I'm still giggling to myself about "cockwombles" as I enter the room, I just cannot help myself, but he effectively wipes the grin of my face first thing he does.
"What the hell are you laughing at?" he lashes out.
Kind of a rude way to greet someone you have never met before, but he says it with such authority that even though it annoys me like hell, I find myself answering, truthfully;
"Cockwombles, Sir."
'Sir'? Where did that come from? I do not remember ever calling anyone 'Sir' but his voice reminds me of one of those army movies where officers keep screaming at some poor privates crawling around in the mud. I'm so close to laughing again but it does not seem recommendable, so I try to hold back. Apparently, a smirk still makes it to my lips unintentionally.
"What's so fucking hilarious?"
I wonder if all posh twats swear this much, it does not suit his appearance well, but I do not ask. Instead I tell him, again, what I was thinking.
"Sorry, S..., Mr. James (so close I said 'Sir' again!) it's just that your voice reminds me of one of those films where a grim officer is shouting at some sad wankers."
He looks at me sharply, or rather drills his brown eyes into me like he thinks he can see my soul. I'm quite confident he cannot, but it still makes me a bit uncomfortable.
"Are you mocking me?" he snaps. "Do you know what I do for a living?"
"No." By the look of this house I would have thought he does not have to lift a finger to 'earn his living'.
Maybe because I have been frank before, he accepts my answer as the truth, sinks back in his wheelchair and relaxes slightly, then says to himself rather than me and with a gesture to his legs;
"What I did before this anyway..." He sighs but does not offer any further details, leaving me curious.
The blonde interview woman has already made an exit. I assume she expects that I too will be lobbed out of the room soon and she has probably retracted in search for more candidates. Hah! Good luck with that!
I sit down on a chair, seemingly an antique one which is too hard to be comfortable. I will probably not stay long anyway.
"I don't remember asking you to sit down" he says flatly.
"Neither do I, but as it is common courtesy I assumed it must just have slipped your mind. And I thought it would be nice to be on your level rather than looking down on you."
His eyes wander over my face, searchingly, as if to check whether I'm trying to be cheeky or not. He accurately decides I'm sincere and let it pass. He shifts his gaze to look out the window, for a moment it almost seems like he is forgetting I'm there.
Now, I take the opportunity to take a first real peek at him. His voice is impressive and so is he, even if he is a bit thin and bound to a wheelchair, which I immediately can tell that he hates. Now that we both are seated he is obviously taller than me but it is difficult to judge exactly how tall he would be standing up. He has a beautiful face despite that it seems to be frozen in a hard expression, blank of any other emotions than irritation, anger and arrogance. He has a crease between his brows and despite that he is young I get the feeling it is pretty permanent these days. His features are symmetric, sharp, chiseled one could say, which is even more apparent because he is thin. He has amazing brown eyes and the head is topped with thick, curly dark hair which could do with a trim to look well-groomed. If he looked a bit friendlier, or even put on a smile, he would probably be extremely handsome. Suddenly I feel a need to be the one to provoke a laugh from him, to make him look less stern, but judging from the first impression that would be difficult, bordering to mission impossible.
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A Suitable Companion
FanfictionCaptain Charles James is wheel-chair bound after an accident during a military training exercise and reluctantly seeks assistance. Molly Dawes is a bit lost in life and despite that she is not looking for a job she suddenly finds herself employed by...