#gif: sussoria

[minaslittleone]

Fission & Fusion (Part 4)

Part 1  Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

Summary: How did the refined and proper Wilhemina Venable end up working for two coked-up tech bros out of the back of a van?

An origin story of sorts, dedicated to the amazing @lucyintheskywithxanax  who has developed such a beautiful and nuanced depiction of Mina. This was inspired by her incredible story “And I failed to climb the mountain”.

Word count: ~3300

Wilhemina woke lazily the following morning to the warmth of sunlight on her face as it peaked through delicate lace curtains. It took her a few moments to remember where she was and to identify the source of the insistent scratching which had roused her. As she rolled onto her right side towards the bedroom door she caught sight of Miko's white dipped paw batting beneath it, scrabbling and scratching at the obstacle that dared to impede his free reign. An affectionate smile pulled at her lips as she watched his antics as she sleepily scrubbed at her eyes. His scratching stilled as she let out surprised gasp as her knuckles made contact with her bruised cheekbone, which was now undoubtedly swollen and probably a fetching mottle of red and purple. Now aware that she was awake, Miko's insistent scratching was replaced by a disgruntled meow. Wilhemina tried to ignore him, not really sure if he was allowed in the bedroom to begin with, but she was powerless to resist him once his meows were replaced by what could only be described as plaintiff cries. Who could resist that?

As she eased herself to her feet the full effects of the previous two days began to make themselves known. Her back was undoubtedly stiffer than usual but whether that was the result of two nights in unfamiliar beds or from crashing face first into concrete she couldn't be sure. Likely a combination of the two. The throbbing ache in her right wrist and hand as she supported herself on her cane was definitely a result of the concrete she rued, as she transferred the loathesome object to her uninjured left hand, her back complaining instantly. Today was looking like such a promising day.

Miko continued to make his displeasure known as she slowly made her way towards the door, his cries becoming increasingly insistent now that he could hear her moving. The moment she cracked the door the slightest distance ajar a flash of grey fur shot past her, heading directly for the patch of sunlit warmth at the centre of her recently vacated bed.

She tried valiantly to keep her features schooled as she scolded the cheeky feline who was currently in the process of kneading the covers into an acceptable state of comfort.

"Are you really meant to be up there, Miko?" The grey tabby cat shot her a questioning look as if to say "really human? You're the guest in my house and you're going to question if I'm allowed on the bed" before promptly turning his back on her and curling into a ball on his appropriately fluffed portion of the quilt.

She shook her head fondly, slowly making her way back towards the now occupied bed. Miko raised his head to study her as she gingerly lowered herself back onto the mattress, easing herself forwards to retrieve her book bag from beneath the bedside table. With practiced ease she flipped the lid on the amber pill bottle, dispensed two pills and threw them back dry. Normally she would muscle through the discomfort while the pills took effect but today, she reasoned, she had nothing to do and nowhere to be so for once she could actually listen to the pleading ache in her bones. It also helped that there was no one to witness her indulgence, other than Miko who had made his way across the bed to her and was currently standing about a foot away from her with his head cocked to the side, still not entirely sure what to make of her.

As she returned the pill bottle to her book bag she noticed the glass of water, which had evidently been left for her earlier that morning, and the handwritten note peaking from beneath the coaster on which it sat. She relished the way the cold glass dulled the ache in her hand as she raised it to her lips, pointedly ignoring the way her stomach churned at the tenderness behind it. Miko seemingly sensed her unease, trotting over to her and curling into a cosy ball against the side of her thigh. Her left hand rested against his tiny head, thumb stroking absentmindedly against the side of his chin, while her right hand returned the glass to the bedside table and retrieved the hand written note. She still could not place the feeling of unease it produced in her but she was emboldened to push past it by the comforting warmth of Miko pressed against her thigh, his rhythmic purring easing her nerves.

