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One of the first things Jon did after he’d been given the promotion to Head Archivist (after expressing shock and disbelief, after having to be convinced that yes, this wasn't a joke, Jon) was pick his assistants. Tim and Sasha. Two familiar, dependable, trustworthy faces from the research department. It had scarcely required any thought at all.
One of the first things Elias had done after giving Jon the promotion to Head Archivist was to foist off two additional unasked for assistants off on him, because just two apparently weren’t enough.
The first one is Martin Blackwood, a bumbling, inexperienced former librarian who somehow managed to set a dog loose on the Archives his very first day. It was, if nothing else, a strong indicator of his future performance.
The second one is… actually, Jon has no idea who this is. Martin at least had been a known face, someone he could vaguely remember seeing in the library now and then whenever he had to come up for references. This man, however? Jon would remember having seen him before.
The man Jon finds sitting at one of the desks down in the Archives upon coming into work on Tuesday morning is entirely unfamiliar, and looks like he has no business existing within a mile of an academic institution in the first place. For lack of interest, if nothing else. He has long black hair, with blond roots clearly showing at his scalp. Chipped black nail polish, ragged black jeans, half a dozen cheap bracelets and necklaces carelessly tossed on, and steel toed combat boots. Smudged eyeliner that looks a day old, at least.
He looks like the sort of person that Jon would have a smoke with outside of a pub at night back in uni, he can’t help but think. Then he catches himself, and he frowns. He’s not at uni any longer, and this is most certainly not a pub. Jon has to be professional, and so do his assistants.
“And who exactly are you?” he demands waspishly, as if he is fully within his rights to be here, and it is this other man who is infringing upon his territory. Jon is within his rights to be here-- it just doesn’t feel like it. Maybe if he acts entitled enough of the space, no one else will notice how much he feels like an intruder here.
The man looks away from the imposing amount of files, papers, and books that have been spread across the desk to give him a piercing look. He seems to evaluate him for a long moment--a long moment in which Jon feels terrifyingly judged-- and then turns back to the highly involved mess on his desk.
“Gerard Keay,” the man says simply. “Ask Bouchard, I’m supposed to be here.”
Ah. So this is indeed the prodigal fourth assistant.
“And where were you yesterday, then?” he asks. Even Martin had had the grace to arrive on the right day.
“Taking care of business,” Gerard says flatly, turning back to his unassigned work. “Needed to wrap some things up before I came here.”
Jon’s curiosity can’t help but be drawn by that.
“Are you a new hire?” he asks suspiciously. He could, perhaps, be a transfer from the Usher Foundation, although the accent--
“You could say that.” Gerard doesn’t bother to look up from his books as he answers him. Jon feels himself bristle defensively. Martin at least has the grace to act nervous and apologetic around him, as grating as that can get. This Gerard Keay seems to have dismissed him utterly right from the get go.
“I’m the Head Archivist,” he says, in case Gerard had somehow missed this. “Jonathan Sims.”
That, at least, makes Gerard look up again.
“My condolences,” he says, and he doesn’t even sound sarcastic as he does so. He sounds sincere.
Jon scowls.
“And how did you manage to become an archival assistant here?” he asks pointedly. He’s noticed by now that the man is covered in tattoos-- stylized eyes on the knuckles of his hands, on his throat. Jon has a tattoo himself, but he’d made sure to get it somewhere he could cover it up with clothes. He’s not an idiot. It annoys him somehow, that Gerard hadn’t been that cautious himself, but had still managed to get a job at the Magnus Institute.
“Threats and blackmail,” he says matter of factly, his expression flat. It manages to surprise a snort out of Jon, which makes Gerard smirk slightly, pleased with himself. Jon clears his throat and hurries to smooth his expression back out into something stern and mature. He feels terribly like he’d just let an important mask slip for a moment, there.
He really can’t imagine the sort of terrible dark secrets that Elias Bouchard might have that could be used against him. Perhaps he jaywalked once, or accidentally misfiled some paperwork.
“Tim will like you,” Jon grants. Not that that says much. Tim likes most people. Most people like Tim. He looks at the considerable amount of statements and follow ups and who knows what else spread across Gerard’s desk. Is that a blueprint of London’s sewage system? “What the devil are you working on?”
“The Unknowing,” he says.
“What?” Jon asks.
“... Don’t worry about it. You’ll figure it out later.”
With that, Gerard turns back to his work once more, ignoring Jon again. Jon can’t help but feel like a kid who just asked where babies come from, and was given a dismissive pat on the head and a you’ll know when you’re older instead of an explanation.
He hadn’t been able to imagine that his fourth assistant could possibly be worse than Martin Blackwood, but at least Martin hadn’t made him feel like a child.
“I didn’t assign you that work,” he says, drawing himself up to his full height. He needs every last inch he can get. “I’ll find something else for you to--”
“No.” Gerard unconcernedly turns over a page in one of the books as he outright refuses Jon.
“Excuse me?” Jon asks.
“I know what I should spend my time on better than you.” He doesn’t sound hostile, condescending or insulting as he says this. He says it like it is an objective fact, which is worse.
“I am your boss,” Jon says, feeling-- he should be outraged. Mostly, he just feels panicky. Like he’s having one of those nightmares he’s been having ever since the promotion, where everyone realizes all at once that he doesn’t deserve this, that he’s not ready.
“Tough,” Gerard says.
Jon grits his teeth. Martin hadn’t outright decided to disobey him either. He just did so poorly.
“I will be speaking with Elias about this,” he threatens. That will have to get him to back off, won’t it?
“Good luck,” Gerard says lightly, unmoved. “Doubt you’ve got better blackmail than me, though.”
For lack of any better response, Jon storms off into his office.
Elias has assigned him two extra assistants against his will. One is Martin Blackwood, an annoyingly eager to please cardigan wearing librarian. Another is Gerard Keay, a tattooed goth who leaves and goes as he pleases and whose previous work experience Jon has zero knowledge of.
They couldn’t be more dissimilar, and yet Jon has no idea which one of them he dislikes more. He knows one thing though, and it’s the most important fact of them all:
Elias refuses to transfer or fire either of them. For better or worse, Jon is stuck with them for the foreseeable future.
He’s certain that they will contribute nothing but delays, the both of them.
