Sunnyside (a Sebastian Stan story)

Research Assistant

A/N: another short chapter, but it ends where it made sense for me to break up what I've written. Please vote, if you're enjoying this at all. It helps me out tremendously.

   Sam slapped a notebook and a pen on the table in front of me. "We're doing a drink:reapplication ratio. Column A and Column B," she said. Lists, x's, that I could handle. "I'm going for a nice, tall beer to start, and since you're helping me out, drinks are on me. What'll you have?"

   I grinned. "For the sake of science, I'd better have what you're having." I liked Sam. She was no nonsense, she spoke her mind, and she oozed confidence. Outwardly at least -I remembered her slamming her laptop in disgust at her own work. She swaggered towards the bar and I divided my page into columns and labeled it, chuckling at the prospect of keeping tabs on things I never really thought of or cared much about.

   Sam came back and placed a tall glass heavily in front of me and took her seat across the table. She was impossibly tall, and I was glad she chose to sit because her heels added to her height and made me nervous. I was tiny by comparison, even in my favorite blue pumps. "Ready, set, apply," she ordered, and I pulled out my bright red lipstick, beginning our research.

   "I get the feeling this is out of character for you," she remarked as I sipped. "Hanging out with a stranger at a bar."

   "A bit. I seem to be opening up to a lot of 'me time' lately though."

   "That's good, right? You can't give all your time to other people."

   "It's not always other people; mostly it's my business, actually," I said.

   "Tell me how that's not other people?" She smiled at me over her glass, the light bouncing off the liquid inside and briefly painting her face gold. "I mean, that's what you do, right? Help other people?"

   "Yeah but it's inventory and finances and contracts..." I trailed off, waving my hand in the air dismissively, like it was nothing. It did feel pretty good to leave that behind for another night though.

   "Does anybody help you with that?"

   I shook my head. "It's tedious and I'm a little bit of a stickler when it comes to all that. But I'm gonna ask one of my housekeepers to step into an assistant manager type position soon."

   "Good," she winked at me.

   "How about you? Spend a lot of time at bars with people you chat up at coffee shops?"

   "Perhaps less than I should," she said. "No, I prefer parties, and generally with friends, although lord knows I haven't allowed myself time enough to hang on to more than one or two of those."

   "Work?"

   "Work," she agreed. "It takes a lot of time and commitment to get yourself noticed in my line of work. I'm lucky to be published at all and not still fact-checking and running for donuts."

   "So, what, no boyfriend or anything? Girlfriend?" I pried.

   She laughed. "I'm not sure I want one. I'm doing alright without all the extra complications of a relationship right now." She put an x in her Column A and waved to a waitress to bring us each another.

   I followed suit, draining my glass. "You need a retouch," I said, miming putting lipstick on.

   "This one loses," she sighed. "How about you? I gather it wasn't a boyfriend we were talking about yesterday."