InsaneJournal

Who: Weasley Twins + Abigail
What: Job Interview!
When: 5/8
Where: For the Lulz
Rating: Low
Status: Complete




"Shame about that last one," said George, who was working at cleaning smudges off of the glass counter with some windex and old newspapers.

"Yeah, really," Fred was doing no such thing as helping cleaning, but instead sitting on top of the counter, leaned against the heavy register. "She seemed fun. Shame, indeed."

They weren't completely moved by the lack of their newest hire who had not been a hire at all, but they did sympathize in their own weird way. "This new one could be interesting," George was forced to prompt, since his eyes were so fixed on the glass that they couldn't share one of their twin-ly secret language looks.

"Yeah." Fred said again, shrugging. "Have a few options this time. Maybe we could budget two people… the not-college girl? The one that doesn't know funny but is ace at filing?"

"Charity case," George voiced his thoughts, but seemed amused. The twins did like a good challenge, after all. And it was really just their job to impose fun onto others. Right? Right.

It was a joke shop, so Abigail hadn’t dressed up too much. She’d worn jeans and a nice blouse, though, and she managed to make her way into the shop without getting lost. Smiling when she looked around, she wondered where the twins were that she was supposed to interview with.

They weren’t too hard to spot -- two beacons of bright red hair and white smiling teeth, right there by the register. Only one appeared to be working, but that was how it often was. “Oi,” said the lazy one with a little nod, and it was enough to make the other one turn around toward the door also. “You Abigail, then?”

She nodded. “I am. You’re Fred or George. Which one?” She smiled and moved to offer him his hand. He seemed very cheerful, and reminded Abigail a little bit of the Crocodile from Alice in Wonderland’s poem.

“Take your pick,” the twins both said at once, even as George gave another cheeky smile and moved past her to put the closed sign on the door. Interviews were tedious when customers kept wandering in and asking what everything was.

Fred offered his hand in greeting. “Fred,” he clarified, because he wasn’t always completely evil.

“You guys are terrifying,” Abigail laughed. “You’re like the girls in The Shining, and if you ever say ‘redrum’ while I’m around, I’ll hit you.” She took Fred’s hand, grinning and blushing a little. They were cute too. Creepycute.

“Awww,” the both said, because that was the nicest thing anyone had ever told them! Okay, maybe not, but they liked it anyway. “Is ‘Come play with us’ acceptable?” Fred absolutely had to ask, shaking the girls’ hand. She’d been a little wrong, he noted. She might not have been laugh out loud funny, but she didn’t seem particularly shy. That was a start, anyway.

George scooted himself up on the counter by the register and then gave a snort of laughter. “We have nicer hair than them, anyway.”

“That’s fine, yeah.” She smiled, reaching up to touch George’s hair, giggling. “You’d look lousy in pigtails anyway.” Abigail blushed and retracted her hand, realizing she’d been too familiar with someone she barely knew.

If anything, the twins smiles only got wider, a little more predatory. They, of course, liked a great many people -- they were friendly, social creatures, after all. But they shared a look over her head that told all. This one? Definitely likable. Adorable, really.

“Probably,” Fred agreed easily.

“Is it just Abigail? Abby? A-big?” And thus began the Interview Process.

“Just Abigail.” She noticed the nearly feral smiles, but didn’t say anything else. So she wouldn’t touch their hair again, she put her hands into her pockets. “If you need me to fill anything out, I brought my ID and a pen.” This would be her first job, if she were to get it.

“Applications are for the birds,” Fred said dismissively. It was awesome owning his own business. He should get a name tag that just said ‘I do what I wannnnt’ on it. Maybe George would be for that.

“You’re still in school?” George prompted, leaning over on his brother’s shoulder to peek at her better. Probably, he would not have minded the hair touching. The twins tended to enjoy oddly awkward moments.

She nodded, biting her lip and blushing. George was the one that was cuter, if she had to pick, and she suddenly wished she’d worn a skirt. “I’m a senior, I graduate in June. So I’d be part time, afternoons, but I’m okay with working weekends. And I’m not going far for college, so I could still work here then, too. I’m going to live at home my first semester.”

Because none of that sounds pathetic, Abigail.

They didn’t really think it sounded pathetic -- then again, they’d never gone to college to know the difference. Fred was nodding, taking mental notes. There wasn’t really a huge stack piling up though, not really. They’d work on that. “Hobbies?”

George only smiled, not unkindly. Even if it was unbeknownst to the two of them, she had picked the less callous of the two to prefer, and that had to count for something. Or something.

