With his first week down at the paper company, he thinks he can handle it. Figuring out how to type with only one hands is still a challenge, but he's sure he'll eventually figure it out. The pain still bothered him, but with only missing it for four months, he should expect it. The prosthetic chafed against the irritated skin, but he wasn't going to come into the job without it. David had made a huge deal about it on his second day and he couldn't imagine the embarrassment if he came in without a hand.
He opened the fridge, searching for his sandwich, and noticed the familiar peach fruit cup with a past expiration date decorating the front. Being in the office only a week, he still wasn't familiar with his co-workers lunch choices and decided just to leave it, better to not rock the boat. As he's sitting down to eat his plain sandwich, Emma comes in and smiles at him. She retrieves the fruit cup from the fridge and heads back to her desk.
Torn between just letting it go and saving her from possible food poisoning, he decides to get up and follow her to her desk. She has the cup open and is about to stick a fork in.
He clears his throat and she looks up. "There's no way I should know this, but that fruit cup you're about to eat has expired."
She stares at him for a moment before checking to see if he's right, and then she starts laughing. "My knight in blue button-up shirt, you have saved my stomach. I owe you my life."
0
"Yeah, can I speak to Mr. Robert Gold? It's Killian Jones from Apple Tree Paper Company calling."
She's listening to him on the phone instead of filing. Not that she really has much to do anyways. Maybe a few calls will come in and she'll have to make a few copies, but most of the time she isn't that busy. The job was an entry level position that she started out in seven years prior in her early twenties. College wasn't really in the cards because of her lack of finances, barely able to even afford a small apartment in the small town of Storybrooke.
0
"Yeah, it's my one huge sale a year that makes up a quarter of my yearly salary. I make one call to Mr. Gold to renew his supplies. I even have a small bottle of rum stashed away in my desk to celebrate after I make the call."
0
She's made to look up from the computer at the sound of the monstrous paper shredder. It was the loudest thing in the office. Killian was glaring and pointing angrily at the phone to his ear. There was no way he could hear the client.
"I'm way overdue on my shredding anyways," David shrugged, completely nonplussed.
Killian reaches over and furiously pulls the plug on the shredder. "That's better, "Mr. Gold. About your-" He's cut off.
"Conference room. Now." Robin is out of his office and Killian groaned, his head dropping to the desk for a moment. Emma rolls her eyes and grabs her notepad to head into the meeting.
She hears him groan again from his desk before she's out of earshot. "Mr. Gold, I'm going to have to call you back."
0
"Sales are up, but I have a few prospective clients that I want to check out this week. I'm sending Killian and David out on sales calls after this meeting," Robin inclines his head toward the both of them. Emma sees Killian let out a deep breath and sit up straighter. She's sure this won't go well. "Also, please make sure to get your paperwork in on time this week. The quarter is ending soon and Regina will be in next week for review."
Another event Emma was far from excited for. Regina Mills was one of the heads in charge of the company and she was beyond frightening. She and Robin always had this unnerving amount of sexual intention that she would never understand, and having to take notes on their meetings was always...interesting.
No one seems interested enough to make any comments and Robin shrugs. "Alright. Dismissed. Killian and David head out."
She tries to make eye contact with him as they go, but he's in such a bad mood that he seems to not notice. Every time they go one sales calls together, someone always comes back either hurt or furious. Why Robin still sends them out together, she'll never understand.
0
It's five thirty, with only three other people in the office, when Killian comes storming in with David right behind him.
"We had that, Jones! You shouldn't talk so much." The man is fuming as he grabs his things violently. In the process, he knocks over a cup of pencils, swears, and storms from the desk.
Emma looks up from the end of her filing with a raised eyebrow. Killian's at his desk furiously grabbing his desk phone. She would hate to be the number keys he was pressing so harshly.
"Yeah, it's Killian Jones for Mr. Gold." He's silent for a moment, with only a lingering glare for David. She can tell the news from the line is not good and her suspicion is confirmed when he slams the receiver down to its holder.
"Company property!" David's halfway out the door, but still managing to annoy the hell out of everyone left.
Killian flops down in his desk chair, hands in his hair.
0
"Yeah, I lost my biggest client because of that prick. Guy couldn't shut up for one second so I could make the sale and we ended up lost in the middle of nowhere. Gold decided that three hang-ups was too much and decided to go with a bigger brand name."
"What happened out there? Leroy decided to focus on bashing the competition instead of promoting our products. He told me to shut up three times during the sale. The manager was not impressed."
0
"Jones?" He can hear her tentative voice. Her desk chair squeaks and she's moving toward his desk. She leans against it and taps him on the shoulder; his face is still flopped over in his hands. It's already been a long day and he's not entirely sure that he can handle keeping up his façade around her. Holding himself back from admitting his feeling is draining.
Reluctantly, he picks himself up and plasters on an extremely fake smile. It's all he can do to shrug and pretend it's all fine even though he's losing a big chunk of his salary. "Swan."
She pats his prosthetic hand, the one he lost only a few months before moving to America, and opens his desk drawer without a word. Looking around, she finally finds his mini bottle of his favorite Irish whiskey and places it on the desk in front of him. "I think this is well deserved anyways." From the bottom drawer she pulls out his tumbler to set on the desk.
Robin is already gone and it's past five, so she really doesn't care about the consequences.
He raises and eyebrow and leans down to the bottom drawer, pulling out a second tumbler and hands them both to her, taking the whiskey for himself. "Break room?"
She shrugs and leads the way to the small back room where they can at least drink without prying eyes. The year before she had taken a drink of his whiskey, but otherwise left him alone to celebrate. This year there wasn't much to celebrate.
0
"No? Why would his prosthetic bother me?"
"Also no. I have not seen his actual arm without the hand. He doesn't talk about it.
0
He's pouring them each a glass as they lean in the hard plastic chairs.
"Bad day?" Her eyebrow is raised and it's not like he can lie to the human equivalent of a polygraph.
Taking a swig and relishing in the burn, he shrugs. "Lost the Gold account."
She cringes, knowing how big it is, "Damn, I'm sorry." He nods.
Instead of anything else that she knows won't help, she scoots over her chair and leans her head on his shoulder.
0
"Not a bad day, I guess."