Good morning dear, I wanted to let you know I was leaving but I didn't have the heart to wake you, you looked so peaceful. I hope you slept well, I'm sure you needed it. I should be back around 6 baring any disasters but help yourself to anything in the meantime. And don't worry about Miko, he has been fed though I'm sure he will try to convince you otherwise. My office number is by the phone if you need anything. Try to take things easy today and be kind to yourself my dear. - Elizabeth

Wilhemina silently tested the shape of her adviser's given name, lips tentatively forming around the sounds. Of course she had seen the name Professor Elizabeth Thompson written for years but the explicit use of her christian name felt scandalously personal. A voice in the back of her head chided that thought - you spent last night in her guest bedroom and you're worried about using her given name? Ridiculous. Evidently in her preoccupation her left hand had stilled for Miko let out a sleepy chirup of annoyance, drawing her attention away from the complexity of her current relationship with her Professor. Elizabeth she reminded herself.

Having already disturbed Miko she took the opportunity to reposition herself to lay back down. The grey tabby was initially unimpressed to have his pillow so rudely removed but forgave her in short order, gently clambering up onto her chest as soon as she was laid flat. Miko stretched himself languidly, face contorting in a gigantic yawn that Wilhemina couldn't help but chuckle at. His little face came to rest upon her sternum, head cocked to the side, eyes watching her intently. Gently he lifted one paw, tiny pink toes pads coming to rest against Wilhemina's unmarred cheek, tenderly inquiring "more scritches, please." She happily complied, arm draping loosely across the little ball of fur who had wormed his way into her heart and her bed. As she began to scratch affectionately under his chin Miko craned his necked back in contentment and began purring again in earnest. Wilhemina smiled to herself as she allowed her eyes to close, the warm weight of the purring feline ensconced upon her chest lulling her to sleep. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to rest, just for a little while. Besides it would be cruel to disturb Miko when he looked so comfortable.

It was several hours later when she awoke again, judging by the way the sun no longer shone directly through the bedroom but instead created a bright indirect glow from further overhead. Wilhemina's stomach let out an indignant growl at the late hour, rousing Miko in the process who glared at her from beneath half lidded eyes. She scratched behind his ears in an apology which was evidently accepted as Miko began to nuzzle into her hand in response.

As she tentatively began to lever herself from the mattress Miko jumped down onto the bed and began to stretch out the kinks from his nap. Wilhemina looked on jealously as his spine extended as she slowly convinced her own vertebrae to support her weight. As she brought herself upright for the second time that day she noted gratefully that the painkillers seemed to have worked their magic, leaving her only slight tender even after the events of the past few days.

Navigating her way down the stairs proved to be somewhat challenging not merely from coordinating her balance with her cane in her left hand but also because Miko refused to leave her side, wending his way between her legs as she focussed intently on not breaking her neck. Having successfully reached the landing she made her way into the kitchen in search of breakfast, or whatever meal this now constituted. She noted gratefully that an assortment of cereals had been left on the kitchen counter, alongside a bowl and the necessities for tea and coffee, saving her from rooting through her professor's cupboards. She set the kettle to boil before preparing herself a bowl of muesli. As she set her tea to steep she couldn't help but roll her eyes at the mug Elizabeth had selected for her which proudly displayed the figure of Little Miss Stubborn, she couldn't really argue with the assessment but for once felt like such a gesture was meant as an affectionate jibe rather than an outright condemnation.

Miko stayed pressed against her ankles throughout the entirety of breakfast and whilst she cleared her dishes afterwards. He trailed behind her as she made her way back up the stairs, intending on changing out of her loungewear and into some proper attire. And he stopped beside her as she caught sight of contents of the room beside hers peaking through the door which had been left slightly ajar. The walls were painted with the most tender depictions of rabbits, squirrels, owls and deer, each peaking from amongst a lush forestscape. She found herself magnetically drawn to the scene, fingers ghosting across the hand painted figures on the plaster. Unfazed by her exploration Miko made himself at home on one of the two child-sized beds clothed in crisp white linen. An old oak bookself sat in the far corner of the room, practically bursting. Wilhemina's eyes skipped over many of the brighter, more modern spines, instead drawn to a shelf higher up full of older, more battered volumes whose titles she recognised from her own childhood. Familiar names jumped out to her like old friends - Blyton, Potter, Milne, Dahl. Far too many hours had been spent alone save for their company, whether alone and immobilised in a hospital bed or hidden beneath her bed clothes by torch light trying to block out her parents arguing, these had been her constant companions. She tenderly retrieved Matilda from the shelf, thumbing through the well worn pages, allowing the little girl she kept so securely locked away a moment to breathe, smiling fondly at the words which had given her hope in those moments of darkness.

