Against her better judgement, Laura had taken a sip from the violaceous drink set before her, which she immediately felt better her mood. After a few more sips, she was visibly more relaxed - she even slouched slightly into the couch's overstuffed cushions, taking off her shoes before curling her feet up beside her. She had never been partial to alcohol or narcotics at any point in her life, for she knew their dangers very well, and only enjoyed the occasional drink at office functions or family celebrations - because of this, the sensation provided by the fizzing, purple drink was entirely alien to her. She admittedly enjoyed the sensation, for it felt as if her perception of the room and the man before her was enhanced somehow; the way her vision moved around the room seemed much more rapid, as if it jumped from object to object, and the yellow and gray striped wallpaper seemed to swim around her mirthfully. Laura ran her hand over the couch's cushion, entranced by the tingling feeling that the action provided her fingertips. Despite her disoriented state, Laura didn't feel happy, per say - she felt as if she was not in control of her body or mind, and while it was not an entirely unwelcome feeling, she was not partial to its uninhibited nature. It was this unfettered state that caused Laura to converse freely.
"Tell me, Mr. Wonka, why did you hold such a peculiar promotion in the first place? What were you hoping to gain from letting five children tour your factory?"
Willy, noting the change in Laura's demeanor in latent contentment, twirled his hat between his hands before answering. "I wanted to find an heir for my factory, you see."
"I see." She considered this for a moment, resting her chin on the heel of her hand. "A child, then? Why a child?"
"Because if I had found a stubborn, old adult they would have torn down everything I worked so hard for," he replied with animosity, gesturing wildly with his hands. "They would have started anew - doing everything their way instead of mine. If I could find a child to run the factory when I retire, I would be able to teach them how to run the factory my way!" Willy's eyes glimmered as he said this, gauging Laura's reaction to what he had long considered his most brilliant idea yet. Her face did not shine with admiration, to his dismay - instead, it displayed a definite shade of irritation.
"You're essentially employing a brainwashing tactic, Mr. Wonka!" she huffed. "Are you truly unable to bear the thought of a successor who wishes to run the factory in a way of their own? That's… that's glaringly egocentric, Mr. Wonka!"
Willy was shocked at the accusation. Even Laura didn't know from where her outburst came, but she was feeling disoriented to a point where she felt no reason to question it, and especially none to double back on it.
Wonka himself was even most unsettled by the fact that she had introduced a thought he had not before meditated: was he right do such a thing?
He quickly shoved the thought away, as one does when faced with an unsavory yet familiar accusation. His countenance had darkened then, though, which Laura noticed immediately, causing her to shift further into her seat (though she maintained her confident posture, learned through much rehearsal).
May it be noted that Wonka had been all but isolated for many years, with the exceptions of only a few close acquaintances, necessary visitors (such as inspectors and repairmen to take care of the problems that neither he nor his workers could address), and the oompa loompas. Thus, he was not often subject to criticism, and even less often subject to criticism of ideas so dear to his personal philosophy, through which he executed the procedure of his factory. Laura's criticism struck him as rude and, all together, inaccurate.
All of these thoughts whirled throughout the room within a second, providing for a momentary build of tension so palpable that Laura felt herself sober considerably. She shifted again in her seat, this time transferring her feet from the cushion to her shoes on the floor before her in an act that displayed a return of self-awareness.
In turn, Wonka stood and looked down to Laura, meeting her eyes before he turned to sit behind his desk. As he began scribbling on the papers before him, evidently through with the conversation before it began, Laura heard him murmur: "Ah! happy boughs that cannot shed your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu."
At this point, Laura felt that she had overstayed her welcome and began packing her things, quite surprised by the sudden - and informal - dismissal. She tried not to think much of it; she simply hoped that she had not offended Mr. Wonka to the point where further work would prove punishing.
"Good day, Mr. Wonka. Thank you for your work today - I will see you two days from now."
"Thank you, Miss Tasis. You'll find the exit up the stairs. Good day."
And so she did.
[Author's note: The line recited by Wonka is part of Keats' "Ode on a Grecian Urn". The poem is a response to Shelley's "Ozymandias", which addresses the impermanent nature of man's conquest and efforts to build lasting monuments by describing a statue of Ramesses II (who is widely regarded as Egypt's most powerful and formidable pharaoh), of which only two legs and a decapitated head remains. In Keats' response, "Ode on a Grecian Urn" (to which Wonka's reference belongs), he refutes the idea that man's efforts to build empires will always fall victim to time by arguing that empires will always be remembered and continued through their art (here, he uses the example of a Grecian urn, which still has relevance today). Do with this information what you will. (;
I apologize for the succinct nature of this chapter - I tend to sacrifice length consistency for natural stopping points. I hope you're enjoying the story - it is a fun write, I will say. Thanks for reading!]