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xp_logsMadin attends the Worthington Industry offices for a "job interview" as a "secretary" and it does not go well. At all.
Madin paused just outside the door to Warren's office and took a deep breath. They ran nervous hands down their clothes, tugging at the waistband of the borrowed skirt and smoothing the tie at the neck of their shirt.
The heels were awkward. Six inch heels never felt natural. They'd done this before, in Adelaide and sometimes between Underground stints. It was like riding a bike. Nothing to it.
Did rich people want fucked up shit?
They opened the door and walked in, wobbling slightly in the heels. "Hi Mr Worthington!"
Warren was mid-sit up when Madin walked in. It was a lull between work, and when he had as much energy as he did, sometimes it was easier to burn it off there. Not too much, as he didn't want to get sweaty, but enough that he could focus his thoughts. Because of that, he got a very up close view of the heels, and the wobbling as well. Looking up the legs, he remembered something vaguely about Madin coming by. Warren just didn't realize how purple the teen was.
"Hello there, Madin." He got up from the ground, and brushed off his pants. His shirt was rolled up to his elbows, and he had taken his tie off at some point along with his suit jacket. This was a business casual look that Warren wouldn't normally greet people with but this was an interview so there we go. "Quick questions: who designed your shoes and what is the style called? Follow up question: why didn't you practice wearing them before coming here?"
Jesus. He was starting early. Madin watched him get up off the floor in mild disbelief. "I have no idea who designed them. I borrowed them. You know, for... this. I have to give them back tonight actually, it's a whole fucking story. It's not important right now but." Stop talking. Stop talking. He said he had wings that time on the journals. I wonder how he's hiding them?
Warren sighed. "Look, man... child... youth... whatever you are. If you're going to sell yourself then really sell yourself. What's this stammering business? You stand up straight and tell me it doesn't matter, what matters is how you will rock it, do you hear me? I need someone to stand up to me, otherwise I go wild with power."
He crossed his arms and motioned to Madin. "Are you always this nervous? It's not your first time is it?"
"No." It sounded more like naur. "I've done this heaps. I'm here to secretary the fuck outta you." Madin took a few steps forward to trail one hand down Warren's chest before going for his belt buckle.
It took Warren a few moments before his eyes widened and he stumbled back as quickly as he could, slapping Madin's hands away. "Whoa there! Is this a set up? Did Hope put you up to this to see how I'd handle a sexual harassment situation? Or did Felicia tell you to do this and see what happens? Because let me assure you, I fuck my secretaries, they don't fuck me and it never happens at work. So cross that off your twisted sense of job duties."
"How the fuck is this a stitch up when you asked me to come in for an 'interview' as a 'secretary'? Secretary isn't a real job. Everyone knows that."
"What?" Warren squinted at Madin. "I'm sorry -- secretary isn't a real job? Who makes my reservations at restaurants? Who picks up my dry cleaning? Who tells people in a super nice way that I don't have an appointment with them when I definitely do? A secretary!"
"What." Madin shook their head. "I thought it was rich guy code for a hooker. You know, you're engaged. You can't just say that you've called a hooker in while you're at work.'
"What?!" Warren was incredulous. "I rarely pay for sex and if I did, it'd be with someone older." He shook his head. "I legitimately need a personal assistant that I want to pay 100 thousand a year. How is that a hard thing to find?"
"How was I supposed to know that?" Madin asked. "Give me literally one reason why I was supposed to know this was a real job where I get to keep my clothes on. For what it's worth, you're not my type unless there's like, money involved. No offence."
"Likewise. I like people to be a bit paler. With boobs." He cleared his throat. "So you're not wanting a job that doesn't include sex?"
"Jesus. You a bit transphobic as well as being a mutant closet case or something?" Madin snapped. "I mean, ah. Shit. I shouldn't have said that out loud. Fuck. "
"Transphobic? What?" Now he was confused. "Explain."
"The tits comment?"
"I don't care who has tits. Boys, girls, whatever. I just like them." He shook his head. "Look, I am VERY confused right now. I thought I was interviewing you for a job, not asking you to suck my dick. What do you want?"
"I don't know! I don't know how to do this shit. The only jobs I've ever had were jail jobs, or like sex shit or merc work and mostly we just shouted at people and hoped we didn't have to shoot anyone." Madin rubbed their eyes and one set of inexpertly fake lashes was slightly dislodged. "And now I can't fucking see either." That came out almost as a wail, embarrassment and stress combining.
Warren listened to Madin. "Well, no shooting in this job. My legal department would be so pissed off....do you need a moment to put yourself together?" He noticed finally how uncomfortable Madin was which was more than he usually would notice. It was just so goddamn apparent. Warren actually felt bad.
"I can wait and we can restart if you want."
"No. I think I'm going to go now. And pretend this never happened." Madin was already backing towards the door.
