Wanted Ad

2018-10-07 16:44:20,
2018-10-07 16:44:42
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Before the Interviews

 Arnett was sitting at a loan desk inside a warehouse when Cyndelle Nosilla walked in. The desk had some papers strewn out in front of it, a mug with some liquid inside of it, a candle, unlit, a box half empty of cigarettes and some matches next to it. On a perch an owl swiveled its head to get a look at her, but lazily closed one of its eyes when it had lost interest. An empty chair sat across from the desk, waiting to be filled. Arnett sat in his own chair.

 He did not look up from his papers as she approached. He was reading something and fiddling with a quill.

 “I will be with you in a moment,” said Arnett, “All applicants are to wait outside until called for. The sign was clear enough.”

 “Was that your handwriting on that sign? Because that was atrocious,” said Cyndelle, her voice sparking a smile from Arnett who looked up from his papers.

 “Well, well, The search is off,” said Arnett, “Can I believe my eyes? I mean, there are other candidates, Cyndi, but I can’t imagine any of them stacking up to you.”

 “In your dreams, Lieutenant,” she said, taking a stance behind the empty chair and leaning against it, “I just saw the ad in the paper and couldn’t believe my eyes. An ad? In the papers? Are you out of your mind, Joel?”

 “Hey, only the best and brightest can read,” said Arnett, “And I think it is about time. Besides, must’ve been some article to catch a fish like you. Tell me: What brings you down here really?”

  “Really? Captain wanted to headhunt your perspective pool of deckhands and see if any diamonds showed up.”

 Arnett slammed his hand down on the table, standing to his full height, “That rotten slimeball. I should have-”

 “Easy there, hot head. Don’t blow a gasket,” smiled Cyndelle, walking over and petting the owl to calm it down from its startle, “Zhao wouldn’t come to see you fail. I came to see what kind of sorry soul would answer a wanted ad like this?”

 “Is it really that bad?” said Arnett, “Can’t be.”

 “You’re asking for the type of job that are done by people who truly don’t buy newspapers in the first place. It’s a weird market to be looking in and it shows out there.”

 “So interesting sorts?” smiled Arnett.

 “There are some sorts…” said Cyndelle.

 “Bah, so they are a little off. I’m sure they’ll do,” said Arnett, “I meant, can’t be better than the best mechanic in the Istoki but…”

 “But I am not interested,” said Cyndelle, “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

 After a brief pause, Arnett continued, “I think I got this, thank you.”

 “Fine,” said Cyndelle, throwing her hands in the air, “Good luck with it then. Try not to get anyone killed.”

 “No promises,” said Arnett, sitting in the chair, “It is the desert, after all.”

 Cyndelle rolled her eyes and headed back for the door, “I just don’t want you killing anymore people!”

 “Hey, they were trying to kill me first!” yelled back Arnett, who watched her leave and mumbled under his breath, “For both our sakes, I hope no one else dies because of me.”

 Arnett looked at his papers again, letting out a long sigh. After a moment, he stole a peak at Owlexander, peeking down at him from his perch.

 “You ready, buddy?” said Arnett, “It’s gonna get weird.”