Fakely HIS

Chapter 4

H - You are insufferable, Dale Marissa Almonard.

D - I know right *wink face* Listen, I got to go. The big nosed dean is calling me in. I'll talk to you when I come home, yeah? Probably with a good news. I may get a planned holiday with attendance again. *Grinning* You go and get your interview with Mr. Hotpants over with and we can have a double celebration at home. Ciao!

This time, I didn't even bother to hide my amusement as I let out a series of chuckles, pressing my fingers to my eyes, making sure to not let the tears of mirth out. The sound of someone clearing their throat brought me out of my amusement and I glanced up to see the receptionist lady looking at me with a small smile.

I gave her a sheepish smile, biting my bottom lip, "I am sorry."

She nodded at me and smiled, telling me that it was okay, before she pointed to Nicholas' door, "Mr. Manhattan will see you now."

I nodded at her, standing up. Talking to Dale helped. I was still nervous, but not as anxious as before. I kept my phone inside my bag as I took out my file and made my way towards the room inside which I know Nicholas Manhattan was there.

I knocked at the door and pushed it open to reveal a huge room, with Nicholas Manhattan sitting in the middle where his table was placed at. There was a man standing next to his table, a bunch of papers clutched in his hands as he tried to explain something to Nicholas - probably some coding that he had developed.

Nicholas looked up at me as soon as I opened the door and nodded at me before looking back at the laptop in from of him, scrolling through whatever the man was showing him, "Come in, Miss. Dixon. Please, take a seat. I will be with you in a few minutes."

I nodded, even though he was not looking at me as I stepped inside the room, closing the door behind me. The man who had been standing next to Nicholas' table glanced up at me and then smiled politely when my eyes connected with his. I smiled back at him before walking towards Nicholas' table and sat down on one of the two chairs before him, looking around his room.

Like the outside of his room, the inside of his room was also colour coordinated. While the outside was grey, the inside was deep blue, with the walls painted in vertical stripes alternating between light blue and Royal blue. The table before me which without any doubt, belonged to Nicholas, was white in color with the chairs a royal blue. The table had a lot of files arranged on its sides with a bunch of paperwork left scattered over it.

The room was for the lack of better words, bare. There was a lot of open space in the room, unoccupied; if you don't consider the table where Nicholas sat and the couch closer to the window, that is. There was a potted Cactus behind the couch, on a small corner stand, closer to the window to give the plant as much sunlight as possible. It was not a look that I would go for my working place, but then again, Nicholas is not me.

Nicholas let out a sigh, pulling me out of my observation. I turned to look at him, only to see him looking up at the man who was standing by his side, "This was not what I was expecting, Mr. Cornwall," he shook his head at him, before pressing some buttons and projecting the code that was on the laptop onto the wall behind his seat, pointing at it, "This code has flexibility, it is good, but no it has too many lines. I think you should compose this. Not to mention, line eighty-seven is a very classic, common mistake, you have to check for the errors again too."

I took a look at the code behind Nicholas' wall and immediately grimaced. He was right; the program had too many lines for me to even comprehend what the code was about. Normally, programmers hoped to achieve a program's out in as little number of lines as possible, but I guess this Cornwall guy threw that thought to wind.