Seto stopped beside Yugi's desk, holding a clipboard in one hand, tapping it with a pen in the other. He watched a few minutes while Yugi worked.
Yugi glanced up, gave a polite half-smile, and began feeding the leg of a pair of slacks through his machine. When he had sewn a full line, he glanced up at Seto again.
"May I help you, Sir?" he asked timidly.
"What time this morning did you begin this alteration?"
Yugi glanced at the clock. "Thirty minutes ago?"
Seto scribbled something down.
"Fine. I would like to see you out front." He let the clipboard fall at his side and walked out, hearing Yugi click his machine off and follow.
The front room was void of clients. Seto leaned against the counter, forcing Yugi to stand in the middle of the shop. With nothing to do with his hands, Yugi's sudden fidgeting became obvious.
"Did I do something wrong?" Yugi asked, a tremor in his voice.
"Did you?" Seto asked, his brows raised.
"Um… I—I don't think so. But if… maybe one of my orders wasn't right?"
"Someone would have brought it to your attention by now," he said.
Yugi's tense shoulders dropped a fraction, though Seto was amused to see him squirm.
"You're not in trouble. This is just an evaluation. You've been with Kaiba's Coats a full month now. Now that you seem to know what you're doing to some degree, I'll be keeping close tabs on your speed. For what it costs to run this place, I need all of my workers to keep to a certain time-output ratio to be worth what I pay. To be frank, if you can't match the minimum output requirement, you will be let go."
"O—okay. I'll try my best."
Seto almost felt pity for the man. If Noa were in the conversation, he might have told Yugi not to worry, that he had to say that to everybody. But Seto refused to be lenient. His tailors wouldn't learn to work well under stress by being coddled.
"I expect the best from you at all times, Yugi," he said instead.
Yugi nodded, staring mostly at the floor, but flickering occasional glances up to the middle of Seto's chest. He didn't seem to be able to reach Seto's face with his nervous glances.
"One more thing."
"Y-yes, Sir?"
"Did you do a lot of customer service at your grandfather's shop?"
"Actually, most of my help involved stocking and unpacking boxes."
"I see. I would eventually like to put you out front, to help with clients and fittings. Depending on your involvement with the clients, this may even involve higher compensation."
Yugi nodded his head, able now to meet Seto's eyes, but only for short bursts before he returned to peering around the room.
"But to do that, Yugi, you have to lose the stutter. My clients are high-class professional men and women, around whom I will not tolerate your nervous tics. If you aren't able, or at least willing to try, you will not be offered this opportunity again."
Yugi's eyes found Seto's face again. He swallowed and pursed his lips. He nodded, and Seto dismissed him without a word. But as Yugi passed him on his way to the workroom, Seto thought he caught a glimpse of something stoic in his eyes.
Seto repeated the process for Rebecca, having nothing spectacular to say to her. The girl progressed as he had hoped, but she still had a lot of learning to do.
But when he called Joseph out, Seto decided almost immediately that his unprofessional qualities and odious personal habits, far more prominent than Yugi's stutter, would keep him from offering the same opportunity he had to Yugi and Rebecca.
Seto once again made his employee stand awkwardly while he leaned against the counter, but the stance didn't seem to bother Joseph. He crossed his arms, legs spread solidly, and nodded to Seto.
"What's up, Boss-man?"
Seto narrowed his eyes.
"Do you believe that's acceptable speech to use toward the man who signs your paychecks?"
Joseph gave a shrug.
Two paychecks in and Seto hadn't seen any change in wardrobe like he'd hoped.
"I've given you a real chance to clean up your life, Wheeler. I hope you're taking it seriously."
"'Course I am."
"Where are the button-up shirts and pressed slacks I told you to wear? I should be requiring jackets as well, but I realize I can't ask for too much from you."
"What's that s'posed to mean?"
"Clearly you aren't accustomed to money, Mister Wheeler. Not that it's any of my business what you do with your paycheck, but I expected that by now you might have invested in a business wardrobe."
"I got some shirts."
"Where are they?"
"Haven't had the time to wash 'em yet. Is any of this really that impor—"
"KC's dress code was not a suggestion, Mister Wheeler. I expect you to show up tomorrow, dressed appropriately. If you can't do that, don't bother showing up. Even bag boys at the grocery store can manage to wear a clean white shirt and tie. I need no reassurance in knowing that I'm not asking too much."
"That all you wanted to say?"
"No. You really need to clean yourself up. That means not only your attire, but your scattered work station, your time efficiency, and your use of proper English."
Joseph was quiet a moment. Then he gave another nod.
"'Kay. What else."
"What else?" he asked, taken aback. "Are those matters so trivial to you that you feel you can just brush them off?"
"Nah, man. Boss. Sir. But I'd rather get smacked hard once than a hundred slaps on the wrist. I gotta know what else you want from me."
It was Seto's turn to remain silent.
"Lay on it me. I'm not a wimp. I can take it."
"No. I've addressed my concerns already. What you should be doing, instead of waiting for me to slap your wrist, is watching the other employees around you, especially the ones who've been here much longer than you. Do what they're doing. Avoid practices they avoid. Do this, and I won't have to drag you out here again. Your discipline shouldn't ever have to reach my level of authority."
"Got it, Sir. I'm your man."
Seto found himself irritated with his own surprise.
"Good to hear. Then get back to work."
Joseph grinned and spun around, pushing his way through the workroom door.
Seto knew his next move should be to bring out Atem, but he found himself feeling reluctant. He checked over the clipboard in his hands, trying to evaluate who was the biggest value, and who really needed speed improvement.
He finally steeled himself to take Atem out to the front with him, and when he poked his head inside the room, Joseph was leaning over Atem's desk.
Atem appeared to be walking Joseph through an alteration, or giving him some kind of tip. But all Seto could see was their bodies huddled over the desk together, faces only inches apart. Atem's slender fingers wielded a seam ripper he used as a pointer. Each time he used it, his crimson eyes chased up to Joseph's face.
Seto couldn't place the reason, but the scene made his blood boil.