[couch] 65.3 l His work and nothing more
[Woodrow, and_dontcallme, is mine to use freely. Occurs a day after THIS. All muses referred to with permission.]
Cross-posted to breakcityheart
[Courage is not the absence of fear but the knowledge that there is something more important than that fear.]
Flicking on the light, Devon pulled off his shoulder bag and set it down on the small futon. He brushed a few strands of hair back and sighed, his hand resting against the one arm. He half expected Celeste to be standing there, arms crossed, foot tapping. Why he had to come in on a Saturday he had no idea.
"You don't have any porn," a voice said, startling the young editor. If asked later on, Devon wouldn't have admitted to yelping - but that is what he did.
Devon swore he could hear the smirk his sound had elicited as he turned around. He recognized the man at his chair. He couldn't place his name but during Celeste's meeting of doom he hadn't paid attention to names. Just faces. The faces of his tired coworkers an the faces of their competition. Because, he had to face it. No matter how Devon colored it, they were competition.
"How did you get into my - porn?" he asked, his thoughts changing. "You're looking for porn?"
"I'm the administrator, now," the man answered simply. His suit was pressed and he wasn't looking up at Devon. He may not have been looking up, but he was looking down on him, Devon thought.
"The administrator?" Devon asked.
"Of the network. I was asked to go through files. Gather compromising information. You have neither." His voice was cool and without emotion.
"I don't have files," Devon questioned.
"You don't have questionable files, no. With most workers, you can find things in their internet history. Even if the history has been wiped. Including cookies. You hardly ever deviate from your work save for occasional visits to an online blogging forum."
"Your point?" Devon asked. He took a few steps in the direction of his desk, eying the other man.
"You're hard-working. You care about the publication. All good things," he said, Devon hearing a few more clicks.
"That's why you were brought in? To spy?"
"No. This is preliminary," he answered, finally standing up and taking a moment to button his suit jacket. Stepping around the desk, he extended his hand. "Woodrow," he said, a smile finally on his face that Devon could see. The editor shook his hand and nodded.
"You know my name," he said with a shrug.
"I do," Woodrow said, the handshake ending. Devon's gaze was now icy. "What?"
"I know why you all were brought in here. You're replacing people, aren't you? It's going to start out like this but a month down the road, Alex, me, maybe even Sam - we'll be out of jobs, won't we?" he asked.
"That is not mine to say," Woodrow said. "I can tell you that I was told to do just what I'm doing. Search through company and coworker files-"
"Spy," Devon interrupted, rounding his desk. He wanted his territory back. Ignoring Devon's comment, Woodrow continued.
"Oversee entertainment, your assignments and adjust as needed." He turned to face Devon as the other man took a seat. "I have no adjustments to make."
"No?" Devon asked, putting in his own password.
"No. You seem to be handling things well."
"I seem to be?" he asked.
"Only time will tell just how well you're handling things."
"Am I right? Is this the beginning of the end?"
"Again, I can't say. I can't say because I'm not aware. If I do become aware I will most likely-"
"Not say," Devon interjected.
"That isn't why I was hired."
"We're afraid," Devon said, pulling himself up to a standing position, his hands on his desk. "Most will kowtow to what Celeste and her flying monkeys want-"
"Flying monkeys?" Woodrow asked.
"You're new. You, Austin, even Savannah - you're all new. You're the new kids on the block and you don't have half the likability they did in the 90's." Woodrow remained unscathed, not showing an ounce of emotion. "Austin's the Alpaca. The office decided unanimously to call Savannah 'Georgia' for the time being and you're all Cel's flying monkeys."
"I haven't received a nickname, yet?"
"You don't talk. You observe, you spy, but you don't talk. In time there will be one. And then many."
Woodrow faltered - only a bit. It was a wince if Devon had ever seen one. Devon felt slightly proud and then instantly guilty.
"Celeste's agenda doesn't concern me. I was brought in to carry out a job. There is no vendetta, no secret conspiracy. Savannah hasn't the strength to hurt a fly..."
"You don't know Savannah very well, then," Devon shot back.
"At any rate, I have no qualms going toe to toe with the current entertainment editor." Devon pulled back, if only slightly. "That's right. Current, not former - I am not here to replace you at this point in time. I oversee. If you believe there to be a war, take up a sword and a shield but don't aim them at me."
"There isn't a war..."
"Maybe there isn't," Woodrow said. Devon watched as the other man walked towards the door to his office and turn.
