I wasn't actually sure what I was expecting. The job I hadn't exactly anticipated, I had just quit my job as a columnist for an obscure journal when my sister had pitched the idea to me. She had seemed excited, said she had put in a good word for me. She was a lawyer though, so I wasn't exactly sure as to what sort of job she had signed me up for. The people around me were all successful, my dad was a doctor, my adoptive sister was a lawyer, and my best friend was a pilot flying around the world just as he had always wanted to. I, on the other hand, was a man with a mere high school diploma and little going for him. Mikasa, my sister, worked for a law firm in the wealthy Sina district while I had stayed behind in the Rose district to work around a few unpopular newspapers. Despite being a complete idiot with no degree, I got my work done and had several good notes on my résumé. The only downside to that was office fights with a few coworkers—things I didn't like to think about, moreover. It was usually what got me fired; those fights. That, or the people I worked with didn't have their morals straight. I believed in justice and reporting the truth, which was probably why I aspired to be a successful journalist and to work around the world. Then again, at the rate I was going I would make it nowhere. I always just managed to scrape by just barely on rent. My diet at this point was largely of some Chinese carry-out food from the place across the street. I didn't even taste it at this point because I was so used to it, I really only knew it as food. Mikasa always tried to support me, sending money. I never felt comfortable mooching off of her, especially since it was my fault for my current situation, but she helped anyways. Against my dad's arguments, actually.

I sigh and think about my current situation. My typing speed was sixty words per minute and I had a good vocabulary and learned quickly despite the fact I was a complete idiot, as I can recall many of my teachers saying in school. The job Mikasa had recommended wasn't exactly what I was used to. Yeah, I was working in a newspaper again, the difference this time being in the Sina district. If I got the job, it would pay well. But the job she had set me up for was irritating to say the least: personal assistant. I had never played Mr. Personal Assistant and I certainly didn't want to. Catering to people's needs wasn't my thing. But she had literally begged on the phone that I take the job—begged with a monotone voice, moreover, because that was just her style.

I had succumbed, as she knew I would and as I knew I would because I always had a hard time rejecting her proposals. I didn't know what it was about her, even if she seemed like a cold person; it was rather easy to agree to her demands. It was probably why she was such a respected lawyer. Either way, I was there in front of the building. It was cool; the chill of Fall was starting to roll in; the cold fingers from the rain last night also didn't help warm the temperature. I had always preferred the cold, anyways, the heat always made me feel uncomfortable. At least you could warm yourself up; it's harder to cool yourself down. But of course I needed to focus on my surroundings instead of my silly preferences. The surrounding buildings were tall, nothing unexpected of Sina; I'd say thirty stories but I wasn't exactly sure. They were rather flashy; the building I was supposed to enter for the appointment had a fountain in front of it adorned with beautifully carved angels. I refused to believe that this was a building just for a well-known journal, it seemed far more important than that. The people that walked in wore casual clothing, though, like that of a person who needed to be comfortable in checking things over. There would only be someone walking in with a suit on occasion. I suddenly felt like an idiot because I had wrestled with a tie this morning to make myself half-presentable. I figured I would probably be the only idiot wearing a suit. It was an interview, after all, so I could only hope my attire was proper. If it was up to me, I would have left and never looked back. But I was doing this for Mikasa, even if this was a stupid interview for being a personal assistant.

With a new found courage—or something like it—I entered and looked around in the sort of way you do when thrown with something new in front of you. It certainly didn't look like a simple, local headquarters of a popular journal. It looked like... I wasn't sure what it looked like. The building was far too flashy for something like a newspaper. Yes, you could see people rushing in and out of rooms holding papers and looking concerned, but it just seemed like so much more. I sighed and muttered something under my breath. Now I really wanted to leave. This wasn't like any of the papers I had worked for in Rose; it was obviously another league entirely—a league I didn't deserve to be in nor had worked my way towards. There were columns and a separate room that seemed to lead to elevators. I knew I needed to find the information desk, which was obviously in front of me. But I, being fascinated, walked tentatively around what seemed to be the main lounge. Soon realizing how foolish I was being, I hurriedly went to the main desk. I had stopped before a woman with black hair and two, low-lying pigtails. She certainly seemed the nicest out of the line-up, especially nicer looking than the hawk-eyed blonde beside her.

She smiles at me, she's cute, I realize as I look at her. Of course, I don't say anything because I'm not there to gawk at pretty women who work at informational desks. "What do you need help with?" she props her elbows up on the counter and looks at me expectantly with a bright smile. I read her name tag carefully: Mina Carolina.

