PURPLE ⇝ UNDER HEAVY EDITING

PURPLE [5] ✓

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Fuck. This.

"Please. Take a seat," Scott offered politely, waving a hand in the direction of a lonely chair in front of his wooden desk.

It was almost like I had a Spidey Sense of my own.

Alarms bells were ringing inside my head, every inch of my body willing me to turn around and leave this place, to forget every memory.

But the money...

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I pushed back any concerns I had and marched forwards, keeping my eyebrows furrowed as I nestled into the leather chair and glanced at Scott.

He was furiously tapping away at a small computer, the screen hidden from any prying eyes.

In other words, mine.

His soft eyes watched the screen intently, almost in a trance as his fingers worked the magic, brain ticking away.

For a second he stopped.

His pattern was disturbed and he sunk further into his seat, rubbing his tired eyes and wrenching around to face me.

"Y/n, so nice of us to finally meet," Scott forced a warm smile, setting his hands into the edge of the table and locking onto my e/c orbs, keeping me locked there.

"Same for you," I forced out, his welcoming yet sharp gaze sending a wave of despair to wash through my blood. Scott laced his fingers together and leant forward slightly.

"Taking up the night shift is ... challenging, I must say," Scott started.

Short and snappy.
Straight to the point.

"I have no doubt you will be able to accomplish the task successfully."

I let the small, genuine smile tug at the corner of my lips, body relaxing slightly. I could get used to Scott. "Thank you, sir."

"As problematic as is it," Scott continued, prying open a small drawer beside him and rummaged inside, "some paperwork has to be filled for the application."

My mind felt like screaming, but I managed to contain myself.

"Sure thing, sir" - Sir, ugh - "How many?"

Scott placed a couple of A4 sheets in front of me, all containing small, bold paragraph and boxes.
"Lucky for you, not a lot," Scott chuckled, passing me a black pen. Thanking quietly, I inwardly celebrated and plucked the pen out of his fingers.

Are you over 18 years old?
Ha, nope/yep!

Are you enrolling for another a second job at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza?
Uh, no.

Do you currently have a job?
No.

Any harm or endangerment to you will not be covered by Freddy Fazbear' Pizza. Do you agree?

My pen refused move. Harm or endangerment? Glancing up at Scott, I noticed he was staring at me with sunken eyes, his cold glare sending a shiver hurdling down my spine.