Work Text:
“You have an impressive amount of spit.” The suit doing Gideon’s drug test pressed her mouth swap into a little cup and wrinkled his nose when it squelched a little bit.
“Thank you,” Gideon said. She wasn’t sure if that was the right response, but the man’s “I really wish I were dead right now” expression softened a little bit.
The first thing Gideon noticed about the accounting office was that instead of photos of children, inspirational quotes, or cutout pages from Cohorts Illustrated, the two accountants had framed pictures of each other and a poster depicting “The Wonders of the Lymphatic System.” Both the male and female accountants wore grey shirts with grey ties, giving the impression of having been ordered as a set from Depressing Office Furniture Catalogue. She figured they were about her same age.
“After we finish your onboarding paperwork you can meet some of the other necros in the office today. Judith Deuteros is our outside sales manager. You’ve already met Coronabeth and Ianthe Tridentarius from Human Resources. I think Harrowhark Nonagesimus from Human Remains Resources is here as well,” he explained.
“I saw her earlier at coffee,” the other accountant offered.
As the indicator on the drug test started to change color, the guy doing her test arched an eyebrow. “Were you aware you had a drug test this morning?” he asked.
“They told me ahead of time, yeah,” Gideon said.
“Very good. Follow up question. Do you know what a drug test is? These two bars mean that you failed it.”
Gideon picked up the instructions for the drug test. He was right. “Pot doesn’t count, does it?”
The accountant tilted his head and put his chin on the back of his hands. “I love the people they hire here. Yes, pot counts. Whatever.”
He dropped the drug test unceremoniously into the desk trash. Gideon wasn’t sure she wanted these people to have access to her DNA, but she couldn’t ask for it back now. The other accountant, very obviously pressing random buttons on her keyboard and eavesdropping, hid behind her monitor to laugh.
Gideon picked up one of the business cards on the desk, which pictured a smiling ghoul that only barely resembled the desk’s owner. “Cool name. You must have had a hell of a childhood.”
“Fascinating stuff, the things you say. I would love to dissect your brain,” he said, by way of answer. He held eye contact with Gideon for a moment, which was scary, and laughed.
The other accountant pointed to a shelf that contained, yep, a brain in a jar. These people definitely worked for Dominicus Necromantic Solutions . “You see that? That was the last receptionist. The one you replaced.”
“No, it wasn’t,” her partner scoffed. He tapped straight a bundle of papers and handed them to Gideon.
She had been in the office for less than an hour and was already deeply regretting this job.