So Matilda’s strong young mind continued to grow, nurtured by the voices of all those authors who had sent their books out into the world like ships on the sea. These books gave Matilda a hopeful and comforting message: You are not alone.

She remembered vividly the delicious taste of revenge the first time she had partaken in Matilda's retribution against all those adults who had tried to squash the precocious young girl. More than once she had allowed herself to imagine what it would have felt like to exact similar vengeance against her mother. How sweet it would have felt to bleach her perfectly coiffured hair, to place newts in the punch at one of her horrendous soirees or terrorize her parents with ghostly reminders of their failings. How she longed to make her mother feel an ounce of the pain to which she herself had been subjected.

Still clutching the much loved volume she curled up next to Miko and allowed herself to retreat to a world of childhood comfort in which the underdog could triumph, in which I'm big, you're little could be usurped, in which Miss Honey might reach tenderly from the pages and adopt her too.

That was where Professor Thompson found her several hours later, relishing in the climax of the novel as Matilda vanquished Ms Trunchbull. She smiled fondly at the young woman she had always known to be so controlled and regimented curled lazily against the wall on her granddaughter's bed, Miko lounging against her thigh and contented smile playing across her lips behind a curtain of firey red hair. The floorboards creaked beneath the older woman's feet alerting Wilhemina to her presence. Her cheeks flushed furiously as she sheepishly met the older woman's gaze but found only genuine affection in her grey-blue eyes.

"Don't even think about apologising, my dear. I told you to make yourself at home and I meant it."

In spite of Elizabeth's assurances Wilhemina still felt the need to explain herself. "I didn't mean to end up in here" she began, "I saw the paintings and I only meant to look at them but then I saw the books and -"

"Wilhemina," the older woman cut her off kindly, "stop apologising. You've done nothing wrong, you needn't justify your every action. Not to me at least" she added knowingly. "My daughter will be flattered that you liked her paintings, though I really should show you photos of the masterpiece she created in the children's room back east. She works as a children's illustrator, though I think she would much prefer to do larger pieces like these if there was the work in it."

"I don't think I've ever seen anything so beautiful" Wilhemina whispered reverently. "Their little faces are just so sweet."

"I'll be sure to tell her you think so. Now, I should leave you to finish with Matilda, dinner should take me twenty minutes or so which, knowing the speed you read at, should be ample time."

"Oh no, it's fine" Wilhemina interjected, "I know how it ends, I've lost count of how many times I read it as a child. I should come and help you."

The older woman sighed, of course Matilda would be a favourite of hers. "Nonsense dear, finish your book. I'll call you when it's ready." And with that she was gone.

Wilhemina was indeed finished with the book when the older woman called her for dinner twenty minutes later, her voice floating up the stairs as if Wilhemina's presence at her dinner table was the most natural thing in the world. The simple meal of pasta Alfredo was passed in companionable silence between the two women, with Miko dividing his time equally between them. He remained under their feet as they cleared the dishes, with Wilhemina bracing her weight against the kitchen counter through her left hip to grant herself two free hands with which to dry the clean dishes as the older woman handed them off to her. Elizabeth shook her head fondly at the young woman's stubborness, once she set her mind to something there really was no stopping her.

Wilhemina was drying and putting away the last of the cutlery when the older woman disappeared momentarily, only to return with a manila folder which she placed atop the freshly cleaned kitchen table. Wilhemina eyed it warily. The older woman placed two cups of tea beside it and gestured for Wilhemina to join her. She did so cautiously.

"No need to look so nervous my dear, it's nothing bad. I just brought home the list of available casual positions from the careers centre on campus, I thought you might like to take a look to see if anything interested you."

