It was a well-known fact across the town of Twin Bridges that Jackson Samuels was a clairvoyant worrier.
His talent for anxiety was unmatched by any in the tiny metropolis on either side of the river, and almost legendary in its predictive nature. Days before disaster struck, he would pace the floor, guts knotted and heart squeezed by the cold, invisible hand of dread, until the catastrophe finally came to pass. Very rarely was he wrong about these things, and his neighbors and employees had come to recognize this; if Samuels lost sleep over something, it was generally something worth losing sleep over.
So it was with good reason that, when his apprentice finally made her way into the office on the day of the incident, he was well into traipsing back and forth across the well-worn strip of carpet between the bookcase and window, lost in a whirling maelstrom of his own disquiet.
"Morning!"
Startled out of his trance by the young woman's cheerful greeting as she beamed at him through the half-open door, he blinked owlishly at her for a moment before gathering his wits.
"Ah, there you are. Good morning. You're late, I was starting to get worried."
Chuckling lightly, she set her burden down on the edge of the desk, plunging her hand into the bag and fumbling around inside.
"Aww, really? Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I stopped at Sheila's on the way in to get some breakfast. I figured you'd probably have forgotten, what with the excitement, and all."
Putting on a faint smile and pushing the cloud of doubt out of his mind for the moment, he sidled up to the desk, peering clumsily around her outstretched arm and into the depths of the paper sack.
"Ahhhh, thank you. You're the best. I'll excuse your tardiness if you surrender that cinnamon raisin bagel."
She drew out one of the wrapped confections, grinning and rustling the bag invitingly.
"All yours, boss-man. I'd rather have the lox, anyway."
Scooping up his cup of coffee as she plunked down on top of the desk and began tearing into her breakfast, he checked his watch briefly before taking a long drag from the Styrofoam container.
"Well, unfortunately, today's the big day. The inspectors should be coming up from the city at around noon, so we have a few hours before… before… what... are you wearing?"
He trailed off, studying her oil-stained khaki pants and the tiny holes speckling the bottom of her worn shirt before finally traveling up the length of her black silk necktie and meeting her gaze helplessly. She for her part stared back, raising an eyebrow as she gulped down a mouthful of bagel and answering cautiously.
"What you told me to."
For a moment or two, he struggled to find the right words.
"…What? That's not-"
Popping a stray bit of lox into her mouth and daintily licking her fingertips, she gave him an almost quizzical look.
"You said to do black tie today, didn't you?"
For a moment, he just stared, almost as if waiting for the punchline. When nothing happened, he groaned, covering his eyes with his free hand and shaking his head.
"Chell, you're hopeless."
She raised the other eyebrow, pausing in mid-chew to him a baffled look.
"Whaa? MmmIno' doinmit righ?"
Flipping the tip of the tie up and studying its length, she grimaced, choking down her mouthful of bagel and fingering a series of orange and blue splotches along its length.
"Oh… oh, no wait. It's because of the colors, isn't it? Because, I was painting again last night, and-"
The phone's shrill cry cut her off, and she lapsed into silence, tearing another massive bite out of the sandwich as he reached across the desk to pick it up.
"Repairs Bureau, this is Samuels speaking."
Trailing off, he listened, nodding and making small noises of agreement occasionally, before his face settled into a stony expression.
"Hmm. Well, all right. We'll get someone on that right away. Thanks."
Laying down the phone with a little sigh, he turned to his apprentice, rubbing the bridge of his nose wearily.
"Well, stroke of luck, actually. There's been a call out toward the fields for assistance with antlion attacks. You and your tie can handle that, right?"
Chell frowned, setting down the remains of her breakfast and rubbing thoughtfully at her chin.
"Antlions? But spawning season's been over for months. They shouldn't be that aggressive this far into the year…"
She pursed her lips, frowning at her knees in concentration.
"Something must have stirred up the swarm. Thunderstorm, maybe? It was threatening to let loose pretty hard as I was coming in, and they don't like water."
Closing his eyes, he sighed, waving a hand dismissively to cut her musings short, slipping into his chair and tapping his fingers lightly on the desk.
"We haven't got time, right now. Get the Vorts together, and go take care of 'em, and we'll sort it out later. Try to stay as dry as you can, if the clouds do burst on you."
Plucking up her own cup and popping the final bit of bagel into her mouth, she nodded, throwing him a mock salute as she passed through the doorframe.
"You go'it, bosh-mam."
Re-opening the file, he called out after her rapidly retreating back.
"And for god's sake, put on a nice dress, or a skirt and blouse before you come back. And some heels, if you've got them."
Turning around and continuing down the hall backwards, she shrugged.
"I've got none of those things. See you later!"
Chuckling and shaking his head as she vanished around the corner, he settled back in his chair, shuffling the papers into a neat stack and turning his attention to the first one. Apprehension gripped him again about halfway down the page, and with a little sigh, he squeezed his eyes shut, allowing the entire ream of sheets to droop in his hands.
"Please... be careful."