You worry you might be visibly shaking, in fact.
Though, you're much too nervous to tell anymore.
Ghost speaks.
"Skateboard, rollerblades, or ice skating?"
"...huh?"
"You mentioned skating, I'm curious."
"...Uh."
"Rollerblades."
"Hm. I can see that being difficult, given your physiology."
You look simply confused.
"I can't imagine small feet being good for balance."
"...Nah, I... it's... not a problem, actually.
They make some that work for like... legs like this... mine."
"Oh, that makes sense. I haven't seen those before.
You'll have to show me sometime.
Very interesting."
when
would
y-
I,
Ghost stands up, taking their mug and your filled form with them.
They open the door to leave, only to look back at you.
"Oh, you're hired.
Tomorrow's your first day.
10AM. I'll see you when you get here."
"Thanks for your time, Herrera."
You're too flabbergasted to respond.
Or do much of anything, for that matter, except remain in your chair as you try to process what had just transpired.
The neuroth from before walks in on you after some time, doing a double-take as he realizes you're still in the room.
"Oh, Herrera?
Did Ghost not--?
I'm sorry- Here, I'll take that." He points at the mug in front of you.
"...Unless, you wanted to finish it in the lobby.
I don't mind if you'd like to."
"Nope. Nah. I'm good." You respond instantly, ridding yourself of the poison you engineered.
"Okay, no problem." Bobby carefully holds the mug with both hands as you stand up.
"Well, if you'll-" The neuroth catches and swings the quickly-closing door back open with his foot.
"If you'll follow me, I've got some paperwork for you before you leave."
"...Congratulations on the job, by the way!"
The caffeine crash hits you long before you walk through the entrance of your studio apartment.
You step inside, dropping your keys atop a bright purple shelf by your door.
You take off your jacket and toss it over the loveseat before collapsing onto it yourself, taking care not to crush your old laptop; currently half-buried in blankets.
You rub your face, dealing with your exhaustion as you soak in the 'atmosphere' of your place.
This is your living room... and bedroom, technically.
Your studio's so tiny it doubles as both, which makes the pullout-loveseat especially useful.
It's not all that comfortable, pretty beat-up, and it's kind of an ugly dark green color, but you got it for free, so you can't complain much.
There's also your kitchen(ette), which only really consists of a mini-fridge, sink, microwave, and a single electric burner.
You keep intending to get more for it - toaster oven, crock pot, panini press; the works - but you haven't gotten around to it yet.
Plus, there's the money issue.
But you're remedying that.
You've tried to spice up the plain beige walls a little with some posters - music and movies you like, or just random ones you found in thrift shops that looked cool.
But, it probably just makes it look like some 19-year-old college freshman's dorm room.
You should probably just throw up some paint sometime instead. At least you're allowed to do that.
...Lot of work, though.
You wish your place was bigger, or that you had a nice TV at least.
Then you could invite people over.
You doubt your old CRT is much for watching movies on.
Not that you really know anyone around here.
Everyone at your last job was a jackass. Or just never spoke to you.
And you haven't really gone out of your way to make friends. You've been too busy looking for a job.
There's Maria, your neighbor.
She's nice enough, but also in her seventies.
Thinking about your neighbor, you look out the window at what you can see of her rooftop garden, her bleeding-hearts and wisteria vines creeping onto your balcony.
Not that it matters, since you never use it.
And it makes for a nice view past your blue-and-brown mismatched curtains.
You're still kicking yourself for not landing the unit that included the lower roof access, but you doubt you'd have the patience for a huge garden like that anyways.
No way you would've been able to afford that unit with your old job, anyways.
Whatever.
This apartment isn't much, but it's what you've got.
Enough of that, though.
You want to celebrate, but you aren't sure what to do.
Maybe you'll order some delivery.
You think you can afford that. ...You'll have to check later to make sure.
You can make it work until your first paycheck, bare minimum. You're sure of that.
For now, you need to do something to shake off this fatigue.
Or at least distract yourself until it goes away.
A nice hot shower could do the trick.
Might help you settle your nerves, and wake up at the same time.
Something like that.
There's the garden, too.
Maria's said you can use it when you like, as long as you're careful.
Could be perfect to relax, and focus.
Though, perhaps succumbing to your tiredness and passing out right here would be best.
Something to recharge before you kick things into gear.
You have some work to do tonight, after all.
You're struck with brief indecision until the choice comes to you.