The man I was supposed to be a personal assistant to was named Rivaille. There hadn't been a last name, to my curiosity and dismay. He was like one of those celebrities who only put their first name and not their last name. A rather odd practice, now that I thought about it. But that didn't exactly matter, like a lot of my thoughts today. It was weird, because I didn't even know what kind of guy I would be working for if I did get accepted. If I got accepted, moreover, because I was fairly sure there were more qualified people pining for the job. Mikasa's word could only go so far, she knew that and I knew that. Plus, I would be embarrassed if I got this job only because she had said a few things to a few people. It was fairly degrading to think she was providing for me again like she had always done, even when we were kids. "U-uh right," I stumbled over my words a bit, only to get a glare from the blonde beside Mina. "I'm looking for Rivaille's office. What floor would that be on?"

She looks slightly alarmed; someone with as sweet a face as hers looks alarmed so I can't help but be alarmed myself. She widens her dark eyes at me and looks genuinely confused, her brows knit together to only make the look more dramatic. "Are you applying for personal assistant?"

Mina was actually asking what my business was. The fact that it was my business and not hers stuck in my mind and I knew I didn't have to tell her squat because she had no right to know. But she looked genuinely concerned so I sigh and study her features carefully. "Mmm," I say. It wasn't really a word, just a small sound that only confirmed her question. I nod my head a little bit, just in case she didn't understand the meaning behind the sound.

Her features soon broke out into a polite smile, as if masking the fear for me she had held in her eyes. My own gaze narrows because I knew she was covering something up. I could tell a liar, it was my specialty, I had been told. "His office is on the thirty-fifth floor," she replies, as if ignoring my curious glare.

I nod in thanks before going to the room where I had seen all the elevators. I hit the key that indicates upwards. The elevator ride itself was strange for me. The music was annoying and the progress was slow, people were constantly getting on and off. It was when I started to scale the thirty-fifth floor that nobody came on; I was completely alone this time despite the fact that there had always been someone on with me on the floors below. Once the doors opened, I exited only to see a handful of cubicles and then two big office doors. The people working ignored me as if I were nothing of importance. Then again, their work was probably more important than some disheveled man who had a naturally angry face.

A breath was sucked in before I went towards the office door and knocked on it. I had the envelope with my résumé in hand though I was pretty sure Mikasa had faxed it over to him. She had always insisted on having a copy of my résumé. I think I waited a good five minutes before I was told I could come in. In fact, I planned on leaving when he had finally beckoned me in. He hadn't opened the door for me, I had to open it myself and enter. I had always assumed—or was used to—the person opening their office door for me. When I entered, I was struck by how simple the office was in comparison to the rest of the building. It had plush, red carpeting and an oak desk at the back of it. There were wall cabinets, all neatly ordered A-Z and rather low-lying. The height of it was a strange thing to notice but it seemed like something even a child would be able to reach. As I stand there looking, a throat is cleared and I direct my attention completely to the desk. 'Rivaille' is spelled neatly in gold lettering on the plate of his desk.

He then motions for me to sit rather impatiently. I do so, of course, but know that I don't like the air surrounding this guy. It was cold, strict, and something that reminded me of a hated teacher when I was younger. I had a feeling that if I was employed, I would most certainly be yelled at and scolded and I would feel like a kid again. Was it forward thinking on my part? I wasn't sure but I did feel awkward. He then rose to his feet and glared at me sternly. I swallow thickly because I can't even fathom as to what I did wrong in my first five minutes of entering his damn office. I then realize I have to shake his hand, so I stand up as well and extend my own. "Eren Jaeger," I say, studying him carefully. Rivaille was short; shorter than any man I had ever seen in my life. He had a rather annoyed face, the sort of face a man had whenever dealing with idiots. It almost felt like he thought of me as an idiot. He could have been, if he didn't have the expression he had now, handsome. His eyes were narrowed and his lashes dark, his hair was parted perfectly in the middle and shaved at the bottom. It was swept away from his eyes yet seemed to hang before it just so. He had a pale complexion, like a man who spent his entire day before a computer and inside; which was probably true considering his line of work. And he looked at me, with those gray and disdainful eyes.

Rivaille then gazed at my hand with the same look of disdain and reluctantly shakes it with his own, which was surprisingly cold and smooth. He then eyes my scuffed up shoes and my crooked tie as if I was a piece of work—not necessarily the good kind. I look at him as he glares at these things because I was in a rush and I couldn't help it. The trains for Sina were later than the interview and I had found myself waking up early just to catch one. I had skipped breakfast, which wasn't abnormal, and booked it here all for this stupid meeting. Even as I think these things and dare him to say something, he doesn't. Rivaille just purses his lips and sits down. I also take a seat. The office was ridiculously clean and even as he just wore a plain, gray sweater and some slacks, it still felt like he was dressed formally because of the air surrounding him.

"Résumé," he says simply in a gruff voice I hadn't expected of a man that short. I nod and slide it to him, deciding to be light on my feet to avoid any unnecessary fighting. I was sure he had seen it, because Mikasa had faxed it to him. I could only assume he needed a refresher because he had gotten so many applications for the job. I didn't want to be his personal assistant; I already saw the job being ridiculously tough and hard on my schedule. He hadn't made the best first impression on me and I figured that the same went for him. He continues to flip through it before eyeing me carefully and speaking again. "You only have a high school diploma," he pointed out.