"You're vague, you know that?"
"Happy fighting," Woodrow offered, a small smile forming.
Cross-posted to breakcityheart
[Courage is not the absence of fear but the knowledge that there is something more important than that fear.]
Flicking on the light, Devon pulled off his shoulder bag and set it down on the small futon. He brushed a few strands of hair back and sighed, his hand resting against the one arm. He half expected Celeste to be standing there, arms crossed, foot tapping. Why he had to come in on a Saturday he had no idea.
"You don't have any porn," a voice said, startling the young editor. If asked later on, Devon wouldn't have admitted to yelping - but that is what he did.
Devon swore he could hear the smirk his sound had elicited as he turned around. He recognized the man at his chair. He couldn't place his name but during Celeste's meeting of doom he hadn't paid attention to names. Just faces. The faces of his tired coworkers an the faces of their competition. Because, he had to face it. No matter how Devon colored it, they were competition.
"How did you get into my - porn?" he asked, his thoughts changing. "You're looking for porn?"
"I'm the administrator, now," the man answered simply. His suit was pressed and he wasn't looking up at Devon. He may not have been looking up, but he was looking down on him, Devon thought.
"The administrator?" Devon asked.
"Of the network. I was asked to go through files. Gather compromising information. You have neither." His voice was cool and without emotion.
"I don't have files," Devon questioned.
"You don't have questionable files, no. With most workers, you can find things in their internet history. Even if the history has been wiped. Including cookies. You hardly ever deviate from your work save for occasional visits to an online blogging forum."
"Your point?" Devon asked. He took a few steps in the direction of his desk, eying the other man.
"You're hard-working. You care about the publication. All good things," he said, Devon hearing a few more clicks.
"That's why you were brought in? To spy?"
"No. This is preliminary," he answered, finally standing up and taking a moment to button his suit jacket. Stepping around the desk, he extended his hand. "Woodrow," he said, a smile finally on his face that Devon could see. The editor shook his hand and nodded.
"You know my name," he said with a shrug.
"I do," Woodrow said, the handshake ending. Devon's gaze was now icy. "What?"
"I know why you all were brought in here. You're replacing people, aren't you? It's going to start out like this but a month down the road, Alex, me, maybe even Sam - we'll be out of jobs, won't we?" he asked.
"That is not mine to say," Woodrow said. "I can tell you that I was told to do just what I'm doing. Search through company and coworker files-"
"Spy," Devon interrupted, rounding his desk. He wanted his territory back. Ignoring Devon's comment, Woodrow continued.
"Oversee entertainment, your assignments and adjust as needed." He turned to face Devon as the other man took a seat. "I have no adjustments to make."
"No?" Devon asked, putting in his own password.
"No. You seem to be handling things well."
"I seem to be?" he asked.
"Only time will tell just how well you're handling things."
"Am I right? Is this the beginning of the end?"
"Again, I can't say. I can't say because I'm not aware. If I do become aware I will most likely-"
"Not say," Devon interjected.
"That isn't why I was hired."
"We're afraid," Devon said, pulling himself up to a standing position, his hands on his desk. "Most will kowtow to what Celeste and her flying monkeys want-"
"Flying monkeys?" Woodrow asked.
"You're new. You, Austin, even Savannah - you're all new. You're the new kids on the block and you don't have half the likability they did in the 90's." Woodrow remained unscathed, not showing an ounce of emotion. "Austin's the Alpaca. The office decided unanimously to call Savannah 'Georgia' for the time being and you're all Cel's flying monkeys."
"I haven't received a nickname, yet?"
"You don't talk. You observe, you spy, but you don't talk. In time there will be one. And then many."
Woodrow faltered - only a bit. It was a wince if Devon had ever seen one. Devon felt slightly proud and then instantly guilty.
"Celeste's agenda doesn't concern me. I was brought in to carry out a job. There is no vendetta, no secret conspiracy. Savannah hasn't the strength to hurt a fly..."
"You don't know Savannah very well, then," Devon shot back.
"At any rate, I have no qualms going toe to toe with the current entertainment editor." Devon pulled back, if only slightly. "That's right. Current, not former - I am not here to replace you at this point in time. I oversee. If you believe there to be a war, take up a sword and a shield but don't aim them at me."
"There isn't a war..."
"Maybe there isn't," Woodrow said. Devon watched as the other man walked towards the door to his office and turn.
"You're vague, you know that?"
"Happy fighting," Woodrow offered, a small smile forming.