Wilhemina froze. Of course it was too good to be true. Of course the kind older woman had grown sick of her already. Why wouldn't she, when she was nothing but a useless burden? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. How could you think that anyone would actually put up with you?

Professor Thompson caught the way Wilhemina's shoulders stiffened and how her jaw tensed, as if preparing herself for an attack. She reached out and took the younger woman's hand in her own.

"There is no pressure dear. This is not about me getting rid of you. I simply thought you might be interested, I know you must be anxious about what comes next, you've never been one to be without a plan." Wilhemina suddenly felt very small and seen in a way she never had been before. It was simultaneously terrifying and yet so, so safe.

"It can wait as long as you like" the older woman continued, "but I'll leave it here for whenever you're ready."

"No, I mean, I'm ready now" Wilhemina blurted, "I just thought you meant-"

"I know my dear, I know" the older woman cut her off with a firm squeeze of her hand, earning her a shy smile from the younger woman. "Would you like me to stay or -"

"Stay" Wilhemina affirmed, "please?"

"Of course dear, now where do you want start?"

"Well, I suppose law or business makes the most sense" Wilhemina sighed, "at least I have some experience there."

"I didn't ask where you should start dear, I asked where you wanted to start - there's a difference. You said your parents chose law for you, what would you have chosen? If you could start over and choose for yourself what would you do?"

Wilhemina froze at that. She had accepted so long ago that she would simply follow the path her parents had set out for her that she had almost managed to convince herself that she wanted it too. It did no-one any good for her to pine after a future that could never be hers.

"I don't know" she stared at the older woman, eyes wide with the realisation.

"What do you miss from highschool then?" the older woman tried. "Is there a subject you enjoyed that you had to give up?"

She considered that for a moment. "Science, maybe?" she added shyly, "I liked that it was predictable, that I could know what to expect."

"Ok" the older woman prompted, fingers rifling through the folder, "any particular area?"

"Electronics or computers, maybe?" She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, as if waiting to be punished for daring to express her own desires.

"Ok, there are a couple here that could fit." The older woman traced her finger through the list of positions. "This one looks interesting. A couple of graduate students from the engineering faculty are looking for someone to help with data management and organisation for a start-up. They seem to be interested in bionic limb development" she added, sliding the paper towards Wilhemina, finger marking the appropriate notice.

Wilhemina scanned the brief description greedily, trying to temper her expectations. It sounded perfect but she daren't allow herself to even begin to hope that it might be possible.

"I think you would be perfect for it."

Wilhemina scoffed in response, "I don't know the first thing about robotics."

"But they aren't asking for that dear, they're asking for someone to help with organisation. They want someone who is meticulous and logical to help keep track of their data - that is you to a T. You would be brilliant at that. And it would allow you to see if it's an area that you like and maybe later you could transition into a more technical position, or go back and study more about it if you wanted."

"Look" the older woman reached out to tap the paper in front of Wilhemina, "it even says they have patents filed and a company formed. It seems to have all the makings of a long term prospect."

Wilhemina could feel her heart start to flutter at the possibility, that maybe, just maybe it wasn't too late for things to change. She scanned through the notice again, Elizabeth was right, it did sound perfect. And try as she might she couldn't help but look at the company name printed at the end of article with the hope that maybe it also inscribed her future.

Kineros Robotics

A/N: there is one more part to come after this, though I think I will likely dip back into this universe as one-shots from time to time to explore some of the key moments between here and apocalypse. If there are any particular things you would be interested to see feel free to hit me up

[robichaux-ahs]

michael langdon x mr. gallant headcanons

fluff

requested by: anon

before the apocalypse michael came into his shop once and got his hair done. after his interaction with gallant it became his goal to keep his hair perfect at all times

in the outpost michael realized it was gallant and internally freaked the fuck out

“oh my god is my hair okay”

“he’s going to fucking ridicule me”

michael talks to himself in the mirror as he pampers himself up before their meeting

gallant walks in and doesn’t remember michael at all

“are you gay because i’m getting vibes”

they start dating two weeks later

gallant asks michael out

soft!michael

gallant gets nose kisses in the morning!!

little ear smooches

wow they are kinky but also super soft

not afraid of pda

well michael is, but gallant literally gives zero fucks

secretly overprotective michael. he thinks gallant is trying to get with andre stevens (dinah’s son)

“if your son gets with gallant i swear dinah i will kill him and then you”

weird little side glances when they eat dinner at the table

ok they binge watch netflix on michael’s computer and gallant hadn’t realized how starved he was of shows in the outpost

when something happens they look at each other like cameras on the office

(gif by sussoria)

i hope you enjoy these!! send me some more asks with headcanons, fic requests, opinions, or anything else!!

