Deciding that Snow's face could offer little more information than his words, Lilith focused on recording the latter.
Appreciating her for volunteering, he nevertheless recommended her to talk the idea of alternate Wednesdays over with Professor Kay and asserted that he would not compel it regardless. While her main job entailed following him around, she was not obligated to stay beyond the official hours, which—as she had already known—were nine to six. With another Cyber lecture occupying a two-hour chunk after lunch on Thursdays, Lilith calculated her contributions to amount to five hours weekly; Snow's expectation had been six to eight.
"You'll learn better by doing as opposed to just watching or listening to me. With longer spells, we tend to get more chances," he explained. "But it's no matter. We'll work with what we have until the situation can be improved. Do note that we're not a school here, and life carries on despite term breaks. You are therefore highly encouraged to join us during this time.
"All in all, that should account for approximately thirty to fifty percent of your required hours, not that we have to be terribly precise on that front. The numbers the University has provided is merely a guideline to me. As long as you show that you're serious and produce the work I've assigned you accordingly, I won't nitpick on a couple of minutes.
"That said, this is a professional environment, and you've made a commitment. You will not go AWOL. Should anything crop up and you have to be late, leave early, or even absent yourself, please drop a message to Gaia—she will relay it to me. Am I clear?"
"As heaven's stars."
Then, realizing what she'd uttered, Lilith froze. It had been a phrase that used to hang on her mother's lips. As a child, Lilith had imitated it for amusement. Growing up, fancying its uniqueness and significance, she favoured it. Now, it was a matter of habit, so the response had slipped off her tongue instinctually. In a less formal setting, with friends or people her own age, the effect might not have been as pronounced. Presently, none of these criteria were met, and she was all too aware of how odd she'd sounded.
Peeking up from her notebook, she found Snow surveying her with cold puzzlement and quickly added, "Very clear, sir."
"Good." But his nod was curt, and the wariness did not leave his eyes as he continued, "Now, onto that project of yours. As I've shared yesterday, your proposal is one of those I'm endeavoring to implement during the next Games. Since it originated from you, it's only natural that you be put in charge."
When Snow paused, Lilith recognized it as her turn to speak.
"Will we get to bring in both stylists and mentors, then?"
"That is the intention," answered Snow. "But, ultimately, it depends on you. As project manager, you will be overseeing the entire process from start to finish. You will be the one responsible for developing and driving it. You will be key to its fruition."
The weight and magnitude of the task dawned on Lilith at once and she couldn't help feeling daunted. Apparently reading her alarm, Snow chuckled and displayed a smile she was so accustomed to associating with him—a warm, charming thing that seemed to be such a rarity in their private encounters. Not that it really comforted her.
"You don't have to look like that. You will have help," he reassured. "We have our own experts who can assist you on various fronts, but you'll have to coordinate the efforts and be involved in the conversation—even lead it. And of course, I will be overseeing you, making sure you stay on the right track. So there's nothing to worry about. Well, not yet anyway."
Now—this piece of honesty—that relieved Lilith, and she nodded. "All right. Thank you."
"Do you have any questions?"
Only about a million, but when Lilith failed to articulate even one, Snow, with a mildly intrigued air, remarked, "Well, I suppose that's the difference giftedness makes." And without the slightest delay, without allowing her time to wonder if she'd been ridiculed, or, indeed, to react: "In that case, I'd like to move onto your homework. Do you remember what I said during the interview?"
Lilith remembered everything he had said during the interview. Perhaps more distinctly than was necessary. Definitely much too distinctly for her liking.
"Which part exactly, sir?" she enquired.
"The part about the victors being mentors," replied Snow.
Cruising through her memory, Lilith said, "You wanted to know what's in it for them. You said the job description's something to think about. Basically, how can we motivate them into becoming mentors?"
"How can you motivate them into becoming mentors," corrected Snow with a smile. "So that's what I want you to think about. It's clear you don't mean to force them, and that's fine—I'll respect it. Which is why I want you to tell me how you're planning to convince the victors to take up this mantle willingly, as you've envisioned. That will be your first assignment. For your second—"
To one side of the documents Snow had arranged on his desk sat a fat manila folder. He lifted it and handed Lilith the parcel, which was hefty but pliant. Curious, she raised the flap, and through the gaping mouth a thick stack of stapled papers greeted her. Glimpsing the text on the first page despite the gloom within the pocket, she deduced what they were instantly.
"These are your classmates' proposals," said Snow, as Lilith had guessed. "I want you to go them through and, bearing in mind that the goal is to engage audiences in the districts, tell me which ones you'd implement and why, which ones can be improved on before they're worthy of implementation and how. I don't need you to write a report or anything. Just come in tomorrow with your thoughts and we'll discuss. That goes for both of your assignments."
As Lilith stared at him, he seemed, again, to have read her mind.
"It's tight, yes," admitted Snow, "but know that you're not being pressed for the sake of it. I just want to get a feel your thought processes before they can be convoluted by Friday's round-up. It would have been less rushed if I could have given this to you yesterday, but as it is, you'll just have to deal with it. Treat it as a lesson: having to bear the consequences of your own actions."
His tone had been thoroughly businesslike, and the mockery so subtle Lilith could have imagined it. She only nodded.
"If you've nothing else for me, I'd like to show you where you'll be working before you leave."
