"Miss?" You look up, swiftly closing your phone and responding to the attendant. "We'll be seeing you now." Hastily throwing your phone into your bag and walking after the clicking heels of the woman ahead, you take a deep breath and exhale it slowly. It was this job or bust. You desperately need this internship, no one else in town was accepting. She leads you to a door at the end of the hall, motioning to it. Giving you a small smile she winks and mouths a short 'Good Luck'. Nodding in thanks, you watch her return to her station somewhere else in the building.
"Well, this is it I guess." You push the door open with a little trouble and step inside the room. Spacious, tidy, and crisp with a familiar smell of new paper, the room is surprisingly homely with an array of small plants on the windowsill. A man sits in the tall backed leather chair, or he was until he got up to his knees to look at you as it spun away.
"Ha! You caught me. Well sit down I guess." He kicks himself back around to face you and not quite as smoothly as one might like, he plops himself properly in the chair. You're confused, very confused. This is a government establishment, and this is the guy interviewing you? He throws you a childish smirk and kicks out the chair from under the desk, motioning to it. "Well? I don't have all day. Twenty more chair reps to do before the next interview."
"You're the interviewer?" Responding to your feeble question, he laughs and nods.
"Not The Interviwer, but I'm definitely an interviwer." Jerk. He's definitely the guy who deserves a smacking. You keep this to yourself and sit down across from him noticing with maroon eyes against his pale skin. Staring intently back at you, he seems to have trouble fighting back the smile that quickly once again consumes his features.
"What's so funny sir?"
"You checking me out or something? Funny thing you are." Heat instantly rises to your cheeks. As much as you hate to admit it, there is something oddly attractive about him. He tosses his white hair from his face and returns to a lounging position.
"No, of course not!" You immediately quiet yourself as you realize how loudly you had said it. He archs an eyebrow and writes something on a small pad of paper. Heat starts to build up in your chest as you notice the apparent dissatisfaction on his face. You've completely screwed this up, haven't you?
"Gah, hate these things. Pen's dead." He tosses carelessly off into the corner and tosses the notepad in another direction. "Whatever, not important anyway."
"What?" He pulls up and small que card and starts reading it like legislature.
"My brother threw me on this job because he said I sucked at monitoring stocks. It's not my fault Alfred didn't manage his outsourcing properly..." He mutters the last part, but every word reaches your ear. "Alrighty then. What are your... Just a sec... What the hell does this say? I told him not to let Roderich write this. Damn... Oh! What are your faults?"
"I guess I worry a little too much, and I tend to be a bit controlling. I'm working to fix them though."
"Okay. So? I don't even know why he'd put a question like this on here. Why do I care about what you can't do? Geez... Next!" He shouts the word and tosses the first card behind the chair with very uneccessary force, causing you to jump in your seat. "Do you have any previous exp- Of course you don't! This is an internship! Why would you want to be an intern forever? I wouldn't. When I was your age, we didn't even have actual jobs. Or money! Not even metal, it was just trees, everywhere. Just," He concentrates before casting a hand through the air."Everywhere. Seriously, it was annoying. I mean I had a pretty okay house, poor Artie. Francis found him in a tree."
"Wait, what?" He ignores your question and moves on, flinging another card behind him. This man was certainly odd.
"German, Canadian, American, or English craft beer?"
"Uh, German?" He narrows his eyes and nods seriously.
"Wise choice. On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate this desk? A one being I need a new one, and a ten being I need a new one." He picks at a small dent and pulls a small piece of stained would off.
"Ten?"
"Exactly! Tell ya what. I'll call West right now and you tell him to buy me a new one since I'm practically broke." He swiftly pulls his phone and taps in the number. "Even he can't deny the sound of a pretty girl!" Before he can press 'talk', the doors behind you swing open an out of breath voice reaching your ears.
"My apologies for being late, traffic was terrible getting to the airport. Again..." It pauses for a moment as your interviewer's face goes a little whiter than before, placing the phone in his pocket. "Out. Now." Giving you a wink, he stands and is rushed out of the room as a severe looking blonde taking his place. "Where did he leave off then?" He picks up one of the cards and sighs about the guy named Roderich.
"The condition of the desk, sir." He archs a catepillar- wait no. That's just an eyebrow.
"Honestly? Good heavens why?" He clears his throat and places the cards to the side, very seriously staring you dead in the eyes. "Now tell me. German, Canadian, American or English craft beer?"