Summary: Gabriella French finds something very odd in Mr. Gold's shop.
A sort of expansion on the snippet "Chipped", from my fanfic, Over the Hills and Far Away. Hope you all like it!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything!
Social Creatures
Mr. Gold kept watch over his new assistant as she dusted his shop, humming a song he didn't know under her breath. Not even twenty minutes ago, she'd arrived in a huff over something her brainless twit of a father had done, no doubt.
Now she was acting as if it'd never happened; dancing around, cleaning, humming—the very epitome of a Disney Princess. All she was missing was Bambi's incarnation to help her out.
They didn't speak—there was nothing to say, not really. So he went back to pouring over the ledger before him. Maybe this would work. Maybe she could just do her job, he could give her a paycheck at the end of each week, and it could work.
He knew it wouldn't be that easy though—after all, Gabriella French was a social creature, and he knew that spending seven hours a day with him in complete silence, for five days a week, would grate on her eventually. She'd talk to him eventually—Gold knew she would.
And he had to admit; he was dreading that day. It was one thing to tell her what to do, to give her a job; making idle chitchat with his spacey assistant was something else entirely.
Unlike Gabriella French, Mr. Gold was not a social creature.
He watched her, like a beast might watch an unsuspecting maiden, as she walked with all the grace of a dancer, twirling her duster around the porcelain tea-set he coveted. He'd procured it some time ago, the name of the person who'd sold it lost on him. She paused, and he kept watching her.
Gabbe picked up one of the teacups—a sad, chipped little thing that had his heart picking up in double-time. Why, he wasn't sure. He just knew that nobody but he was allowed to touch the porcelain imperfection. Only him. Not even the airy little girl he'd hired.
She turned to go, probably to the trash bin to throw it away, but he grabbed her wrist before she could. Their eyes locked, blue to brown, and instead of the disgust he was sure she was feeling at being touched by an old miser, he only saw confusion. Sweet, innocent confusion.
"It's chipped," she said. Her voice was soft, and still so confused.
He gently took the cup from her and set it back on the sterling silver tray. His heart rate slowly returned to normal. "Chipped, but not broken, my dear," he said, a small smile touching his features. "And the set's just not complete without it."
Gabbe eyed him for a moment, one eyebrow raised in confusion. Then she smiled, giggling in slight disbelief. "Alrighty then, bossy." She turned on her heel, going back to her humming and dancing around the shop.
And Mr. Gold knew, despite the fact that Gabriella French was a social creature and he was not, he wouldn't mind talking to her anymore.
Not really.