#this is why I shouldn't be allowed near pens when I'm bored

[password-door-lock]

You're beginning to suspect that your new boss has no idea what an assistant is supposed to do.

Of course, that much probably should have been obvious when he deposited you on his lap and ordered you to keep quiet before he even told you his name, but you held out hope that this interaction would not be demonstrative of the overall working conditions here at Magenta. After all, Unknown probably didn’t plan on bringing you back here if he was trying to get you to go into that apartment, so it would follow that he might need a few hours to come up with a proper job for you. That was last night, however, and in the intervening hours, he's given you very little in the way of instruction. Actually, he's given you no instruction whatsoever, unless you count hugging you tightly and using your head as a chin rest as instruction— which you do not.

You've decided that your goal (for however long you're trapped in this man's employ) will be to try and figure out what the hell he wants from you. Granted, it’s going to be a challenge— he hasn’t even told you his name yet, and although he muttered something about ‘our paradise’ when he first brought you to this cold, dark computer room, he hasn’t said much else that might clue you in on where the fuck you are. You figure that the most natural place to start your investigation is by attempting to complete stereotypical 'assistant' tasks and gauging his response to them. You run through everything you know about assistant work, which is admittedly very little, and settle on something that seems very neutral: bringing the boss coffee. That's a promising place to start, right? 

Unknown, however, has other ideas. “Where do you think you're going?” He demands as you make your way toward the door. You should have known that he wouldn’t let you walk out of here without an interrogation. 

“To look for a coffee machine?” It comes out sounding like a question. He might be a bit weird, but you won't pretend to be under the impression that your boss is completely harmless. It’s probably best to stay on his good side, regardless of what you might think about his workplace management practices. “You know, I'm your assistant. I should be bringing you coffee, shouldn't I?”

“No,” Unknown says simply, standing up and approaching you only to pull you back into his lap. His plan is apparently to treat you like a sack of potatoes, and although he really shouldn't be trying to sling you around like that without warning, you decide that the safest possible option is for you to just go completely slack and let him do it. “I don’t like coffee.” 

Well, that’s something. You don’t know his real name, or why he brought you here, or what he has to do with that apartment, but at least you know his beverage preferences. “Tea, then?” 

Unknown’s only response is to give you a gentle squeeze before returning to his work. You should have known that you wouldn’t get more than one tidbit of information from him in the same conversation, and you probably should also have realized that he’s not planning on letting you out of his sight any time soon. So much for getting coffee, you suppose. 

Your next attempt at fulfilling your secretarial duties is to establish a little desk for yourself near the door of the intelligence room, so that you can intercept anybody who tries to get in your boss's way. Unknown, surprisingly, allows you to do this with only a bit of teasing. “What, you wanna work and serve the paradise?” He asks, misplaced mirth shining in his eyes. You don't understand why he’s so amused by your dedication, but you're pleased to see that you've moved onto the right track with your ideas about what life as his assistant should entail.

“Sure,” you reply, pushing the folding chair up to the card table. He won't give you any paper, but you managed to track down a pen and some disposable napkins— maybe he's only letting you do this because his legs are getting stiff from having you on his lap all the time.

It's a bit boring just sitting there waiting around, so you're very excited when somebody finally comes by. Before Unknown can do anything, you leap to answer the door. “For eternal paradise,” the hooded figure bows to you.

You're not entirely sure what to say to that. Unknown has never mentioned anything about this being a cult, but it would make a lot of sense if it were— after all, he's been talking a lot about saving you, and this isn't the first time you've encountered somebody wearing weird clothes. But, in your defense, you've been a bit preoccupied so far trying to figure out what your boss wants from you. You haven't had time to try and puzzle out the inner workings of Magenta. “Good morning,” you try.

They seem taken aback, as confused by your mundane greeting as you were by their cryptic oath. You get the feeling that most assistants don’t have to deal with cult etiquette on top of duties like answering phones and scheduling meetings.  “Um... I'm looking for Mr. Unknown.”

“Oh,” you beam. Maybe you’ll be able to handle this interaction after all.  “Well, I'm his assistant. You can schedule a meeting with me, and then—”

Unknown pushes you out of the way, shoving you just hard enough to get you out of the doorway but not enough to make you fall on the floor. Is he being considerate, or just exerting the minimum amount of force necessary to keep you in check? You suppose that the vast majority of your questions about this man will remain unanswered for the foreseeable future. “For eternal paradise,” he says to the stranger, as if nothing happened. “What do you want?”

The two of them exchange a few words before Unknown slams the door in the stranger's face, shooting you a glare on his way back to his seat. The message is clear: you have once again misinterpreted your duties as his assistant. It would certainly help if he would clarify his expectations verbally, but you understand that this is probably a little bit too much to expect from him. After all, he doesn't call himself Unknown for nothing, does he?

The issue is probably that your knowledge of real-world assistants (you would hardly call this a real-world job, considering that you're not allowed to have your phone, and that the boss refuses to compensate you for your labor in any way that doesn't sound vaguely cultish and incredibly irreverent toward any labor laws that may govern this weird castle) comes primarily from TV and movies. You really have to wrack your brain to think of other tasks that you’ve seen assistants carrying out before. “Is there a copy machine I should be using?”

“No,” Unknown informs you flatly. 

Yeah, that follows. “Okay,” you fall silent for a moment, allowing him to return to his work as you consider other assistant things. “Do you want me to make you a schedule or something?” 

“No,” he says again. “Just sit still and be quiet so I can do my work, hm?” 

“Ugh,” you huff. Now you've really exhausted your knowledge of assistants. “Do you have any files that you need me to organize?”

“Why?” Unknown asks you. He sounds genuinely perplexed. “You really wanna help me that bad?”

You consider it. Do you actually want to help him with whatever he's working on? Given that Mint Eye is clearly a cult, it might be better for you to avoid doing anything in support of its project— whatever that may be. But, then again, you’re bored, with nothing else to do, and you doubt that having a well-kept file cabinet will make or break Unknown’s success with whatever crime he’s trying to commit.  “I'm your assistant,” you remind him, “Shouldn't I be… you know, assisting you?”

“Mhm,” he hums, “You should. You wanna organize files?”

“I mean, I wouldn't normally do it for free,” you explain, “But since I don't have anything better to do, I may as well, right?” 

“Too bad,” Unknown tells you, mocking your determined expression with an exaggerated pout. At least he seems like he’s having fun.  “If you wanna assist me, you should try doing what I tell you, okay?” He starts to cackle, and you suppose you should have seen that coming. 

You’re beginning to suspect that  neither one of you has any idea what an assistant is supposed to do. 

[coffeedrawscircles]

Got stuck at the car dealership for five hours yesterday. Their AC was busted. Hooray. Doodled this on a napkin while I was dying of heat and boredom. I'll have actual art soon. And probably more keychains. I just had to get a bunch of stupid adult junk done this week.