Headache || Wriothesley

3

Y/n made her way to her work station, where she was apparently assigned to work on making gears for... clocks? She wasn't really sure what exactly she was doing but it was better than nothing. She had a long way to go before gaining the full trust of the convicts and working was part of blending in. 

As Y/n sat down at the desk, a loud bang startled her, causing her to jump. She whirled around, her heart racing, and saw the tall woman from before standing in front of her, a wide grin on her face.

"So, you're the new girl," the woman said, her voice deep and menacing. "I heard you caused quite a stir in the cafeteria earlier."

Y/n frowned, narrowing her eyes. "What's it to you? Are you the local gossip monger?"

The woman chuckled, "Nah, I'm more of the welcoming committee. And if you want to fit in here, you'll have to get past me."

Y/n smirked, "And what makes you the gatekeeper?"

"Because I've been here longer than The Duke's under eye scar."

Y/n rolled her eyes and turned back to her work. She wasn't interested in whatever power struggle this woman was trying to initiate.

"Look here, newbie," the woman continued, "I don't know who you think you are but around here, we have a strict hierarchy. You're at the bottom of the food chain, and if you want to survive, you'd better learn how things work."

Without looking up from her work, Y/n retorted, "Thanks for the advice. I'll be sure to add 'Surviving Prison 101' to my bedtime reading list."

The woman paused, taken aback by Y/n's retort. A slow smile spread across her face as she leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well, aren't you a sharp one?" she remarked, her tone laced with newfound respect. "Keep that wit about you, kid. It might just be your saving grace in this place."

She paused, giving Y/n a pointed look before adding, "And as for 'Surviving Prison 101', make sure you read the chapter on respecting your elders. It might come in handy."

With that, she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving Y/n to her work and thoughts. 

The gears lay scattered on the table, gleaming under the harsh light like a metallic jigsaw puzzle from hell. She picked up a small screw and a gear, her fingers trembling slightly as she tried to fit the screw into the tiny hole.

The screw, playing hard to get, slipped from her grasp and rolled away. "Great," she muttered, "even inanimate objects are giving me the cold shoulder."

She let out a sigh of frustration, her brows furrowing in concentration. She tried again, holding her breath as she guided the screw into the gear. But her hands had apparently signed up for salsa lessons without her knowledge, and the screw slipped again.

She could feel a bead of sweat trickling down her forehead, her heart pounding in her chest. The simple act of screwing a gear had turned into a monumental task. She glanced around, hoping no one had noticed her struggle.

Taking a deep breath, she picked up the screw once more. This time, she steadied her hand, focusing all her attention on the tiny piece of metal. "Alright screw," she whispered, "let's do this." Slowly, carefully, she guided the screw into the gear. A small smile tugged at her lips as she felt it fit into place.

"That wasn't so bad, now was it?" she asked the screw, a sense of accomplishment washing over her.

"Y/n."

Y/n glanced up, her eyebrows raised. Wriothesley was standing before her, his arms crossed. He had a stern expression on his face, which was unusual.

"Yes?" she asked, trying to sound as innocent as possible.