"I'll make sure to ask you for your name again next time," Warren grumbled.
Madin paused just outside the door to Warren's office and took a deep breath. They ran nervous hands down their clothes, tugging at the waistband of the borrowed skirt and smoothing the tie at the neck of their shirt.
The heels were awkward. Six inch heels never felt natural. They'd done this before, in Adelaide and sometimes between Underground stints. It was like riding a bike. Nothing to it.
Did rich people want fucked up shit?
They opened the door and walked in, wobbling slightly in the heels. "Hi Mr Worthington!"
Warren was mid-sit up when Madin walked in. It was a lull between work, and when he had as much energy as he did, sometimes it was easier to burn it off there. Not too much, as he didn't want to get sweaty, but enough that he could focus his thoughts. Because of that, he got a very up close view of the heels, and the wobbling as well. Looking up the legs, he remembered something vaguely about Madin coming by. Warren just didn't realize how purple the teen was.
"Hello there, Madin." He got up from the ground, and brushed off his pants. His shirt was rolled up to his elbows, and he had taken his tie off at some point along with his suit jacket. This was a business casual look that Warren wouldn't normally greet people with but this was an interview so there we go. "Quick questions: who designed your shoes and what is the style called? Follow up question: why didn't you practice wearing them before coming here?"
Jesus. He was starting early. Madin watched him get up off the floor in mild disbelief. "I have no idea who designed them. I borrowed them. You know, for... this. I have to give them back tonight actually, it's a whole fucking story. It's not important right now but." Stop talking. Stop talking. He said he had wings that time on the journals. I wonder how he's hiding them?
Warren sighed. "Look, man... child... youth... whatever you are. If you're going to sell yourself then really sell yourself. What's this stammering business? You stand up straight and tell me it doesn't matter, what matters is how you will rock it, do you hear me? I need someone to stand up to me, otherwise I go wild with power."
He crossed his arms and motioned to Madin. "Are you always this nervous? It's not your first time is it?"
"No." It sounded more like naur. "I've done this heaps. I'm here to secretary the fuck outta you." Madin took a few steps forward to trail one hand down Warren's chest before going for his belt buckle.
It took Warren a few moments before his eyes widened and he stumbled back as quickly as he could, slapping Madin's hands away. "Whoa there! Is this a set up? Did Hope put you up to this to see how I'd handle a sexual harassment situation? Or did Felicia tell you to do this and see what happens? Because let me assure you, I fuck my secretaries, they don't fuck me and it never happens at work. So cross that off your twisted sense of job duties."
"How the fuck is this a stitch up when you asked me to come in for an 'interview' as a 'secretary'? Secretary isn't a real job. Everyone knows that."
"What?" Warren squinted at Madin. "I'm sorry -- secretary isn't a real job? Who makes my reservations at restaurants? Who picks up my dry cleaning? Who tells people in a super nice way that I don't have an appointment with them when I definitely do? A secretary!"
"What." Madin shook their head. "I thought it was rich guy code for a hooker. You know, you're engaged. You can't just say that you've called a hooker in while you're at work.'
"What?!" Warren was incredulous. "I rarely pay for sex and if I did, it'd be with someone older." He shook his head. "I legitimately need a personal assistant that I want to pay 100 thousand a year. How is that a hard thing to find?"
"How was I supposed to know that?" Madin asked. "Give me literally one reason why I was supposed to know this was a real job where I get to keep my clothes on. For what it's worth, you're not my type unless there's like, money involved. No offence."
"Likewise. I like people to be a bit paler. With boobs." He cleared his throat. "So you're not wanting a job that doesn't include sex?"
"Jesus. You a bit transphobic as well as being a mutant closet case or something?" Madin snapped. "I mean, ah. Shit. I shouldn't have said that out loud. Fuck. "
"Transphobic? What?" Now he was confused. "Explain."
"The tits comment?"
"I don't care who has tits. Boys, girls, whatever. I just like them." He shook his head. "Look, I am VERY confused right now. I thought I was interviewing you for a job, not asking you to suck my dick. What do you want?"
"I don't know! I don't know how to do this shit. The only jobs I've ever had were jail jobs, or like sex shit or merc work and mostly we just shouted at people and hoped we didn't have to shoot anyone." Madin rubbed their eyes and one set of inexpertly fake lashes was slightly dislodged. "And now I can't fucking see either." That came out almost as a wail, embarrassment and stress combining.
Warren listened to Madin. "Well, no shooting in this job. My legal department would be so pissed off....do you need a moment to put yourself together?" He noticed finally how uncomfortable Madin was which was more than he usually would notice. It was just so goddamn apparent. Warren actually felt bad.
"I can wait and we can restart if you want."
"No. I think I'm going to go now. And pretend this never happened." Madin was already backing towards the door.
"I'll make sure to ask you for your name again next time," Warren grumbled.
