Vincent couldn't help but keep poking at the stitches on his throat, and each time he did, a disgusted shiver would run down his spine. It was hard not to fidget and feel the bumps of stitches as he waited to talk to Tabitha, the woman who had been holding the clipboard yesterday. Melodie ordered him down here, to wait in the slim hallway in a tiny chair. He felt as though he was being held back in fifth grade twenty times and sent to the principal's office.
Eventually the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway and Tabitha appeared in front of him. "Vincent," she said in greeting and motioned for him to follow her to the end of the hall. She opened the door there and waited until he hesitantly stepped inside. Inside the small room was a desk and a chair on either side. Papers in neat stacks littered the desk but it was given a more cozy look by the lamp that was near the edge of its surface. His eyes lingered on the lamp, as it was such an unusual sight . . . and then his eyes traced down to the cord, and lingered on the plug. Electricity?! But he acted as though he didn't see it while he took a seat without being asked.
Tabitha took the seat across from him, looking even smaller compared to the desk. She stared at him with a steely and unreadable expression. He returned her gaze because she was honestly a little intimidating, though he would have done it even if she wasn't. It was almost as though she took this as a sign because she chose then to break the staredown and begin talking.
"You didn't act very appropriately towards Melodie," she stated in a this-is-all-business tone.
Vincent quirked a brow. "This is the apocalypse, I didn't think political correctness mattered anymore."
Tabitha cocked her head to the side slightly. "So that must mean that maturity doesn't matter anymore, too."
"Your man swinging a damn frying pan into my head to kidnap me and take me here isn't very mature, either," Vincent shot back.
"That was his choice, not mine. And that whole situation is besides my point, and yours too." Her voice never changed a bit, showing no anger. But it seemed to get colder.
"You mean my wanting to leave, right?"
She answered with a stout nod. "Yes. As I had been stating earlier, you didn't show Melodie the proper respect she deserves for her willingness to treat you, but she also did not act appropiately--"
"Yeah, thank you," Vincent interrupted smugly. Tabitha blinked at him as though he hadn't spoken out of term or spoken at all.
"--In the way that she took the matter of your departure into her own hands, loosely speaking, instead of having you report all concerns to me."
Vincent frowned upon hearing this. "Okay, fine. Here I am. You are aware that I just want the hell out of here, I'm sure. And I am well informed that I have to work out of my 'debts'. So what I really want to ask here is what do I have to do and when can I start?" He leaned forward in his chair eagerly. First chance he got, whether he was done with his shitty debt or not, he was out of there. Having him work outside would be a blessing.
Tabitha smiled tightly, much resembling Melodie's grin, and stood up to walk around the desk. She hamded him a paper as she spoke. "We're not so bad, Mr. Soretto. There us a total of twelve of us; including you, thirteen. To keep ourselves held together, we have a schedule. It's on that paper. You are assigned with group four for now." She motioned to the one in his hand and he glanced down at it. It was hand-written, of course. No way would they waste electricity on any sort of printer. It was easy to read though and put together in an organized fashion, of which he wasn't surprised.
Everyone woke up at 6:00 AM. There were different times to eat breakfast; however everyone ate lunch at the same time, etc. . . .
Vincent shook his head, not bothering to look over the rest of the paper. "There's no way I'm doing a schedule. No offense, but this stupid. I need to work faster than this gives time for." He looked up to watch Tabitha's expression. She kept calm and cool as usual.
"I suppose that's fine," she said after a moment of contemplation. "You can stay with me." One side of her mouth twisted up as she looked him in the eye and plucked the paper from his grasp. "But I'll let you know, it's anything but stupid. It keeps us organized and returns a little bit of normality in this world of death."
Vincent stood up from his seat making him almost two whole heads taller that Tabitha. It wasn't that she was short. Vincent was six-foot-four. Her head went up as he stood and then she headed toward the door, motioning for him to follow her.
. . . . . . . . . .
I'm going to try and update this every week, even though the only person reading this so far, at the moment I am writing, is my friend Sam. But anyway, if this maybe gets popular, I hope you like it. <3 I know this part is boring.
