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Manager Pizzicato wasn’t positive what he should have been expecting when lovely Angela with the brightest eyes handed him the keys to the architecture department. But it wasn’t this.
He was greeted with a warm office, walls painted red, full of comfortable, plush chairs and couches for both its owner and visitors. The logo designed for this very facility hung on the wall in the form of a glowing sign. Not neon - something stronger, more resilient, and far more classy than that. Pizzicato wasn’t sure what it was called, but Ayin certainly went all out when it came to this wing of the facility.
A sharply dressed man with perfectly manicured nails and a well-groomed beard smiled at him - he was standing right there, leaning slightly on a cane. It was, of course, custom-tailored to his height.
He had been waiting for some time, now.
“We’ve finally met,” he said in a low, smooth baritone, “After taking such a long detour…”
Pizzicato barely even noticed what had happened - but a deadpan phrase, “I’m leaving now” slipped off his tongue and he spun on his heels to lock the door to this accursed place behind him. Never, ever to look back. Surely there was another way to proceed with the process of healing.
But the strange man let out a joyless laugh, a harsh exhale, and he said, “No - trust me, I understand exactly what you must be feeling right now. But if you’ll be so kind as to hear me out…”
“No. You’re a wicked man, and I’ll hear nothing you have to say,” said Pizzicato, fumbling with the key ring in his hands. “I hate you.”
“You hate me,” the man said. “I can definitely understand that. It’s perfectly natural in your situation. My name is Abel. Can I have your name, son?”
“Your name is Abel?” Pizzicato raised his head, pointing a wide-eyed, hungry gaze towards the man. “Then I will be Cain. Would you still like to talk with me, or may I eat you, now?”
“Eat me?” Abel chuckled again, resting one hand in his pocket. “That’s… About what I’d expected. But please - sit down, first. You and I both know that you aren’t going to turn back, now. And I think you and I both know that there’s no way forward but here. This office. This department.”
… Pizzicato found some small difficulty in meeting Abel’s gaze. He had eyes just like Angela’s. They poked at his heart in ways he wasn’t used to, they made him weak. He put the key ring back in his pocket, sighing softly through his nose.
“No one ever said it would be easy,” said Abel. “Come on, now. Be a good boy and sit.”
Pizzicato couldn’t bear to look into those eyes anymore. His gaze fell to the floor, and he slowly walked to the couch next to what he could assume was Abel’s desk. And he sat, letting out a soft groan.
It scared him, how loudly his knees cracked underneath him.
“I’m tired, Abel,” he said, head leaning back on the cushion. “It’s tiring work, undoing what you did.”
“Yeah. I hear that a lot,” Abel said as he sat beside the newest manager. “You know, you remind me of someone I know very well.”
“Please don’t.” Pizzicato knew he didn’t want to be compared to anyone who was complicit in Ayin’s carnival of absolute shit.
“Yeah. Another guy working here, we call’im Abram,” Abel said, closing his eyes for a moment. “He’s got that same look in his eyes. Exhausted… Broken.”
“Abram. And I suppose this is just another person Ayin gave birth to, with a name like that?”
“We stopped with the A names a while ago, you might notice. Seemed almost like a curse.” Abel tightened his tie a bit, clearing his throat. “I’m sure you can imagine.”
Pizzicato sensed the migraine he would have a good 20 minutes from now. His eyes strained, even though he knew that would make it worse. His eyes strained until the ceiling split in two misty halves, overlapping each other.
“You’ve got a lovely office,” he said, praying Abel wouldn’t take that as a serious comment.
“Hah. Well. You’ve got to have some sort of comforting place to call home. We spared no expenses in preparing this space, just for you. Trust me, you’ll need it. You know that this is where the real work begins, right?” Abel glanced over at Ayin’s newest creation, in a way that couldn’t be described as unkind.
The idea that the work until now hasn’t been ‘real’ shook Pizzicato’s very soul.
“… Abel. Has anyone made it this far before?”
Abel smiled. “No. This office has never been used before. Not since this all began.”
That made Pizzicato’s shoulders relax a bit, his jaw loosen. At the very least, this effort was exceptional. He had assumed it was, from the way Hokma desperately tried to keep him from this floor, but he wanted to know for sure. He closed his eyes, breathing in slowly… Holding it… And sighing, shakily.
“… You feel lost,” Abel said. “This is completely uncharted territory.”
“Don’t condescend to me,” Pizzicato muttered. “Anything but that.”
“No. Listen to me,” Abel turned in his seat towards Pizzicato, face gravely serious. “You haven’t received any sort of comfort or encouragement from any of the Sephirot.”
Pizzicato felt his throat tighten, but he still spoke even though it hurt.
“It doesn’t matter. They don’t have to give me anything like that. It’s my job to forge on, no matter what.”
“I’m not saying they have to. I’m saying - at this point, you’re only hurting your cause if you think you can handle this all alone.” Abel took Pizzicato’s hand in his own, squeezing it - and Pizzicato didn’t have the energy to resist him.
“Don’t… Don’t do this to me. Not now,” said Pizzicato, now sounding much more mouse than man as his face began to crumple at the sudden gesture of care. “I can do it, if I just. I can do it. Please. Let me do it. I don’t need this.”
“I know about your arm, and what you’ve been doing to it,” said Abel, and then Pizzicato’s heart stopped.
He stared up at the ceiling, pursing his lips tightly. He was so careful. He only marked his arm with each core suppression in absolute privacy. But was there such a thing in a place like this? Angela was always watching. Oh god, did she know?
Pizzicato looked at Abel, only with his eyes. The rest of his body was petrified.
“… It… I-I… I’m entitled my own way of dealing with this, aren’t I?”
Abel’s face tightened. It was hard to tell if he was smiling or frowning.
“It doesn’t make it better. But in some way, it quiets the screaming in your head. At least enough for you to get some sleep every night.”
“I-I don’t… Y. I d. I don’t see what about any of that. Matters. I have a job to do.”
“We gave you a job no one could do. Not even one of us. And for that, I’m truly sorry.”
… Pizzicato began wiping at his eyes with his sleeve. He tried just to do it once, but the tears wouldn’t stop, no matter how stupid he felt for crying.