Time Warp: Tripping

[Thomas Legrand II]

Winter 2009

Thomas had only started a few days ago. So far, it was like every other janitorial job he’d had—and as he’d often pulled on a pair of coveralls and cleaned his own office after everyone had left and cleaned until he was no longer frustrated, this was quite a few of them. There were the ridiculous messes, the stupid graffiti that made no sense, the things you wished you hadn’t seen, and the just plain awkward.

Which meant that Thomas was, all in all, quite enjoying himself.

The work was straightforward. There were no spreadsheets or numbers to make his head spin. He didn’t have to smile and shake people’s hands even though he didn’t like them, and he didn’t have to travel or make polite conversation over nice dinners, and best of all—no cologne. Ever again.

He did miss the French, though. There was a nice language to speak.

Tonight, Thomas was working on waxing the floors. This was not his favorite jobs. The floors always ended up slippery for a while, the waxing machine was loud, and it took time and patience. Earbuds, he’d decided, were the best invention. He had them in and plugged into a plain and battered ipod shuffle, and was humming along to something loud enough to drown out the waxing when he saw a figure approach. Hastily, he took out the earbuds.

“You might not want to—“ too late. The figure had gone sliding on the floor. Thomas hastily reached out a hand to steady him and halt his forward momentum.

“You all right sir?” Thomas grinned. “Need me to get you a towel or anything, or do you think you’ve found your footing?”

[Ricky O'Cassidy]

Having worked at the Institute for ten years, one would think that a person like Patrick O'Cassidy wouldn't get lost. This, of course, was not the case. Preternaturally unlucky and prone to the strangest of accidents, this would not be the first time the blonde man got lost on the school grounds. Or, really, anywhere.

But! At least he made it back to the administrative offices all right. Granted, he'd lost a shoe outside when he'd gone hunting for the papers that blew off his desk, so the blonde was currently walking barefoot across the linoleum floor to keep from tracking mud all over the place. The remaining shoe and both socks were in one hand, the recovered papers in the other, and a smile on his face. He'd managed to find important documents and met a security guard that he'd never seen before at the same time. Lucky!

Well, as lucky as Ricky got, anyway.

Though the machine was loud, the blonde man really didn't see that the floors looked extra shiny until suddenly he tried to stop moving and just about collided with the man operating the waxer, who had reached out to stop him. The shoe went clattering to the floor, splattering mud on his already dirty slacks and the freshly shined floor. Though a little startled and probably gripping the other man's arms a bit tightly to maintain balance, he looked around to be a little more sure of where everything was, then shook his head.

"No, I'm okay," he replied. The accountant then realized he probably couldn't be heard over the machine and grinned. "Sorry about the mess," he added, a little more loudly, pointing down at the floor. "Lemme help you clean up - 's my fault anyway."

[Thomas Legrand II]

“Ah, no!” Despite himself, Thomas clamped a hand over his eyes as the muddy shoe clattered to the ground. That meant he’d have to wash and rewash. Good thing, he supposed, he had been running ahead of schedule. But judging by the tight grip on his arm, the man hadn’t quite reached safety yet. Thomas reached a hand up to help him steady himself, then offered him another smile.

“Do you think I can have the circulation back in my arm, then?” It was a joke, but a gentle one, and he shifted slightly to let him steady himself, and, once he had, shut off the waxing machine and pushed it against the wall. “Oh, don’t bother. It’s my job after all. You must be…Patrick O’Cassidy. The last janitor warned me about you. Said your office was one of the messiest he’d ever come out of.” Thomas paused, then managed an embarrassed smile. “That came out wrong. I apologize. I’m Thomas Legrand. I’m new. And having cleaned your office, it’s really not that bad. What happened to your, ah, shoes?” He’d noticed his condition as he picked one up. “Oooh. That doesn’t look good. And your pants too. Let me guess—mud? A lot of it?” He straightened up and offered him the shoe.

[Ricky O'Cassidy]

Laughing at the joke was easy and relieving as the older man relaxed his grip and steadied himself. Really, Ricky had expected the guy to be mad at him for messing up the floor, but the fact that he seemed so relaxed probably meant it wasn't a big deal. Still, he'd help clean up - his parents had drilled the idea that making a mess meant you cleaned it up into his head very young. The trick would be not making a BIGGER mess while trying to help.

"My reputation precedes me, it seems," Ricky replied, the humor dry but still warm. His bad luck was notorious amongst the cleaning staff for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was the sheer amount of coffee spilled in that office. Or the varying things that seemed to have been dropped behind shelves and forgotten until the furniture was moved around at the end of the year. "Yeah, that's me, and it's a pleasure to meet you, Thomas. Call me Ricky, though - everyone does."

Looking down at his feet made the blond man roll a shrug that was equal parts nonchalant and blase. He'd gotten so used to his random bouts of 'fortune' that nothing really got under his skin much anymore. Hell, he was just as likely to make a probability manipulator like the Headmaster strain every last ounce of energy to make his day normal as he was to step off a curb and break a leg. It'd happened before. "A few papers I needed from payroll blew out a window I left open during lunch," he explained. "Had to chase after them, got a little lost, and one of my shoes got eaten by the petunias. Don't worry, though - I have a spare set and extra slacks in my desk. Can't be dripping mud everywhere, after all."