I nod because I knew this would be the first and most obvious question. "Yes," I reply, keeping my answer curt.

"You have a lot of fight records. You in a gang?" he doesn't speak formally despite his position as one of the main editors to the paper. In fact, the way he speaks is loose and completely informal, I don't reply in such a way because I knew I needed to keep myself together and proper. However proper I could be, anyways.

"No, most are with co-workers..." I trail off because I don't know what to add to make myself look good. I did have fights in school, but I tried not to think about school so much.

Rivaille nods as if this makes sense. "Why's that?"

Mild shock courses through me as he asks. I didn't think he would care. Besides, the reasons were stupid. "I... well; I've been in a lot of fights so I can't remember all of the reasons."

It seemed like a good save.

"Name the reasons that are the most memorable then," he rests his cheek in his hand and watches me carefully. His eyes flicker as if he expects me to say something amusing; eyes ready to laugh.

I frown deeply. "One was flirting shamelessly with another co-worker, she was uncomfortable. I told him to stop, he didn't, and things got messy. Plus, in my other jobs, many didn't have their morals straight," my voice is tight and restrained. I really hate people. Really hate them.

He chuckles slightly, as if finding that the funniest thing in the world despite the vagueness of his laugh. "The world is full of corruption, Jaeger; you're really worried about upholding morals?"

I nod, averting my gaze from hot embarrassment. "Yeah, well, whatever."

"Jaeger, you are..." he trails off a bit as he pulls up my résumé again, reading my age."Twenty-five years old and you're still mumbling 'whatever' like a kid," he puts the paper down and eyes me in that way of his I'd come to hate in our short time together.

"I do," I reply firmly as I gaze into his eyes. I knew I was failing the interview but the truth was I couldn't stand Rivaille at all. His personality didn't appeal to me. Not only would this job involve working with him, it would involve working under him and catering to his needs. I would never want that to happen. My gaze shifts to the digital clock on his desk as I try and find the time. It was 10:43; the meeting had started at 10:00 sharp. I found it hard to believe this little conversation had taken forty-three minutes of my time. I really didn't want the job for obvious reasons.

Rivaille grunts in response and looks at the clock, also, no doubt he had other interviews. "You're free to go," he says calmly and I get up a little faster than I should of.

"Thank you for seeing me," I grab my résumé and leave before shaking his hand and looking at him properly. I really just wanted to leave. I took the stairs instead of the elevator in a quick flurry, almost tripping a few times. No way would I be working in Sina. It just wasn't happening. I knew I could never make the job and I was fairly sure Mikasa knew and was just trying to be nice to me. I sigh at the thought, I really was useless and had little going for me. I felt worse than I should have when I left his office and entered the bustling sidewalk outside of the building. I hadn't even bothered to check the name of the paper I was supposed to be working for, I realized. But I didn't exactly care because as I kept telling myself, there was no way in Hell I was going back to actually work there.

"You got the job!" Mikasa said excitedly as she had phoned me hours after I had gotten home. I hadn't expected the reply to be so quick, truthfully, and I found it ridiculously strange.

"You're fucking kidding me," I grumbled, reclining the phone in the crook of my neck and shoulder; pressing it against my ear. I refused to believe this, especially with my attitude and the way we had spent most of the time glaring at each other. He more than I, anyways.

Her voice is still monotone as I am used to it, but it conveyed hints of excitement; hope. I sigh a bit because I really didn't want the job and it was a damn shame I was accepted. "I'm not," she said with a smile, or at least, I tried to place her with one as she spoke. It didn't quite fit. "He called me today saying that you got the job and that you start tomorrow morning at five."

"In the morning?"

"What else?" she asks with annoyance.

My gaze flickers to the cracked wall clock that hangs in the living room with a dull clicking. I suddenly remember how the thing had always kept me awake when I first got it, but now it did not such thing for I had found it to be comforting in its own odd way. "Ah, alright..." I let out another sigh and nod slowly as if she could see it across the line. "I'll start tomorrow then. Bye, I love you."

"I love you," she says, her voice gradually warmer. It always warmed up whenever she told me she loved me. She was a very important person in my life; she was a trusted confidant and a beloved sister. Even if I tried to be more independent, I knew deep down that I really needed her by my side. The good news was that she knew it and that I didn't have to tell her it. I was the sort of person who never felt comfortable talking about their feelings. "Bye, Eren."

With that, the vague crackling of the line is cut and a dull ringing is soon heard in replacement. I drop my phone in disbelief. This was not happening.

A/N: I do plan on making more chapters of this. How many more chapters is planned on the reception to this story and my muse for it. I have a lot of ideas for it and actually look forward to writing it. This story is meant to be EreRi, yes, but the process is going to be a bit gradual because I do want things to ease in slowly when it comes to this relationship.