Unfortunately for Frank, Kyle the server guru was both an asshole and extremely good at his job. Meaning he could not be fired, no matter what he did or said, and so he did and said whatever he wanted.
That left people who dealt with Kyle on the daily just--needing a minute, once in a while, to take in some air. To take a walk, and think about murder while grabbing some water, contemplating the paper cup and literally getting a grip: not crushing it, just observing, steadying their hands.
Because omegas who lashed out were emotional and difficult to work with. And nice nails was in fact a compliment! Just not from Kyle.
Clu--Clark--marched to the water cooler on autopilot, shoved the lever down like it stole something, and inhaled a full cup with zero situational awareness. He took a deep, steadying breath. And blinked at sudden motion in his peripheral vision: somebody trying very hard to not be seen, and thereby making themselves more visible. This one looked more than half-ready to run straight past him.
Oh, hey! He knew this guy. Knew about him, anyway. He'd seen him before, usually with the cart, always attended by the faint, pleasant chemical smell of random cleaners. He did the windows, and similar tasks--quiet, calm, very efficient.
Right now he was shaking, flat out, like a leaf in a storm, shoulders hitching with his breath as he palmed out a truly monstrous number of familiar pills. The big white ones with a dark blue notch where you were supposed to cut them in half.
He had a fistful ready, uncut, and looked like he'd choke them down dry rather than dare approach the water cooler or ask Clark to move. Clark, who most figured was an alpha at first. He had shoulders. He took up room. Encroaching love handles had somehow only made him more rectangular.
He had nice nails and a wedding band and he was doing the hum, low and steady, almost subvocal. The deep one Beth had teased him about, when she was full of what had turned out to be twins, laughing and letting him feel her belly.
Letting him purr, she'd called it. Flatly omega crooning. Weird instinct, at a weird time, for no reason he could identify.
Clu cleared his throat, pressed his tongue down on the noise. Maybe it was just because the guy was clearly terrified: clutching his coverall, gripping the pills, head darting on a swivel.
"Hey, sorry." Clu tried to make himself smaller, kept his hands visible. "I literally did not see you there. You okay?"
He did not look okay, somehow greying and flushed at the same time, deadly pallor straining to turn a rich, inviting red. He didn't seem super aware of his surroundings, either, except to keep himself curled protectively against surfaces. Getting pressure, even if he wasn't quite aware of it, and looking for somewhere safe.
His eyes were way too big. Staring, white on all sides, but on the inside dark and bottomless. Was that the medication, or something else?
"Frank," Clu tried, slowly, keeping his gaze on his face. Didn't move towards him, didn't loom, mechanically pulling a fresh drink in a new cup. "it's Frank, right? I'm Clark."
Crucially, Clu wasn't blocking any exits or cutting off his path. Just offering him the water, if he wanted it, nice and easy. It might even distract him from what was definitely a dangerous dose.
Lungs, liver, heart: enough suppressants eventually suppressed everything.
"I've seen you around." Quietly, since the guy seemed wired for sound, for reaction of any kind. Clu moved very slowly, but he moved: putting himself between Frank and any other personnel that might come barrelling down the hall. "They really are easier with water, man."
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That left people who dealt with Kyle on the daily just--needing a minute, once in a while, to take in some air. To take a walk, and think about murder while grabbing some water, contemplating the paper cup and literally getting a grip: not crushing it, just observing, steadying their hands.
Because omegas who lashed out were emotional and difficult to work with. And nice nails was in fact a compliment! Just not from Kyle.
Clu--Clark--marched to the water cooler on autopilot, shoved the lever down like it stole something, and inhaled a full cup with zero situational awareness. He took a deep, steadying breath. And blinked at sudden motion in his peripheral vision: somebody trying very hard to not be seen, and thereby making themselves more visible. This one looked more than half-ready to run straight past him.
Oh, hey! He knew this guy. Knew about him, anyway. He'd seen him before, usually with the cart, always attended by the faint, pleasant chemical smell of random cleaners. He did the windows, and similar tasks--quiet, calm, very efficient.
Right now he was shaking, flat out, like a leaf in a storm, shoulders hitching with his breath as he palmed out a truly monstrous number of familiar pills. The big white ones with a dark blue notch where you were supposed to cut them in half.
He had a fistful ready, uncut, and looked like he'd choke them down dry rather than dare approach the water cooler or ask Clark to move. Clark, who most figured was an alpha at first. He had shoulders. He took up room. Encroaching love handles had somehow only made him more rectangular.
He had nice nails and a wedding band and he was doing the hum, low and steady, almost subvocal. The deep one Beth had teased him about, when she was full of what had turned out to be twins, laughing and letting him feel her belly.
Letting him purr, she'd called it. Flatly omega crooning. Weird instinct, at a weird time, for no reason he could identify.
Clu cleared his throat, pressed his tongue down on the noise. Maybe it was just because the guy was clearly terrified: clutching his coverall, gripping the pills, head darting on a swivel.
"Hey, sorry." Clu tried to make himself smaller, kept his hands visible. "I literally did not see you there. You okay?"
He did not look okay, somehow greying and flushed at the same time, deadly pallor straining to turn a rich, inviting red. He didn't seem super aware of his surroundings, either, except to keep himself curled protectively against surfaces. Getting pressure, even if he wasn't quite aware of it, and looking for somewhere safe.
His eyes were way too big. Staring, white on all sides, but on the inside dark and bottomless. Was that the medication, or something else?
"Frank," Clu tried, slowly, keeping his gaze on his face. Didn't move towards him, didn't loom, mechanically pulling a fresh drink in a new cup. "it's Frank, right? I'm Clark."
Crucially, Clu wasn't blocking any exits or cutting off his path. Just offering him the water, if he wanted it, nice and easy. It might even distract him from what was definitely a dangerous dose.
Lungs, liver, heart: enough suppressants eventually suppressed everything.
"I've seen you around." Quietly, since the guy seemed wired for sound, for reaction of any kind. Clu moved very slowly, but he moved: putting himself between Frank and any other personnel that might come barrelling down the hall. "They really are easier with water, man."