[minaslittleone]

Fission & Fusion (Part 5)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Summary: How did the refined and proper Wilhemina Venable end up working for two coked-up tech bros out of the back of a van?

An origin story of sorts, dedicated to the amazing @lucyintheskywithxanax who has developed such a beautiful and nuanced depiction of Mina. This was inspired by her incredible story “And I failed to climb the mountain”.

Word count: ~ 3500

Once again Wilhemina found herself waiting. A side effect, she supposed, of her deeply ingrained fear of tardiness, of disappointing or inconveniencing, or of drawing attention in general. She withdrew the manila folder from her book bag for the fourth time, restlessly thumbing through the contents, ensuring they were all present and in order. She checked her watch again, 10:38, still far too early for an 11 am interview.

To pass the time she flicked through her resume yet again, not that there was much to be done if she found an error at this point anyway. As she skimmed over the document she couldn't help but feel detached from it, as if it was describing someone else. The young woman breathed to life by these words was positive, successful, brilliant and bold, she had the world at her finger tips not the handle of a cane. Wilhemina certainly didn't see herself in the woman on the page and never would have described herself as such. Which is probably why Elizabeth had insisted on "helping" write her application.

After a lifetime of trying to curl herself into a tight little ball away from prying eyes, of not daring to claim a success without the strongest of evidence confirming it, this type of posturing left a bilious taste in her mouth. Elizabeth had assured her, as she had almost entirely rewritten Wilhemina's initial draft, that a resume was intended to present you in the best possible light. Think of it like make-up, she had said, the bones and the core structure remain the same, you just blur over some of the imperfections and embellish your best assets. To Wilhemina it felt more like cosmetic surgery, surely she couldn't be moulded into the desirable candidate on the page with only superficial modification, no it felt like she would need to be entirely broken down and reconstructed to even approach this version of herself.

10:42. There was no point even worrying she reasoned, there was no way she stood a chance. Surely Kineros Robotics had received dozens of applications from people far more qualified, with far more experience than her. Or maybe they weren't even looking for experience, maybe they were looking for office eye candy to keep them entertained. She was even less qualified for that.

10:47. In five minutes she could start walking to the address indicated on the photocopied street directory page currently clutched in her right hand. If she walked slowly (who was she kidding - *when* she walked slowly because of her damn cane) it would take her about five minutes to reach the address from the small park in which she had spent the past 34 minutes waiting. Her right knee bounced nervously at the prospect. She thumped her thigh viciously in retaliation. Get it into your head, you airheaded little girl, there is no way they are going to want you, there is no way they are going to hire you. You are making a fool of yourself.

If she was honest, she was still shocked at having even been asked to interview. She had told herself that her application would in all likelihood end up in the trash unread, better that than a source of amusement that she had even dared to apply in the first place. Elizabeth had told her to have more confidence in herself, to allow herself room to succeed. "You are allowed hope and to dream and to want, Wilhemina" the older woman had insisted. Wilhemina wasn't so sure, wanting and hoping left one dangerously open to disappointment, better to keep expectations low. It was easier that way.

10:51. She checked the map one last time before returning it, along with the manila folder, to her book bag and slowly pressing herself to her feet. As she smoothed down her black pencil skirt her eyes were drawn to the delicate silver chain adorning her left wrist. She had been in the midst of trying to wrestle her nearly waist-length hair into an acceptably neat ponytail when Elizabeth had knocked on her door that morning.

