Gollum wants it raw and w-r-r-riggling (riddleinthedark) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-11-08 12:53:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, merrill, smeagol |
Who: Smeagol , Merrill and NPC Cheryl
Where: Shirink (Frodo’s company)
When: Tuesday
What: In which Smeagol is pathetic
Warnings: Rated PG for Pathetic Gollum.
Smeagol hated the executive floor. Really, there wasn’t any part of his job that he liked. The warehouse, sales, accounting.. Those were bad enough. But going to the executive floor was absolutely humiliating. These were people that made twice, three times as much as he did. They were important, and everything about the room was geared to remind people of that. The desks were expensive, the art was nice, and the windows let in lots of light. Even the doors were made of fine, polished woods.
And worst of all, the secretary. Cheryl was beautiful, and Smeagol used to have quite a crush on her. At first, she’d seemed charming enough, but he soon realized she had a mean streak. She was unpredictable.
But today, as Smeagol was pushing his mail cart off of the elevator and into the executive lobby, he saw a new face. A young woman with an otherworldly beauty. Her dark hair was tied back, her skin nearly glowed, and—were his eyes playing tricks on him?—her ears were pointed. For a moment, all Smeagol could do was stare. The girl saw Smeagol, and gave him a friendly smile.
Cheryl noticed him staring, too. “Might wanna roll your tongue back up into your mouth there, buddy,” the secretary told Smeagol once the woman had passed by her desk, rolling her eyes. “That’s where it goes if you want to, you know, actually talk to her.”
Normally he tried to ignore Cheryl, but her idea was startling enough that he spoke without thinking. “Talk to her?” he repeated. “But.. You think.. Me?”
Cheryl shrugged. “She smiled at you. How often does that happen when it’s not a full moon? You should totally ask her out.” The secretary didn’t keep it a secret that she thought Smeagol was creepy and pathetic. She told him nearly every day. It was something Smeagol usually dismissed, but now she was actually encouraging him. Maybe he really could do it, if even Cheryl thought so.
Smeagol approached the woman who was now seated in the waiting area. “Um. Hello. Are you new here?”
Merrill looked up, smiling again to the man. “Oh, I don’t work here. I’m a teacher. What do you do?”
Smeagol glanced back at the mail cart that she must have seen him pushing. Most people would have correctly assumed that he was just a peon from the mail room. But she was giving him a chance; he may as well take advantage of that and try to impress her. “I’m.. an accountant. The head accountant.” That was impressive, yes.
Merrill certainly looked impressed. “Ooh! I’m sure Frodo appreciates you very much.”
It was an odd thing for a teacher to be here, and even odder for her to say something like that, but Smeagol didn’t think much of it. He wasn’t really thinking much of anything, at this point. The girl was still talking to him, and smiling, even! This might be the longest any girl had spoken to him without making fun of him or telling him to go away.
“You’re beautiful,” Smeagol blurted. “Would you like to have dinner? With me, I mean. If. I mean. You’re so pretty.”
Merrill blushed, the pink standing out terribly on her pale skin. “That’s very sweet of you, but I’m actually getting married to Frodo on Saturday.” Most of the people on this floor seemed to know that, already. Merrill had stopped by with Frodo a few times, and they’d seen several of them at Frodo’s birthday party. She felt bad for the accountant, though, who seemed dreadfully embarrassed.
“Oh,” Smeagol said, his face dropping. “Well..” He searched for the right word. “Congratulations,” he said, his tone full of dejection. He could hear the woman saying something that might have been an attempt to make him feel better, but it was drowned out by his own thoughts about how pathetic and useless he was. Why did he even try? And the head accountant? As though that could impress the fiancé of the company’s CEO! What a miserable creature he was. He would be alone forever, no doubt.
“Womp, womp,” Cheryl mocked him with her impression of a sad trombone noise. She’d known exactly who Merrill was, and was amused that Smeagol had bought it, hook, line and sinker.
Sometimes Smeagol just wanted to tear her eyes out.