Saccharin『 yandere o.shots』(Requests: OPEN)

Sammy Lawrence (P1)

ah yes, samuel "sammy" lawrence. 

an award winning musician who constantly looked exhausted, with his light-brown hair and the addition of already sharp features, all these combined gave him quite the ghostly appearance. almost like the classic charismatic ghoul from those novels you'd occasionally read.

with his quite literally haunting looks, soon followed the horror stories that came from his staff. from what you heard from the other employees who worked with him, the image painted by their words was that he was... very eccentric?

he was definitely passionate about his work, to the point that he was quite the harsh critic, and impatient, and condescending, and snarky, somewhat a bigwig--- well... eccentric wasn't the word, but it came close enough to do the job.

what were you talking about again? ah yes, sammy.

the big-boss wanted y'all to collaborate, somehow? your departments didn't really have much in common but he still wanted you two to work together.

so much so that he quite literally never shared the idea, notified or even properly scheduled the meeting, he just suddenly called you two into his office, gave a few vague explanations and a scratchy storyboard then left.

classic mr drew.

sammy doesn't seem to think the same, he looked like joey's words took decades off his lifespan. he was grumbling and swearing under his breath, hunched over in his chair.

"lovely, just... absolutely fantastic! jus... just great!"

he sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose, before turning to you like he was about to give a piece of his mind before quickly switching up his tune. he looked like a deer in headlights, to say the least.

"oh, it's... you--- who he wanted me to collaborate with." his voice cracked, he tugged on the chord of his suspenders, still keeping the eye contact.

"aye, don't know the complete reason or the hows. seems like the boss just wants it done."

"right... right," he looked sicker than before, like he was hit straight on the face with a fever. "so uhm... any ideas?"

"none yet, sams."

"i...yes, that's to be expected, and all of a sudden..." he mumbled the last part "'---still! i'm sure we could figure out some things."

not soon after finished the sentence, he got up from his seat and proceeded to open the door, seemingly waiting for you to go ahead of him. you muttered a faint 'thanks' and he followed you outside.

"what's the deadline?"

"the paper says about..." he squinted, "a week? but knowing his ways, he'll half it or go even shorter."

"well, guess we gotta make haste, then. yours or mine?"

"how--what?"

"department. whose place to discuss, maybe the break room instead..?"

"ah yes, but surely not the break room. always smelling of smoke and full of people. the audio room will be silent since staff always know to keep it quiet. there'll be less distractions and no interferences."

you hummed thoughtfully, "good idea, lead the way."

his eyes crinkled at the approving comment "don't mind if i do."

the both of you made your way through the ink-sticky hallways, he seemed annoyed whenever he accidentally stepped on a puddle or had to duck under low hanging pipes. he'd worry over you whenever you accidentally hit your head or get ink anywhere on your clothing, literally wiping it off with his own hands.

the sound of chatter could be heard from the rooms before, almost as if it escaped through the cracks of the door like floods. "now..." he pushed the door open, the sounds of people slowly dwindling upon the disapproving gaze of the musician.

"isn't that much better?" he guided you over to the recording booth, "no more distractions."

"could hear a needle drop 'ere."

he chuckled, "all great artists needs perfect concentration to create their masterpieces." he said, pulling a chair for you, "now..."

during your time with him, you've come to learn that he was someone who loved to talk, he was quite literally brainstorming and rambling for the both of you. 

though, you didn't mind it that much. his tired eyes looked slightly less foggy and he had dimples on the corners of his mouth whenever a favorite topic came. he truly was passionate and wanted to share every detail of his plans, even scribbling a few notes for reference.

a thing you noticed is that he'd occasionally sneak glances at you. be it during or in between scribbles, speeches or even if he was taking a pause to take a sip from his mug, filled to the brim with pure, light absorbing black coffee (it did look slightly more condensed than normal coffee but it was the least of your concerns).

at least the project went smoothly, though-- well...

"is it finished?"

"well ah... not really--- kept getting stuck on a few parts of the project." you laughed nervously, picking at the stitching of your clothes, "not that it's difficult, just a block."

"i see... no need to stress, we still have a bit of time left. i don't know much about this topic but i'm willing to give advice, if you have the ear for it."

he's staring at you again. with those ever widening eyes, like a religious fanatic trying to appease a deity.

"even better, i could take over for a bit."

"as much as i want to be lazy, i'll pass. i already feel guilty enough over you doing most of the work, 'gotta pull my own weight."

"nonsense, you already do so much for me. i could get you some coffee instead, anything, really. just say the word."

"you make a really convincing point, sammy."

---

low effort. count the puns

request/gift for a friend.