"I have no idea how you have the patience to deal with that much hair, my dear. Cutting mine off just after Anna was born was the best thing I ever did, it used to drive me mad"

"I could never pull off short hair, my face is too long and my jaw is too square. My mother always said the more hair I had to hide behind, the better." Wilhemina replied matter-of-factly, as if there was nothing at all unusual about being so callously undermined by the person who was supposed to love you no matter what. Elizabeth sighed, now was not the time to fight that battle.

"Hold out your hand dear" hesitantly, Wilhemina complied, though her eyes belied a concern that she was about to have her knuckles rapped. Now is not the time. The older woman's fingers gently rotated Wilhemina's hand to enable her to clasp the delicate silver chain around her petite wrist.

As her left hand was released, Wilhemina brought her right thumb to reverantly caress the small horseshoe pendant now dangling from her wrist before raising a confused gaze to the older woman.

"My grandmother gave it to me when I was little, the horseshoe is supposed to bring good luck. I used to wear it to all my exams, even up to my faculty review panel. I thought you might like to borrow it for today."

Conflict painted itself clearly across Wilhemina's features, eyes wide and hopeful, yet slightly terrified, teeth worrying at her bottom lip which quivered in spite of its restraint. This poor girl wanted so desperately to reach out and grasp every tiny morsel of kindness offered to her but seemed unable to for fear it would be snatched away at the last second.

In an attempt to assuage some of the doubt the older woman tried again, "Please, it would mean a lot to me if you would."

Those big, brown hopeful eyes met hers, searching for any last sign of deceit, before Wilhemina nodded and offered her a shy smile, all the while still thumbing at the dainty silver chain.

As she anticipated within five minutes she found herself in front of the prescribed address, in spite of the slow pace dictated by her cane. What she did not expect, however, was what she found before her. She had at least expected some sort of office space, nothing fancy of course but something that at least held some sort of professional air. Certainly not the somewhat dilapidated bungalow that stood before her which appeared to be some sort of college share house.

Wilhemina sighed, of course it was too good to be true. Of course something that looked so promising on paper could never just work out the way that she had planned. This was either some form of cruel joke where her classmates would pop out from behind the front door to laugh at her folly or something more sinister. But then a voice piped up in her ear, which sounded suspiciously like Elizabeth, whispering “have a little faith my dear”. Honestly, at this point what did she have to lose anyway.

The muffled commotion punctuated by several choice swear words which answered her knock at the door did not particularly fill her with confidence. Neither did the scruffy looking young man (boy really for he did not look like her could be more than 18) with shoulder length ginger hair which looked desperately in need of a wash. She sighed, best get this over with.

“My name is Wilhemina Venable, I’m here to interview for the administrative position”

The young man remained still for a moment, seemingly confused. “Oh shit, yeah, no, right Mutt told me about this, the investor guys have been on our case about improving our record keeping or some bullshit like that. I told them, there’s no problem with our record keeping man, we keep everything, we’ve got a whole room of the shit we have to keep for legal or tax reasons or whatever. But no, apparently we have to be able to find stuff in there and know where it is. How were we supposed to know that? How am I supposed to actually get anything done and exploit my full creative genius when I have to worry about crap like that?”

Wilhemina assumed the question was rhetorical but the way the dishevelled young man left it hanging between them almost suggested that he expected an answer, leaving the two of them staring awkwardly at each other not quite sure of how to proceed. Thankfully, this was soon interrupted by a second young man, perhaps a few years older than the first (this one was at least old enough to grow facial hair, which Wilhemina was not sure could be said of the first) sporting an equally greasy, lanky hairstyle but in a fetching shade of muddy brown. This one it seemed as well had at least attained a basic level of social etiquette.

“Jeff” he hissed, “I told you to go clear the back table for the interview”

“You told me to answer the door”

“No, well yes, ok I did, but that was when I thought it might have been the pizza guy. Now I’m telling you to clear the table.”

The pointed glances and direct tone finally seemed to register with the younger one who reluctantly stalked back down the hallway and out of Wilhemina’s sight, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “just because he’s two years older than me, he thinks he knows everything.”

“I’m sorry about him, I promise you he’s a good guy and he’s actually crazy smart, he’s just not the best with people. I’m Mutt, by the way, we spoke on the phone.”

