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| Job Interview; Repost | |
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| Topic Started: 4 Mar 2008, 04:19 AM (221 Views) | |
| Aztec Gold | 4 Mar 2008, 04:19 AM Post #1 |
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Originally posted by Welkin Thorne: For the past couple of days since his arrival in Port Royal, Welkin had been staying at a nice little inn in the middle of town. It wasn't poor, but wasn't posh, and was nice and inconspicuous. It had easy access to the brothels at the dock, and the proprietor was a middle-aged widow who took a maternal shine to him. He told her some sob story that wasn't far from the truth, how he was all alone in the world looking for a job, and she agreed to let him stay for free. She also baked him treats. However he knew from the cook, who was a man, that his days were limited. The man didn't like Welkin's presence or his mooching, so he would have to find a job and someplace more permanent before too long. The only skills he had were in his script. He was a fast writer with a legible hand and had taken several years to hone his diction ability. Aside from that he had nothing else to offer. Nothing of an advantage to the humans anyway. He'd have been more than welcome to take care of some of their female scum. Upon arriving he'd already been confronted with 27 women who would be better off dead. He restrained himself from killing anyone though. The last thing he needed was a murder spree popping up fresh on the heels of his arrival. Besides, none of the degenerate females had actually angered him at all. They just didn't deserve to live. But, then again, none of them did. There had been a small advertisement in the newspaper for a kind of secretary to a local man named Lord Chadwick. Welkin figured that was as good a chance as any and dressed up in his best ensemble before setting off for the man's house. He hoped the man wasn't married, and asked some people about him as he also asked for directions to the man's house. Apparently he was also a new arrival to Port Royal, but still not as new as Welkin. He wasn't married, which Welkin was immensely pleased to learn. He continued walking to the man's house with more confidence. Hopefully there weren't any other female presences there either, though it was easier to deal with maids than someone actually connected to whoever he was trying to impress. Mr. Darby had never been as fond of him as Mrs. Darby. Once Mrs. Darby was murdered, his agitation only mounted, and Welkin felt he was suspected. So he promptly skedaddled. Welkin found the house specified, walked up, and knocked on the door. |
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| Aztec Gold | 4 Mar 2008, 04:20 AM Post #2 |
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Originally posted by Lord Chadwick: Marcus Chadwick was in a relatively foul mood when he heard the knock on the door. It echoed throughout the rather depressing estate, which may or my not have been some sort of baracade in the past. In short, it wasn't exactly homey. Chadwick had a soft spot for stone, and his taste could easily be described as 'Spartan'. What some might find drab, cold and unpleasant, Chadwick easily called 'homey'. He had been in what would eventually be his office once his housekeeper found the time to do as she was told. His transcripts had been shoved into a box in a rather careless fashion, and he had been perusing them with an annoyed expression and a need to fire someone. When the noise came from the hall, he poked his head out, wondering who was disturbing him. He prayed it wasn't wellwishers. The housekeeper, Mrs. Fril, was a woman aged well beyond her years from the begetting of a swarm of children. Eleven daughters and sons had sucked all the life out of what could have very well been a good looking woman before a man had claimed her and ravaged her innards. Ah, romance. It was enough to turn the most beautiful into a pile of skin wrapped around greying bones. She may have been the face that launched a thousand ships, but by the time Helen was found, she looked more like Herbert. Such was Mrs. Fril. She hurried up to the door, knowing the master was already peeved at her, and if she wasn't swift on her heels, she'd be swift out the door. The door revealed to her a boy, perhaps not a boy but certainly not yet a man, standing on the front steps. Immediatly, she wasn't sure what to think of him. He looked completely normal and yet... there was something else she couldn't quite put her finger on. She both liked and disliked it at the same time. She realized quite suddenly she hadn't greeted the lad. "Good afternoon," she said in a perfect King's English accent, "You'll be here to answer Master Chadwick's advert, I suppose?" There had been a few lads come round in the past day or so, but none that Lord Chadwick wanted around. In a word, he said, they were all too 'eager'. "Come in, come in," Mrs. Fril continued, "Would you like some tea? Coffee?" Chadwick, who had relunctantly decided he'd have to interview another assistant if he was ever to get anything done, decided he might as well join the insipid housekeeper and his guest. "Good afternoon," he said, descending the stairs quickly. He was never one to dawdle. He was a man straight to the point, "Have you had any experience with textwork?" He shooed Fril away with his free hand. He had things to do today, and no time to tiptoe around anything. |
