be kind. rewind. (ap)

                 chill, max.  she takes a deep breath, listening to her own advice.  she can do this; she’s been practicing for what seems like ages, even in her free time at home.  slowly she leans toward dwight, expression severe.

         ‘ assistant to the regional manager ’  nearly slips from his tongue out of pure reflex, but he bites it back with a tight - lipped scowl, blue eyes briefly scanning their newest temp.  he wonders where she got the impression that he’d be given such a high title  ( not that he was undeserving, simply unappreciated )  and exactly how quickly Michael would have corrected her, had she mentioned it in his presence.  it’s not worth the worry, he decides, and quickly draws himself up to his full height, now towering over the young woman before him.         ‘ that’s correct. ’   spoken candidly, as always ;  professionalism ranks two tiers below loyalty in his book.  a quick glance at his watch, a sigh, and then  —–   ‘ you’re here early.  we haven’t finished preparing your desk yet, so …  if you require a tour, i suppose now would be the time. ’ 

                max realized only as he stood that she had expected someone shorter.  that in itself didn’t make her nervous, but coupled with her own awkwardness and the pressure of entering a new workplace made her unable to meet his gaze as he stood over her.

                she almost apologized for being early, but decided against it.  seriously, max, who does that?

               “rachel amber...”

                              the name escapes before max notices she’s spoken, and immediately her face burns as she realizes how strange it must have been as a greeting.  it was hard not to know who she was immediately -- from daniel to evan, she seemed to be the perfect muse.

              “mr. scott said i should come see you,” max begins, finding herself flustered as she realizes she forgot to introduce her self. “i’m -- my name is max.  you’re the... assistant manager...?”

               it’s a guess at best.  she’d been told to find someone that the kind woman at the front assured her was the man with the glasses and the odd haircut, though she hadn’t personally described him that way.  there was something... intimidating? ...about his expression as she’d approached.  max isn’t sure that’s quite the word, but she can’t place her finger on the exact mood he gives off.

             she’s learning, growing more comfortable with thinking of him as an ally, rather than an authority figure.  from the day they’d met, he’d seen a spark in her, but never once had he imagined the depths, the boundaries, she was willing to traverse ;  her first admittance of longing to follow in his footsteps had caught him off guard, and initially, he’d passed it off as nothing more than a desperate effort to earn his trust.  but now  —–  now he’s seen the truth.  what she’s capable of.  there’s no turning back for either of them.  

       ‘ of course it does.  how could you ever think otherwise?  i’d told you from your very first assignment that you had a gift, Max.  don’t try to make a liar out of me now. ’  

             a quiet breath of relief passes through her.  he was right to have been skeptical in the beginning -- max would have said anything if it meant she wouldn’t be DISPOSED of.  she hadn’t anticipated the fascination that would follow her own survival.

             they shared something important, an  o b s e s s i o n  with their craft.  max had never known the extent to which that obsession ran in her... until now.

                                                 all the more reason it mattered if she deserved to have won.