Cold Silence

I stood in the middle of his office, watching him as he sat on his chair behind his work table. He scanned through his documents, word for word. The room was pindrop silent, except for the shuffling of papers when he flipped from one page to another. His expression never changed as he read, but I never expected otherwise. He was never an advocate for muscle movements and facial contortions.

I cleared my throat and let my presence be known. But I know he already knows my existence, and he was just wise enough to choose to ignore that fact. He didn't look up from the paper he was reading, deeming it more important than dealing with me. The silence in the room stretched on, and I doubt he would initiate a conversation any time soon. He wasn't one to waste his time on unnecessary movements

So I cleared my throat once more to get his precious attention, only this time it was louder. "Isn't it a wonderful day, Mr Ambrose, sir?" I said, my pathetic initiation of a conversation.

He flipped through another page.

I sighed. I kind of expected his response. Again, I cleared my throat, louder and longer than the first two, "Lovely weather we have today, isn't it, sir?"

He continued reading.

I wasn't one to back down a fight, so for the fourth time, I cleared my throat. Louder, longer, and more frustrated. I could practically hear the voice of my Aunt Brank at the back of my mind, enlisting all reasons why what I'm doing is unladylike. Someone outside of his office might think he got a lion for a pet. But right now, I wouldn't mind being a lion, and devouring him alive!

To that, I meant to devour him in all literal sense.

"Mr Linton?" He finally says, still not looking up at me. But at least he spoke. Hallelujah! For a moment there, I thought he forgot the use of his lips. It would be a shame if he did.

"Yes, Mr Ambrose, sir?" I asked, a smile breaking into my face.

"Why is your throat malfuntioning?" he looked up to me for a second before looking back at his papers, "And your facial muscles as well."

Instinctively, my hand reached my cheeks, "It's called smiling."

"Have it under control now, Mr Linton," he grumbles, "I don't pay you for lazying about."

"But sir," his head immediately snaps at me, his icy glare almost made me forget how to speak. Almost, "I've been meaning to ask your permission regarding... an important matter."

He glanced at me before getting his attention back to the papers in his hand. All I got is his divided attention, but it was better than nothing, "Indeed?"

I nodded, even if he didn't see me, "Very much so."

Mr Ambrose didn't speak. He continued to read his documents so I took it as a cue for me to go on with whatever I want to talk about. He really has a different way in motivating a man, such as myself, to speak his mind.

"I've been meaning to ask you if you would let me have a day off tomorrow," I went straight to the point since Mr Ambrose wouldn't think fondly of me wasting his precious time. I also don't think he would like what I just said. He'd probably fire me, so I should just get this done and over with.

What I said finally got his full, undivided attention as his head whips at my direction. He doesn't seem so busy now as he puts the document on his work table, his icy stares not leaving me. I noticed one of his fingers twitched, and even if he lacks in the facial expression department, I knew he didn't like what I said.

Blast! Now that I think about it, he could actually fire me like what he wanted to do in the first place when he found out I didn't have the same anatomy as he does. What I just did might cost me my job, and my freedom. And probably, everything.

"Day off?" Mr Ambrose asks, and the room temperature immediately dropped. The way he said those two words made it sound like it's a bad word. He made it sound like it's dirt stuck under his shoe.

"Yes, sir, day off. A day where a person doesn't have to go to work," I nodded slowly. Apparently, the meaning of day off isn't in his vocabulary.

I was bracing myself at that moment. The way his eyes burned holes in my body scared me. How could an icy pair of eyes burn? Even science can't explain that. However, Mr Ambrose seems to defy the power of science as I felt my cheeks started heating up.

"No work, no pay, Mr Linton," Of course, the money. Besides his time, he wouldn't like to waste his money on paying his workers having a day off.

"Yes, sir," I nodded once more, "I expected quite as much."

"Adequate," was all he said, before getting the papers back and started reading.

Well, that went surprisingly good. I was expecting him to lash out on me, but then I realized he wouldn't waste his energy on those kinds of things. And he probably likes the fact that he would pay me a day less than he usually does. He's cheap like that.

A smile broke in to my face, wanting to make a victory dance even if it may look unlady-like. A mental image of Aunt Brank giving me a look of dismay made me want to dance even more. She may stick her parasol up her... Besides, I was technically a man right now. Isn't it obvious? With my waist coat, tail coat, and trousers? I'm the epitome of an English gentleman!

With a bigger derriere at that.

"Thank you, sir!" I chirped, as Mr Ambrose signed up some papers, "I shall report to you on the next day."

He didn't respond to that, but it doesn't matter. One of these days, I should teach him about where he would put those lips into good use.

I was about to consider actually making a short victory dance, when he called out, "Mr Linton?"

"Yes, Mr Ambrose, sir?" I looked up to him, only to see him letting go of the file he kept reading the whole time.

"Bring me file 38XV180!"