Normally, Lilith would have wiped down any finger prints she might have left on the metallic surface, but as it was, she didn't have time—she didn't seem to have time for anything anymore. The grip was a polished pink that matched the leather binding of her diary, connected to a transparent barrel, which was filled with neon pink rhinestones and topped with a large, decorative faux gem—also pink—shaped like a diamond. Hastily twisting her pen around its halfway mark where the closing mechanism was situated, Lilith slotted it into its designated holder at the side of her notebook, snapped the magnetic flap into place, chucked it into her bag, which she slung over one shoulder, and, hugging the bulky envelope, hurried after Snow.
But all her exertions felt stupid when Snow stopped not ten paces from his own door and gestured towards the vacant seat at the edge of the open area. Lilith couldn't say she'd noticed it before. Practically identical in terms of size and furnishings to its neighbors, the rectangular space hosted a lone mesh-back swivel chair tucked behind a white laminate-top table. Apart from the wireless charging pad it was equipped with (like those in the University's library), the latter was as bare as the drab, ash grey partitions surrounding it.
Another manner in which it differed from the others in the vicinity—or in fact the whole bullpen—was in its direction: instead of being positioned head-on to the partnering desk on the other side of the divider, hers faced the walkway. With her back to the person behind, where Lilith would sit granted her a rather unobstructed view of the Head Gamemaker's office, and she was soon apprised of the rationale for this non-conforming layout.
"This was Gaia's desk when Dr. Gaul was still Head Gamemaker and I was working over there," said Snow, inclining his head towards the waiting area Lilith was quite familiar with now. At the mention of her name, Gaia Penworth peered up from her computer and flashed Lilith a conspiratorial smile. "Now that I've given her a promotion, this will be yours for the next year. Should you need anything, or if anything isn't functioning right, do let Gaia know and she'll make the necessary arrangements."
"Yes, sir." Then Lilith bowed her head towards his assistant, who was nodding in the background. "Thank you, Gaia."
"Happy to be of service," said the older woman cheerily.
On the rest of the tour, Snow covered the conference room where Friday's round-up would be held, pointed out the corner in which the washrooms were located, and took her through the pantry. It wasn't anything like the one at home, but it had a coffee machine, a kettle, and a refrigerator that was stocked with juices and soft drinks—even ice cream. Lilith was advised to bring her own mug, but the snacks (boxes of crackers and shortbread) and beverages were courtesies of the organization's welfare and available to all employees.
"...which now includes you." Snow gazed at her kindly, and all of a sudden, she was struck how much it suited him, as if his way-above-average features were made for benevolent expressions. Thrusting out his hand, he said, "Welcome onboard, Lilith."
Deferentially, not sparing a second to ponder if her palm was icy—what was the point? It wasn't like she could do anything to rectify it now—she extended it and shook his. Hers was icy, but Snow still exhibited no hint that it bothered him.
"Thank you, sir."
"I'll walk to you the elevator."
There was a finality to Snow's voice that dispelled any refusal bubbling onto Lilith's lips, so she merely repeated her gratitude and strolled alongside him. It was a silent journey, but not an awkward one—not for Lilith, anyway, who was already neck-deep in remorse for having to cancel a second time in a row. At their destination, Snow pushed the call button for the lift and waited with her.
"Are you heading out for dinner?" he asked casually.
As Lilith looked up and saw him glancing at her outfit, her amazement began to wane. He could not have been telepathic. This man was not supernatural—just intelligent, with a keen sense of observation and excellent inference skills. To have identified her attire as dressy and conclude that she might have had further engagements would be a small feat for him. But he was lucky to be accurate, for chic ensembles were quite the daily affair for Lilith.
"I think I'm just going to go home, sir."
How else did she have a chance of getting through all the essays clutched in her arm? And conjure up a plan to persuade past victors of their mentor appointments? Doubtlessly, it was going to be another sleepless night...
"I hope I haven't ruined your dinner plans," said Snow.
"I suppose I'm the one who ruined my dinner plans," she mumbled, not resentfully, and not exactly sadly too. Her heart just felt so heavy—so heavy it seemed beyond resentment and sadness and so many other things. She sighed.
It was a moment before she became cognizant of his gaze, which was steady and possessed a peculiar quality. Snow seemed to be staring at her and through her all at once. The only reasoning she could devise was that he was figuring something out—her. Despite her increasing nervousness and self-consciousness that manifested as a skyrocketing pulse, something prevented Lilith from peeling her eyes away.
Time could have halted altogether for all she knew as they examined one another speechlessly and motionlessly, like a pair of marble sculptures. The fact of the matter, however, was that it had barely been seconds.
"Are you afraid of me?" asked Snow interestedly.
The bluntness threw Lilith, and it was several attempts later before she spluttered, "You're my boss."
His lips parted, but before he could make a sound, the elevator did: the car on the right opened with a ding and a quiet whoosh. Holding the door for her, Snow indicated for Lilith to enter but did not follow himself.
"Are you not leaving, sir?"
Everyone had. The only people still around were him, his assistant, and probably Laurentia Cardew, whom Lilith had not seen in person today but whose desk had sported a half-consumed can of soda that was still condensing and whose coat had draped over her chair.
"I've still got work to do," said Snow. "I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good night."
He was asking for a miracle, but Lilith nodded nonetheless.
"Good night, sir."
AN: Should I put asterisks on titles of chapters from Coryo's POV or do you guys prefer to be surprised? 😋