juvia lockser is, if anything, unpredictable.
her habits, interests and personality can change in what will feel like an instant - it’s something you must suffer with if you’re anyone close to her, and because of this many have developed a rather efficient coping mechanism - keeping an open mind. expect her to enter the room and sing, and expect to join in, or expect her to timidly appear and be ready to let her know that you’re glad she’s there. she’ll be the life of the party, the leader of the book club, or something in between, and there’s no way of foreseeing it.
but the one thing all of her friends can agree on is that while she may be clumsy, unpredictable and a strange mess of an adult, she still manages to be obsessively punctual.
her friends would consequently be shocked to find her now, as on her first day at her brand new dream job, juvia lockser is ten minutes late.
she less enters the room than she does destroy it, spilling a few drops of already cold coffee a receptionist had given her and nearly tripping over an upturned corner of a rug as the sound of the door slamming against the wall behind it assaults her ears. taking a moment to examine her current position, noting that the coffee probably wouldn’t stain and kicking the rug back in place, she sets herself right. smooth the creases in your skirt. adjust your collar. take a sip of your too strong coffee. you’re good - you’re fine.
the door shuts gently behind her, but her focus has already shifted - swiftly examining the room for witnesses of her mistake. she finds two long, parallel sofas, a table with a water machine in the corner, a crowded notice board with a school map to it’s left, a few ‘world’s best teacher’ mugs but no judging eyes directed at her. no whispers or forced greetings, but instead silence for all but the distant chatter of classes starting next door. she’s alone. thank god.
(you’re not late if nobody knows, right?)
comforted by the knowledge, she lets out a small hum of relief and lifts her bag onto the table closest to the door, letting the contents spill slightly out of the half-open zip. juvia’s glad she hasn’t had to deal with any negativity yet - her anxiety is a wild thing on a good day, and she wanted today to be an exceptional one, no matter what. this empty staff room is the perfect springboard for that; she has more time alone to plan her introduction to the classes, plan how she’ll make friends with her co-workers and plan how she’ll keep good control over a teacher’s demanding workload. her eyes momentarily close to appreciate the delightfulness of the situation, and how despite her broken alarm, everything has turned out fine.
she waits for something to change, for her boss to come storming in, but no. everything is still just as it was before - fine.
until she hears a shift of weight and senses a presence behind her - feels a gaze locked on the back of her head. dread flooding her chest like a broken dam, bringing a bluh to her cheeks and the tips of her ears. having not yet taken a seat, her position slowly pivots on her heal, swivelling just enough to take a look at the man standing behind her that she now holds accidental, awkward eye contact with.
oh, god. he’s been there the whole time, hasn’t he?
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