Questionable Choices [Yan!DSMP x Reader]

Chapter 20: Svok nv -|-->

"And please remind me why you're going to work for Schlatt, again?" Sam asks, looking to his side while driving you to the place needed. You're convinced that he's taking the longest route, due to the fact that he's already driven past the only road to your destination like three times, but you don't dare to tell him. You're not even sure if he knows where he's going.

After you came back home yesterday, you had a bit of a call with Schlatt over the phone. How he got your number? Who the fuck knows? He's the most powerful man in the city; if something is impossible, he'll make it possible and only for himself as well. But let's not stray away too much. The point is that he said that he could arrange a job for you. It would pay well and your working schedule would mainly depend on when you could, rather than when they needed you. "The last person passed away in a work-related accident," he told you. "So, the position is open. It's not a hard job for newbies like you, but who knows? Maybe you'll get a promotion in no time. You already have the privilege of having befriended me, after all." You have to admit: you're still surprised by how you and Schlatt grew so close in such a short amount of time, but at the same time, what is it that alcoholism can't do, right?

So, now you were on your way with your favourite personal taxi chauffeur to your job. A job that you knew nothing about, on the other side of the entire fucking city. But oh well, it's better than it being in the centre of it. At least, you wouldn't have to be concerned about judgmental rich bitches trying to get you to join their company (*cough cough* Wilbur *cough cough*).

"Because he suggested it. And I guess he doesn't hate me as much as I do? No idea. But he needs employees and apparently I look like a potential worker. As if I haven't been unemployed for several years now."

Sam lets out a sigh and holds the steel tight. "Say, if it turns out that the job isn't what you hoped it would be. Or if you get fired or whatever. Just know that you're always to work at Pandora's Security Service." Okay, maybe Sam is also one of those guys.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," you respond and before he can drive past the correct road again, you scream. "Here it is!" It's not like you don't like talking to him, but that's not why you're here, in the end. Sam stops the car and looks at you with a nod.

"Good luck. Call me if you need me to pick you up again."

"Thanks Sam," you smile at him, before getting out of the car and walking towards the building. Here it is. You have no idea what you're going to do here, but you hope that you won't have to be a janitor or something like that.

You wonder how the fuck someone managed to die to a 'work-related accident' when they worked at the fucking museum here, though.

You look at the building. No surprise that it's in the more outside suburbs of the city: it would look out of place in the centre. That and with the desert on the background, it's an amazing image for on a card. The building looks extremely similar to an Ancient Greek temple. Its pillars are high and support the roof. However, the pillars don't surround the entire building: only the part of the entrance. An old watermill is attached to the side and other than that, it's just a pretty fucking huge building. Quartz walls and a giant triangle above the entrance, with "Manseum" written there. There used to be an 'L'' in front of it, but it's obvious that they've just painted over that after it changed. The building on the other side of the Styx, next to where a bridge used to be. If you were to look on a map, you'd see that the Devil's Bridge and the Manseum are on exact opposites sides of each other.

When you're standing in front of the doors leading inside, you check the time. 13:58. You're here just in time. With a deep sigh, you walk inside and look at the reception of the Manseum. There, you find Connor talking to the employee who is soon going to be your co-worker, you assume. From what you know, the Manseum is a lot more old-fashioned, yet it still has only a few workers there at a time. The man at reception looks up and so does Connor, nodding at you awkwardly, before saying his goodbyes and leaving the museum. The man at the reception laughs at this. "Don't mind him," he says, "he has no social skills whatsoever."