↳ 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘥 - 𝙖𝙡𝙛𝙞𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙨

♧

word count; 2624
warnings; light abuse mentions
[ not from Alfie ]

You don't have to glance at the clock for the millionth time to know you're incredibly late for work. The first, and hopefully only, time. Perhaps your nerves would be less frazzled if you had an ordinary boss. Anyone other than Alfie Solomons. You can already hear the earful he's got in store for you.

The thought of it alone causes a cruel shiver to run down your spine as you rush into the factory with your head down to avoid the series of unwanted and judgemental stares. During your rushed walk you pray that Mr Solomons is too busy elsewhere to notice your entrance, but it seems your luck ran out a long time ago.

"Ah, [Y/n]." You unknowingly hold your breath at the sound of his raspy voice from across the bakery. "Nice of you to finally join us." The enigma of a man makes his way over to your desk, strong arms folded over his chest. A curse dies in your throat.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Solomons." Your voice wavers.

Despite your eyes refusing to lift higher than the stack of papers by your lamp, you can still feel his burning holes in your head. You presume by now, due to his naturally booming tone and people's love for gossip, every worker has diverted their attention to you. One quick side glance confirms such suspicions.

"I don't tolerate late comers in my line of work. Makes for a bad image. One I can't afford to have these days."

"I know, I'm sorry. It won't happen again I swear."

"If I had a shilling every time I heard that, I'd have enough to fly me far away from this shithole, and I mean far." Alfie then notices the number of curious stares cast in your direction and lowers his fists to his sides. "Get back to fuckin' work!"

Your knees almost buckle from sheer relief when everyone resumes their tasks and Alfie leaves you to it. Dropping into the chair with an exhale, you build a wall around your tangled ball of emotions and begin your very long to-do list for the day.

As usual you run over your normal finishing time, not noticing your work has swept you well into the evening until you look up to find everyone has gone home for the night. Leaning back in your seat, you listen to the footsteps travelling closer. You recognise them. Light, fast.

"Mr. Solomons has requested you see him in his office."

Of course he has. Sending Ollie a tired smile you swiftly leave your desk and make your way to your boss's office. All day you've dreaded this very moment for you know exactly how it'll go. He'll simply tell you to fuck off for wasting his time. That's how he gives people the sack, he doesn't bother with kind words. Why would he?

After taking a deep breath to calm yourself you let your knuckles brush against the door. Waiting for him to beckon you in before entering and closing the door behind you.

There he sits at his desk, laidback with his hands clasped together. Completely calm and collected unlike you who's a trembling mess ready to breakdown any second. You toy with your fingers as a subconscious distraction, suffocating under the thick silence. He hums at your decision to keep your head down. Like a guilty child awaiting a scolding.

"Take a seat." With a gulp you obey. He continues to observe you, surveying you from top to bottom with narrowed eyes. Fingers scratching at his beard while he ponders. "You've never been late to work. Care to explain why today was any different?"