“Wilhemina” she replied, pleasantly surprised when her proffered hand was shaken with a firm and yet not overly aggressive grip. This one, she mused, was at least capable of basic conversation. “If it isn’t too forward of me to ask, how old is Jeff?” she continued, as she followed him down the hallway.

Mutt outright laughed at that. “Nah, you’re 'right, he gets that all the time. He’s got such a baby face that no one believes that he’s twenty. He skipped a couple of grades, as I said the guy’s crazy smart, just sometimes you have to forgive him for being a bit rough around the edges.”

The hallway opened onto a kitchen/dining area where Jeff was removing old pizza boxes and dirty dishes from a large wooden table. Mutt shot him a foul look as he shoved a piece of presumably day-old pizza into his mouth whole, before gesturing to Wilhemina to take a seat. Having situated herself she slid the manila folder across the table. “I brought copies of all the application documents, just in case they are helpful” she said in response to the perplexed looks that greeted it. Unsurprisingly, Mutt recovered quicker.

“Oh yeah, thanks, that’s great. The copy you sent is probably in the office somewhere, but god knows where.” He offered her a sheepish grin. Jeff seemed far more interested in the family of finches fliting in and out of the eaves above the kitchen window.

“So basically, as you can probably tell organisation is really not our thing and some of our investors are threatening to pull their support if we can’t show them that we have that side of things under control. So pretty much we're looking for someone to keep on top of all that stuff and ideally someone who has some sort of idea about what we're meant to be doing, cos that is definitely not our jam. You're majoring in commercial law right, you must know all about this stuff?" Mutt eyed her expectantly.

Wilhemina took a moment to consider her answer. The truth was that she had only a very abstract knowledge of business management, she knew the legal theory behind the regulations but certainly wouldn't call herself familiar with the practical implications. Although her first instinct was to openly declare her lack of experience, she endeavoured to follow Elizabeth's advice, after all it had gotten her this far. Blur over the imperfections and highlight the assets.

“My expertise is certainly more towards the theoretical aspects of commercial law than the day to day management, but I'm familiar enough with what is required from a legal perspective that I'm sure it should be straight forward enough to determine what is required of you in a practical sense." Good job.

"Do you have any kind of formal business structure in place?" she inquired. "You said you had registered Kineros as a company, do you know if all the paperwork was properly filed for that and whether you had business ID numbers set up?”

From Mutt's expression she might as well have asked in French. “Honestly, I have no idea. When we started this the university handled all the legal stuff and no one really explained much of what was happening to us. Then they decided they weren’t particularly interested in enforcing the patents, or whatever you call it, so since we were still students they just turned over all of the stuff to us and let us loose. I promise you we have everything.”

“You just don’t know where it is” Wilhemina concluded. This was beginning to feel less like a job interview and more like a plea for help.

“Well, I mean, we know its in the office” Jeff interjected, before he was silenced by a withering glare from Mutt.

“We can show you if you’d like” Mutt added, “so you know what you’d be getting yourself in for.”

“Wait a minute, don’t you have any questions for me?” Wilhemina interjected.

“Nah, the reference from Professor Thompson said all I needed to know.” Mutt replied. “My older sister had her for a couple of classes freshman year and she always used to say how she took no shit from anyone and that she was really tough but fair. The fact that she thinks enough of you to write a reference, let alone one as good as the one she wrote for you, tells me that, honestly, you’re more qualified than we deserve.”

This was not what she had been expecting at all. She had geared herself up to fight tooth and nail to be taken seriously, to be given the opportunity to even plead her case and yet here she found herself being so unequivocally accepted that she didn’t quite know what to do with it. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had looked at her and seen inherent worth without her having to fight to prove it to them.

Still somewhat off kilter from the unexpected reception she allowed herself to be shown to “the office”. The dumping ground, however, would have been a more appropriate description. The room looked to have once been a bedroom but was now littered with numerous piles of paperwork of various heights and states of disorder. Part of Wilhemina dared to hope that there might be some sort of system to the piles but from what she had seen so far she very much doubted it.

