Melting the Devil

So Great

With Cantaloupe gone for the afternoon, Tin is accompanied by Prem to the rest of his meetings. It's the first time since he'd come back from Paris that Prem takes up the mantle of assistant by himself, without any of Cantaloupe's herding, which makes it that much more impressive when he greets everyone by name, attentively takes down minutes, and gives valuable suggestion whenever Tin prompts him. He's not exactly sure how much of it is thanks to Cantaloupe's training, but in any case, Prem is a natural—Tin ought to send his former boss a gift basket for being stupid enough to let him go.

There's just something refreshing about Prem's demeanor. Watching him interact with people turns out to be quite amusing; people are always surprised by how enthusiastic he is, but they're never put off by it—they find it endearing.

(Tin does, too.)

It's funny: a few years ago, Tin found Cantaloupe's friendliness irritating—how does he manage to be so nice to everyone? Eventually, he'd been able to identify his annoyance as mere envy, and now... Well, now he can readily admit it's more of an admiration. It's the same regard that transfers on to Prem and his easy way of conversation.

The final meeting of the day ends much earlier than expected—one of the rare times everyone actually came prepared enough that they were able to answer most of Tin's questions without any further probing—and so Tin suddenly finds himself with an hour of free time as he waits for Cantaloupe to come back.

"You were amazing today, sir!" Prem gushes excitedly as they walk back to the elevator.

Tin fights the urge to smile, instead opting for a quick nod. Can't be too forthcoming this early. "You, too, Prem."

Prem directs a bright grin at him. "Thank you! I had a great coach!"

Ah, shit. So much for not smiling. "That you did," Tin agrees. He lowers his voice to a faux-whisper and says, "Don't tell Cantaloupe, but you're already much better than he was three weeks in."

Prem gasps loudly. "No."

"Oh yeah."

"But... but Cantaloupe's so great!"

"Eh, he had a rough start," Tin chuckles fondly. "You've got some big shoes to fill, Prem. You up for the challenge?" He turns to face him when they reach his office.

Prem raises a hand in a salute. "Sir, yes, sir!"

"Good," Tin says, checking the time. "Ah—since we're done for the day, why don't you clock out early, eh? Get some rest."

Prem's eyes widen. "Oh, no, it's okay, sir. I can stay!"

"No, no, I insist," Tin says, waving him off. "Don't get used to it, though."

Prem shakes his head. "Of course not, sir!" He turns to pick up his backpack, but then straightens up again. "Thank you, sir!"

Tin huffs a laugh. "Okay, Prem."

Prem calls out another string of thank yous as he brisk-walks away, as if he expects Tin to retract his offer at any second, and then Tin is alone, still lingering by Cantaloupe's—Prem's?—desk.

He surveys it absentmindedly, noticing for the first time how bare it is now. Tin knows that Cantaloupe started packing up earlier that week, but it's just now that the table is devoid of any personality that he's really noticing how Cantaloupe had really taken advantage of the space that he occupied—the color-coded sticky notes are gone, and so are the multi-colored highlighters and the small pride flag that stuck out of his pen holder. Even the inexplicable lingering smell of vanilla has faded into the generic diffuser scent they use for the whole office.