Taking the shoe with a grin and another shrug, it was pretty apparent that this happened a lot. A goodly amount of the Irishman's income went into supplying himself with new clothes every month or so. There was probably only one or two items in his closet that had been there longer than a quarter. Including watches and ties. Oy vey.

"So you're new, then?" It was a clarifying question rather than any attempt at insulting. "What'dyou think of the place so far?"

[Thomas Legrand II]

Another janitor might’ve been upset, but Thomas had a knack for shrugging things off. Especially now, where he was in a realm he was comfortable in. Compared to the long nights trying to make things add up, schmoozing people to get factories set up in the right location, going to parties and making agonizingly polite conversation into the wee hours of the morning, some mud on a waxed floor was refreshingly direct. Simple. Easy.

There was probably something wrong in his head. After all, he’d just recently broken up with his boyfriend and had abandoned a very well-paying job. Yet he felt better now. Not the kind of thing a normal man did.

Thomas chuckled. “Cleaning staff gossip like washerwomen. Don’t take to to mean anything bad. We just like to talk about things, that’s all.” But yes, he was notorious. Still, Thomas didn’t want to make the man feel uncomfortable.

His brows climbed at his statement, and he leaned against the waxing machine’s handle, looking the man up and down in a way that was part assessing, part interest, and all amusement. “Considering all you’ve been through today, you look pretty good,” he said. “Did you find all the papers for payroll? I mean, losing a shoe’s one thing. But losing a job…well, those are pretty hard to find these days.”

He pushed the machine to the wall and rolled over his cart, pulling the mop out of the clip, dipping it into the bucket with a practiced motion, then pushing it over the mud. “Watch your feet now,” he said. “Wouldn’t want you sliding again.” The mud was cleaned up, and Thomas squeezed the water out of the mop and ran it over again to pick up some of the excess moisture, then returned the mop to the clip. “See? No harm, no foul. Yes, I’m new.” He smiled at him. “So far, I like it better than my last job. But I was lucky they were hiring. Have you been here long, Ricky?”

[Ricky O'Cassidy]

Ricky's crooked grin explained pretty clear what he thought of that. "Good to know the stories never run dry, then," he added. "I'm pretty sure there's been a new and unique accident every year I've been here." If not every term.

Holding up the papers, the accountant replied, "Yeah, everything's here. Nothing managed to run too far this time, thankfully. And a couple of the band kids even helped me out when I needed to get some off the field, since they were doing marching drills anyway." It was amazing how much the kids at this school were generally helpful, even if they were just teenagers. A lot of people seemed to forget that under all the fancy powers and moving from all over were just a bunch of kids. Days like today proved it. "Besides, even if I'm missing a couple, payroll knows to keep triplicate form for me. Just in case."

Stepping gingerly out of the way and onto the unpolished section of the floor, he watched as a couple quick swipes left no trace of him ever even being there. Neat. "Good to hear you're liking it," he carried on, tucking the shoe up under one arm (since he'd have to get the suit cleaned anyway). "Hammel's full of good people, and it never seems to have enough. I've been here about ten years myself and seen a lot of folk come and go. Not that it's a bad place to work for, not at all," he clarified. "Just a lot of people come back right after graduating college, so this is their first job."

It was actually really common - students graduated, went to college or got certificates, then came right back here to give back what they learned. Most ended up getting married, retiring, or taking other positions eventually, but that's what kept the new people coming in.

[Thomas Legrand II]

“No, they most certainly don’t.” Thomas offered a smile to Ricky. He didn’t know why, but he’d thought this would be harder, for some reason. Then again, not for “some reason.” He had GOOD reasons for being upset about things—breaking up with his long-term partner, leaving his job, talking very infrequently to his parents now…all of those things included. But he was doing work he liked and so far, with people he liked. He suspected he was going to enjoy this. “I look forward to hearing more. From your mouth, preferably.” Slightly flirty, but with no pressure. Thomas flirted. It was part of his gallant persona. But he rarely, if ever, meant anything by it. ”Seems like you have mistakes that can be easily fixed. That’s good. It makes it simpler.

The man made it without incident, and Thomas breathed out in relief as he finished cleaning up, then leaned against the handle—which was nearly as tall as him—and gave him a curious look. “Ten years? Would’ve pegged you for younger, sir.” He chuckled. “I’m no college graduate. Not anymore. But it’s a good job, with good benefits and a steady amount of pay. I’ll certainly take it.”

He supposed most of them ended up being teachers anyways, not janitors.

“It’s good they want to come back.” He shrugged. “Not a lot do.”

He smiled at him. “But not you. You weren’t gifted. So how did you come to be here?” He smiled. “if you don’t mind, I’ll have to work while we talk. I’m on the clock.”