She smiled at George, averting her eyes for a moment when they met and blushing. “I love movies, I like to birdwatch, hiking, swimming, I’m a foodie, love to cook but my father’s better.” Abigail was unaware of her fingers twirling the ends of her auburn hair.

She was. So cute. Like. Innocent adorable cute. The twins shared a look, silent communication for just them.

Terribly, so so terribly, they wanted to corrupt this girl.

“What kind of movies?” Fred asked.

“What do you cook?” Asked George. Hey, she might as well get used to dealing with their tandem and then not at all speech, since she’d be putting up with it a lot from here on out.

“Horror, and pretty much anything fancy.” Abigail was fine with dealing with tandem speech; her dad sometimes asked her questions that were compound in nature, this was no different. “My dad is an amazing chef - “ Not a cook, never a cook. “ - and so I eat a lot of stuff you might not like. But I could make you guys cookies or something.” She grinned wickedly.

Abigail Lecter wasn’t above baiting people with baked goods.

She clearly got on with her dad, and the twins - being more or less family oriented blokes - could get behind that. They nodded, amused bobs of the head. “We like cookies,” George pointed out, because they weren’t above being baited with baked goods.

“What’re you going to college school for next year?” George, you useless thing, ask some good questions too.

She grinned at George, her cheeks going redder when he smiled back. “Psychology.” Just like her father. “I want to do forensic psychology someday.”

“Bet that’s not at all like it’s shown on the telly,” Fred said, but didn’t seem too upset about that. That guy with those sunglasses. Always stealing people’s thunder. Ugh.

George grinned back, winking at her, because frankly he couldn’t help himself. “What kind of cookie do you make best?” Interview questions: they were very important, and totally had to do with job skills. Oh yeah. “Er. And what kind of filing do you do? We sell things online. That paperwork’s a bit a mess.”

She put her palms to her cheeks to hide the blush that George had inspired. But she could answer the cookie question immediately. “Hazelnut shortbread. It’s got Nutella and fleur de sel,” she smirked. And the paperwork for online? That seemed easy enough. “Well, you don’t really need to file things for that, just keep an electronic database. Don’t you have spreadsheets?”

Nutella: the veritable food of the gods. Fred looked suitably impressed right up until he changed that expression up for utter amusement over the blush.

“We’ve got spreadsheets.” George shrugged, and it very much said that those spreadsheets could be more organized. He glanced at Fred.

“We can work around your school schedule. We’ll need you weekends at first, for all the training and stuff, but we aren’t completely evil --”

“You’ll get some off once everything’s banged out proper,” George finished. Heehee. Banged. They picked up from where started, and finished just as smoothly.

“If you want it, that is.” Although why anyone came in for an interview without wanting the job was beyond even them. “But we definitely want cookies.”

Like the evil genius mastermind that she was, Abigail rifled around in the tote bag she was currently using as her purse and emerged with a half dozen for each of them. It was wrapped in hot pink cellophane, and she smiled at them, trying to avoid George’s eyes.

No banging things out, thanks. They could talk, though.

“I’d like that, yeah.” She’d tell her father that working part time on the computer in the back of a joke shop was good for pocket money.

Well, she’d have to work out front too. Because they couldn’t pass on their evil and fun learnings if she say just back there all day.

Gleefully, they took the cookies, and neither had enough restraint not to have one. “Holy-”

“- Shit. Stay forever.” That was George, because he sure as hell knew how to milk it when he saw a girl who blushed and brought cookies.

Oh yeah. Job bits. “Saturday? 11 am? Social security card, ID, Pen. Enthusiasm. Seem good?”

Abigail gave them a mock salute. “Sirs, yes sirs.” She’d noticed the happy noise that George made and wiped her suddenly damp palms on her jeans.

Oh. It was just too cute. The twins beamed, ignoring cookie crumbs for general jolliness. “Atta girl,” Fred tittered, “already learning.”

“You are free to flee now,” George said, between nibbles of a new cookie. “But please do actually come back on Saturday.”

Squeeing with glee, she hugged each of them in turn, giving George a kiss on the cheek. Impulsive? Sure, but it was her first job.

They laughed at that, even though George had the grace to look a little pink over the gesture, as well. But impulsive was good! They could work with impulsive.

“Laters!” Fred called out as she left, still fighting off what he felt was going to be a very mad cackle.

She bounced as she walked out, feeling pleased as punch with her first job. And she was excited to run home and tell her father.

Fred glanced at George once their shop was empty again. He rose his eyebrows. “Someone has a crushhhh...”

“Shuttup,” said George. And then they ate the rest of their cookies like complete gluttons.