“We know it’s a disaster, and we can totally help to go through all this stuff but honestly we don’t even know what we’re meant to be looking for.” Mutt added, at least seemingly embarrassed by the sight before them.

Wilhemina brought her free left hand up to pinch at the bridge of her nose, trying to alleviate some of the tension building between her eyes. This was a disaster. This was illegal on so many levels, and certainly did not meet the standards required for company record keeping. Was she really going to, by choice, throw her lot in with these two and their absolute disaster of a business.

“Is there anything else you can show me?” Wilhemina ventured, praying that there wasn’t a second equally disastrous room somewhere, or god forbid a garage.

“Not really, I mean we only really have this and the shop.” Mutt confirmed.

“Dude, you gotta stop calling your dad’s old van a shop and like she wants to see that anyway.”

“Actually, I would” Wilhemina tried to interject but Mutt was preoccupied with defending the validity of the shop itself.

“What’s the difference between what we have and a shed, ours just happens to be on wheels which is great if we need to move and also…” Mutt paused, having finally seemed to register Wihemina’s interest. “Wait a second, you want to see it?”

Wilhemina froze, suddenly aware of just how stupid and naïve that sounded. Why on earth would you need to see their workshop? So you know where to take their coffee and snacks? Because that’s all the use you’ll be in there. You are here as a secretary, get that through your thick skull before you ruin this entirely.

“I mean only if you don’t mind.”

This time it was Jeff that answered her. “Of course he doesn’t mind, that workshop is his pride and joy, he’ll spend all day talking your ear off about it if you let him.”

“Shut up, Jeff, you’re just as proud of it as I am.”

“I’m proud of all the awesome kit we have in it, I couldn’t give a crap about the fact that its on wheels”

“Why are you so anti the wheels, man?”

“Because it makes us look stupid, what kind of company boasts about the fact that their running their operation out of the back of a van.”

The stand off was broken as Wilhemina cleared her throat in effort to remind the two boys of her presence.

“Shit, sorry. Of course you can see it.” Mutt answered (as Jeff mimicked him). “Come on, it's just out the back”

As they exited the back of the house, there was indeed a white transit van parked smack bang in the middle of the backyard. For once Mutt seemed to be the more excitable of the two, bounding ahead to slide open the side door before jumping in, followed by Jeff. Wilhemina came to a stop at the side door, eyeing the foot-high step with incredulity. Clearly, they expected her to follow them, the logistics of that though she hadn’t quite determined.

Jeff and Mutt returned to the door only to quickly realise their error. To their credit, they had very diligently avoided staring at her cane but now Jeff couldn’t help but let his eyes fall to it. Wilhemina felt so very exposed in front of them. But Mutt, seemingly unfazed extended a hand to her as if it was the most natural thing in the world that she couldn’t make it up a foot-high step unassisted. Despite her best efforts the discomfort obviously made it through to show on her features, but once again Mutt took it in his stride. “Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall” he reassured her, helping her up into the van. And god help her, she believed him.

If the sight of the house, the office and the van had been a disappointment, the shop more than made up for it. A workbench ran the length of either side of the cavity, with only a small gap on one side in front of the door through which they passed. The entire surface was littered with various electronic components, gears, pulleys and rods, all mixed in with a vast assortment of tools. In one corner sat a computer displaying the blueprint of a hand with some sort of algorithm running in a smaller window in the corner. Everywhere she looked there was something new and she had no idea what any of it did but right now she didn’t care. It felt like Alice passing through the looking glass, everything seemed brighter and more vivid, like it couldn’t possibly be real. And yet it was. Inside her something began to bloom, something that tasted suspiciously like joy and excitement, so much so that she couldn’t help but smile.

Mutt met her gaze and returned her smile, genuinely glad, if not more than a little surprised, to have found someone who truly appreciated their little kingdom.

“Welcome to Kineros Robotics”

 A/N: And that is it for now. But I have a whole list of one-shots that I want to explore in this universe that I cannot wait to get started on. Feel free to hit me up if you have any suggestions or requests as well.

 Taglist: @lovelypeasantjellyfish @lilypadscoven @lucyintheskywithxanax​