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| Aztec Gold | 4 Mar 2008, 04:20 AM Post #3 |
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Welkin: Welkin wasn't sure who he expected to answer the door. The estate he was looking at seemed large enough for a few servants, though the whole place was rather...drab. It was nothing like the warm room of the tavern he'd been staying in the past few days. He almost hoped he didn't get the job, because if he did, it meant living in that dreary mausoleum. However, he couldn't stay at the tavern for much longer. He was sure the cook was purposefully singeing his food in a less-than-subtle message to get out. He turned back to the door as he heard it open. The congenial smile on his face faltered slightly once he realized it was a woman on the other side of the entrance. She was old and positively ghastly. Time had not been a friend to this lady at all, and it took all of Welkin's willpower not to feign a gag in front of her. She was probably a little slow as well, for she stared at him for a moment or two in silence before speaking. "Good afternoon," she said. "You'll be here to answer Master Chadwick's advert, I suppose?" "Yes, ma'am," Welkin answered with a smile as he stepped inside. It was equally as forbidding inside than out, if not more so thanks to a significant lack of sunlight. He let out a small sigh of distress, but wiped it off his face as the woman spoke again. This one probably didn't deserve to live either. She was far too old and much too ugly. At least there was no threat of Welkin trying to charm her into his bed. He shuddered at the mere thought. "Would you like some tea? Coffee?" His interest piqued a little bit. The tea at the tavern was rather crude and cheap. Perhaps tea from a lord's house would be much more satisfying. "Actually, I think tea would be--" "Good afternoon." Welkin stiffened and turned around at the sound of a man's voice. Coming down the stairs was presumably Lord Chadwick, and Welkin found he fit in quite well with the manor's austere exterior. He was probably just as unwelcoming as the rest of the house. No sob story Welkin could come up with would work on him, that was for sure. "Have you had any experience with textwork?" The young man blinked, surprised at the sudden change of topic. Lord Chadwick waved away the maid, and Welkin figured he wasn't going to be getting any tea just then. He cleared his throat and nodded his head in answer to the man's question. "Yes, sir, I have. For the past few years I've been doing copying and secretarial jobs for denizens of St. George, Bermuda. All said jobs were done to their satisfaction in the quickest time possible." He left out the fact many of his clients were women and friends of women he had charmed. If he got this job with Lord Chadwick, it would be the first one he'd gotten completely on his own. This realization struck him in a curious way. It was funny. |
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| Aztec Gold | 4 Mar 2008, 04:20 AM Post #4 |
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Lord Chadwick: (((Dear God, this took forever! My sincere apologies!!)) Chadwick raised an eyebrow as he took in this young man's testimony. He wasn't necessarily questioning what the boy said, it was simply that the Lord didn't care. He couldn't care less. The fact was, any idiot could be a secretary. Chadwick knew he had no reason to have such high standards and yet he couldn't help himself- he had the best in every other aspect of his life, why should employees be any different? His housekeeper may have a penny for a brain, but he could see the ceiling in the floors and she always replaced the candles without his having to bump into her. "Captivating." he drawled, looking at his fingernails boredly. He felt like he had heard enough, but it was then that it occured to him perhaps a young boy was the right route. With older men, there was the inconvinient eventuallity of death. There was nothing Chadwick dissaproved of more than dying on the job. "Do you have any references to speak of?" At the end of the day, this position was possibly the second most important he had to fill in such a short period of time. He desperately needed someone to help him finish his book, lest he have to occupy himself via other means. His biggest need was to find a wife, the reason was unclear, but the need was there as it was. If he could beget some heir to inflict his beliefs upon and live through without the assistance of a woman, he would have preferred it eternally, but as it was, science had just recently stumbled upon soap. First thing was first, and hopefully this boy had what it took. |
