All About Work

Alaude was in the academy to finally pass his proposal for his lessons next semester. There wasn't much to be done inside the campus after that, but there wasn't anything for him to do back home either, especially since the shop was having its slow days and his sister was home to man the shop anyway. So he stayed awhile, deciding to kill some time in the teacher's lounge nearest to his office while having some snacks-- meat fougasse and a cup of black coffee-- all in silence supposedly.

Until he noticed from his corner another man in the room, not so much older than he. Alaude had heard that they had some new staff. They always had anyways. And despite his usual cold and distant attitude, Alaude was disciplined and civilized enough to actually make acquaintances of his coworkers. As a man who had done military/combat related jobs, he knew how important it was to establish camaraderie among coworkers. He stood up and approached the man.

"I don't suppose we've met," he said as he got close. He had a small smile on his lips, enough to let the other know that he was here to mingle, despite not having that smile reach his eyes. He didn't hold his hand out for a shake, nor did he immediately offer his name. It wasn't his style. "How's work so far?"
@MuchoMachoMan

Alaude wasn't rude enough to ignore the handshake offered, despite not having done it first. He took the other man's hand in a firm but careful grip, making a single tug, and let go after they have exchanged names. "Alaude Cross. I teach Mechanics. Pleased to meet you, Mr. McQueen." He had a feeling he should speak less casually considering their positions, but at the same time this man was obviously here to breathe and temporarily escape the toxicity of work, which Alaude would gladly help with, at the time being at the very least.

He gestured for Steve McQueen to retreat into the comfort of his chair before quickly asking, "May I sit here with you?" and taking the seat opposite the said man across a table. He had brought his coffee with him; unfortunately the bread had already run out so he couldn't offer any.

"HR work sounds truly suffocating, no wonder this is our first meeting," he said. His right hand remained clutching the handle of his cup, his thumb absentmindedly stroking the rim as he imagined what it was like in McQueen's office with the help of the man's mention of a fort of papers and a lack of sunlight. "I'm sorry I have my own file you would probably have to deal with." He was actually taking that seriously.

"As for my work, well," he took a sip of his coffee, "I admit yours is much worse. I just got back from England, so I have nothing else to do but prepare for next semester. I'm mostly done." There's the fact that instructors are typically required to conduct studies, but Alaude didn't have to worry about that until the last days before beginning of classes.

"I take it you're on a break?"

What McQueen mentioned about teaching was... well, he wasn't wrong. But Alaude couldn't help but laugh a little, just quietly, remembering how troublesome things actually were when he was in class, how difficult it was to get along with students especially the younger ones.

"It's not my style to give my students too many readings," he said, in response to the inquiry about his teaching style. Alaude usually didn't like sharing his preferences and methods to others but... the way McQueen was quite agreeable in what he was saying made it easy for Alaude to speak a little more. "If I were a student I wouldn't read books to learn about how to build and fix machines. I'd learn by doing. Of course I still present lectures in class and cite references, and if they want to read more on it then by all means they may. But I require a more hands-on method of learning in my class."

Alaude, while growing up, had taken the shortcut in learning about machines. He was, after all, born to do it. But he knew how important it was to practice on skills and hone them to perfection, and in his profession it can only be done through application.

"I'm sorry but I can't say which part of England I'm from exactly. It's confidential." Alaude also had mixed thoughts towards McQueen's words for England. Again, the Director was very much agreeable, and it felt very strange for Alaude to not get pissed at someone. He gulped the irritating lump in his throat with more coffee. "You were in the Navy?" His eyes lit up and a smile of genuine curiosity showed on his face. He realized that they might have had some things in common, though only similar and not completely the same.

Mr. McQueen's story about his time in the Navy was a rather intriguing one, and Alaude listened with utmost attention and curiosity, even though the way he absentmindedly fiddled with his cup made it seem as though his brain truly was blank and floating at the time. But he gave enough response after that; he didn't spend his days in the middle of the ocean and he was no engineer, but he could at least tell they had similar experiences.

"Not the navy, no," he answered. He raised his cup as if he was going to take a sip, but instead kept it suspended in the air and swirled the liquid around. "I worked with weapons... designed some of them even, and I was often out in a battlefield. But I wasn't in the military." He came from the darker side of wars and fighting, and while his work had connections to diplomacy often, they weren't his only concerns, and he did not pledge loyalty to any country either.

Alaude decided to leave the details out. This time he took another sip from his cup, and realized that the coffee was starting to get cold. He made a dissatisfied face for the unsatisfactory temperature, before finally looking at McQueen in the eyes. "I suppose 80% is too much when you're at sea and you couldn't do anything else. But do you miss it-- life at sea, the dark and greasy workplace? I won't ask if being in HR is better because it doesn't sound better at all, honestly."

Usually, Alaude didn't even entertain such questions. He hated talking about himself, he would much rather listen to someone else, and he'd usually just brush off any question that would lead the conversation into exposing him. Strangely, he felt obliged to answer these questions today.

"Let's say I do have this 'talent' for it," he answered. "I can read any machine's structure by simply touching its surface. It's helped make studying the theories much easier." Alaude wasn't quite sure how to add details to that, but thank the gods McQueen suddenly asked about pubs because that he can answer better.

However, the way the Director stated his question made Alaude laugh. Alaude wasn't the type to laugh so easily. "'More importantly', you say?" His hands found their way to his stomach as he tried to stop the terrible reaction. He wasn't the type to laugh and he really didn't want to be.

"There are tons of bars in the city, almost one every corner and every block. But it depends on what kind of atmosphere and drinks you're looking for. And what kind of crowd you feel comfortable with." Alaude paused, tilting his head and moving his eyes thoughtfully, since he hasn't really explored other kinds of bars in the island except those that served hard poisonous drinks, those places where bar fights were usual. He wasn't into the hip and cool night club type of places with dark lights and noisy party music and brats high on whatever.

His eyebrows wrinkled in the middle as he remembered a pretty good place, because he also remembered the guy he hated so much who was working there.

"There's a building by the port that looks like a giant anchor. They serve sailors usually, so you can expect their food and drinks to be just as tough as those regulars of theirs. But if you want a closer place, there's a whole street in the central district lined with bars and all those other nightlife shops. Take your pick because they're all good for different reasons."

Alaude shrugged. He had let go of his cold cup of coffee altogether, deciding not to drink what's left inside any longer. He leaned back and put his hands over his torso and tried to relax that way. Again, it was time to turn the conversation towards McQueen.

"In any case... Mr. McQueen if you don't mind me asking, it's such a curious thing-- how did you end up here in the island? I gather it's related to the supernatural occurrences you mentioned but... that means you're..?"

'Completely human and mortal without supernatural abilities,' he wanted to continue, but he felt that he didn't want to use his own words for that part.