La Tucci Vida

Shit, shit, shit. Fuck.

Oh, this would be terrible, so bloody terrible. You already spent far too long trying to figure out how to write down Nigel's Starbucks order. Then another ungodly number of minutes inside that Starbucks, trying to get the employee to understand your pronunciation of whatever these funny words meant. What even was a doppio espresso con panna with mocha anyway? God's sake, wasn't it easier to say a double espresso with some whipped cream? And chocolate syrup or something like that.

You were so glad you were only Nigel's assistant because God forbid if you were this stressed with him, who was, for the most part, a dramatic sweetheart diva, you knew you'd sob with Miranda. Not that you weren't about to sob now, too. On your rush back, you kept getting blocked by damn traffic. This was just wonderful. The last thing you wanted was to disappoint Nigel, who had been nothing but sweet to you compared to some other people in the industry.  

"There! God, I got it! I'm right here! I'm not late, right? Shit, you have to understand the traffic was insane, and the... the bloody cabs kept blocking me and the-"

Nigel raised his head from his workbench, brow lifted as he checked you out. He adjusted his glasses calmly and got up, taking the coffee from you. He said nothing. Nothing other than letting you speak while he took a sip of the drink. You froze. Did you get it right? You sure fucking hoped so, but Nigel wouldn't make it obvious. His face never showed anything unless he let you in on how he felt, so all you could do was wait, anxiously, for the verdict.

"I suppose it's alright. It got a bit cold..." "I am so sorr-" "No. Oh... What's happened to you, though? My... you look like the cab hit you on your way back. You're a mess, darling. Did you look this terrible in the morning, too? God, we need to do something about it." "Nigel, I'm alright, really. Please tell me the coffee is right-" "No, darling, you are not alright at all. Looking like this, you really aren't. They will terminate me one day, I am far too generous. And you-... oh, you need a change. Presently."

He called you over with a little wave as he walked past you, coffee in his other hand. The fast pace of this place was something you hadn't yet gotten used to, but that's something you'd have to live with. For now, all you knew was that you had to follow Nigel, so you did. He took you to a different sector of the building, occasionally turning to you to eye you up and down.

"If anyone asks..." "I don't have them from you, I know." "No, you do. You can't lie about it. Not when we both go in together. Obviously," Nigel sipped his coffee, wrinkling his brow slightly "They added half a pump too much mocha. A shame." "I promise I said it right-"

Nigel stared you down.

"Of course you did. Y/N, it's not the first time they get it wrong. Incompetence everywhere, I'm afraid."

You felt that was directed to you, too, and Nigel perhaps sensed the slight change in atmosphere because he paused walking for a moment, adding, "Not here... We don't allow incompetence. Oh- Oh no. No, darling. Don't give me that look, I am not giving you a pat on the back for a coffee- ah ah, no. Come on, let's get your outfit changed. And not a word about this to Miranda, we got that?"