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| Aztec Gold | 4 Mar 2008, 04:21 AM Post #5 |
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Welkin: "Captivating," he drawled. Welkin blinked, trying not to frown. It couldn't be more obvious what the man truly thought. He was inspecting his fingernails for crying out loud. He either thought Welkin was too young for the position or unqualified or too blonde or too warm to belong in the service of a man who lived in such a cold house. As he discreetly looked around, Welkin wondered if there were snakes or lizards living there. The house was certainly cave-like to warrant a few denizens of the dark. "Do you have any references to speak of?" Since Welkin had been expecting the man to just send him away, he figured this was a good sign. If he was asking for references then it meant he was probably interested. That was definitely good, and Welkin knew he needed the job, though he wasn't looking forward to living there in that house. Perhaps the other rooms were a little cozier. "Yes, but they're in Bermuda. My previous guardian Mr. Darby is still there in St. George. His wife recently passed away, but many of her friends gave me jobs to do as well. I think they would all say favorful things about me." He had no doubt that the women would say nice things, but he wasn't sure about Mr. Darby. He hoped Lord Chadwick wouldn't actually write to his previous guardian to ask questions about him, because that could be...tricky. |
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| Aztec Gold | 4 Mar 2008, 04:21 AM Post #6 |
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Lord Chadwick: "They're hardly of any use to me if they're in Bermuda, lad," he replied coldly, making it perfectly clear that he thought this young boy a complete dunderhead. But, as Lord Chadwick well knew, it didn't take a genius for dictation, and this position was more trouble than it was worth as it was. He siged boredly. There had to be more important things he could be doing right now. Staring at a wall appealed to him immensley. Or perhaps poking out his eyes with a hot poker. "I suppose a trial would relieve my doubts," he continued, his brain already in a completely different place, "Let's call it a week." He straightened his shirt cuffs ceremoniously, as if physically washing his hands of this lad until he needed him. "I expect you to be here tomorrow at six o'clock with your things... you will be staying in the guest quarters. I will need you at beck and call at all times of the day and night, is that understood? I don't tolerate complaining or obvious exhaustion. If you can't assist me properly, I'm sure there are many other men who could, do I make myself perfectly clear?" |
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| Aztec Gold | 4 Mar 2008, 04:21 AM Post #7 |
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Welkin: "They're hardly of any use to me if they're in Bermuda, lad," he replied coldly. Welkin pressed his lips together to prevent a dark frown. Well of course they weren't any use to him. But they were certainly useful to Welkin. The greater the distance the least likely it was that anybody here would talk to Mr. Darby. The boy still wasn't 100% completely certain, but he had a suspicion the man didn't like him or trust him, especially once his wife disappeared. Of course Welkin knew exactly what happened to Mrs. Darby. "I suppose a trial would relieve my doubts," he continued. "Let's call it a week." The transition was so sudden it made Welkin blink. He had thought the man was going to shove him out the door thanks to his lack of references, but now it sounded like he'd actually gotten the job. Or, a trial period at least. It was better than nothing, and would give him something to tell mean cook back at the tavern. Welkin supposed he was pretty lucky, but wondered if a trial was the same as a job. Would he still get paid? "I expect you to be here tomorrow at six o'clock with your things... you will be staying in the guest quarters. I will need you at beck and call at all times of the day and night, is that understood? I don't tolerate complaining or obvious exhaustion. If you can't assist me properly, I'm sure there are many other men who could, do I make myself perfectly clear?" Welkin was surprised once more. Apparently a trial really was a job. He was even going to live there. As much as he didn't really want to live there in the near identical representation of a mausoleum, he supposed he didn't have a choice. It was this, or dodge the mean cook's cleaver. He nodded slowly, bowing also from the waist. "Yes, sir." He looked up again, holding a finger to emphasize his question. "Uh...do you mean six o'clock in the morning?" |
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