Gilded Chaos

Deplorable

The blood drains from my face, I can practically hear its cowardly retreat.

"Panda? I'm sorry, we don't serve Pandas or any sort of livestock, save for whatever comes from the beasts. I hear the restaurant down the street has a number of so-called delicacies, just check with the resident chef; he goes by the name of Bronx", I tell him with a poker face.

He simply raises an eyebrow and continues speaking as though he hadn't momentarily pulled out the world from beneath my feet. I'm both grateful and annoyed.

"Is Murphy here? I'd like to speak with him", his cold gaze unwavering.

I scowl at his deplorable manners. Bloody pompous arse.

"No Murphy here, maybe you should check the chop shop two stores down. They serve cold cut pieces of rotten meat just like y-"

"Pan! Let the man in to see me, will you?"

"Yes, Mr Murphy. This way, sir"

Giving him a poisonously sweet smile- definitely not the customer-friendly kind-  I lead him into the workshop. Mr Murphy never invites customers in here, so I'm a little more attentive to our new visitor. No, not because of whatever he's got going on with his... Everything.

Walking to my little cubicle- or working area, more like- a few meters away from the table Mr Murphy and the stranger are seated at, I get back to work with constructing the gears of car wheels. I'd rather have as little to do with Mr Hello Pandora over there as possible.

Bloody Holber. He's made the gears a bit too small again. The ring and the gears need to be in contact at two points at all times, otherwise, the passengers will be in for a bumpier ride than usual. He should've adjusted the circumference of the ring by half a millimetre, at least, and-...

My thoughts are cut short when I hear my name murmured in the direction of the guest and my employer. I try to ignore the pair as they continue to converse under their breaths, seemingly with increasing urgency.

I concentrate on my work once more, trying to drown out their mostly-incoherent conversation until they mention my name four more times.

I swivel on my stool to face the pair.

"Would you gentlemen care to tell me where I may be of service other than in your conversation?" I ask with a strained smile.

My employer rolls his eyes, which is quite a sight for a man of his age, and Mr Panda narrows his eyes at me, giving me an intense stare I'm not all too comfortable with.

To my surprise, our unpleasant guest replies to my reasonably pleasant question.

"Good question. You may be of service to me in the Amazon in a week's time. Congratulations, you just got hired."

A lot of mysterious people with their names an even bigger mystery yet. I feel an incessant need to expand on the lives of every single character because of the potential. I must control my urges, though.

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