Performance Review: Raian Ghannam (Part 2)

“Final question, Raian,” Miss Evans concluded, stacking her papers in a neat pile, “how would you describe the nature of your relationship with Mochi?”

The man’s eyes widened a little, averting his gaze from the interviewers before him to look at the tiled floor. He thought about it hard, he thought about the past, the last few minutes, and the future. His whole occupation up until now revolved around thinking, so why was it suddenly so difficult to come up with an answer?

He tapped his right foot against the floor as any and all coherent thoughts were immediately plastered over with mental images of Mochi. He never understood why the boy was in his head this much. Patterns of overthinking weren’t uncommon for Raian, sadly.

As he hunched over, he rested his chin on the palm of his hand, feeling a flush of heat overcome his face. And while his hands ran over his skin, a sense of displeasure nagged at some distant corner of his mind as he noticed a few patches of stubble he missed about his face. He decided he’ll deal with that later.

Speaking of things to deal with later, the man only just now realised he had neglected to fill in the form for Mochi’s breakfast. He was sure the boy had some kind of eggs – were they scrambled or fried? Toast was present, surely, and he had a bowl of strawberries alongside it. What drink did he have? He’s expressed his disgust for coffee, calling it ‘dirty water’ more than a few times, so it certainly wasn’t that. Perhaps it was just a glass of milk?

The mental checklist in his head grew increasingly rampant as every other thought revolved around work, and Mochi, but of course, Mochi is his work, it makes perfect sense. Why wouldn’t he be thinking about him? Surely other handlers think and feel the same.

He wondered if he would be thinking this much had he been assigned to a different Aberrant. A certain demon he shares a room with watches over at least five Aberrants, so why was he assigned to Mochi, and Mochi alone? He knew he overheard his superiors mentioning that the boy was a special case when he first joined the staff, perhaps it’s related?

“Raian?” a voice awoke him from his rampant thoughts.

“Hm?” he raised his head, adjusting his hair and sitting up right, “Sorry, what was the question?”

“Can you describe the nature of your relationship with Mochi, please?” Miss Evans repeated.

“We’re just friends.” Raian swallowed.

There were a few looks of concern among the board, and Dr. Griggs began scribbling down notes Raian would never see. Miss Evans on the other hand pursed her lips as she pushed her half-moon glasses in closer. Her eyes narrowed, and she gave an authoritative clearing of her throat.

“You are aware that we’re referring to the Aberrant, I hope? Your duty is to report on changes, be it behavioural, height, or thaumaturgical. It wasn’t made to be your friend, Mr. Ghannam.” Her voice took a sharper tone.

The researcher’s eyes lowered, letting only the floor bear witness to the animosity brewing in him. He clasped his fingers in his palms, squeezing tighter than he intended, as evident by a faint cracking of bones. He sat in silence until the woman chimed in again.

“Other handlers describe the nature of their relationship as ‘temperate’, or with an ‘absence of hostility’, if you need a guideline.”

Inquisitive eyes peeled away at Raian’s words – a part of him wondered what exactly he even did wrong, but a bigger part of him knew he had to keep up appearances. The man raised his head, matching the mild look of disdain being thrown at him.

“Temperate.” Raian spat, feigning a smile.

The room grew quiet, and the rattle of the ventilation fans took the spotlight once more. Silent glares were shared between the lot, save for Faloux; while he did indeed have an intense look about him, the elf was currently pondering what to have with that fresh loaf of sourdough he purchased this morning.

“A word of advice, boy,” the bald orange of a man interjected, “remember your place, and the Aberrant, in turn, will remember its place.”

“That will be all, Mr. Ghannam.” Miss Evans inhaled sharply, “Thank you for coming, you may leave.”

Wordlessly, Raian shot up from his chair with a grating metallic ring and made a beeline for the heavy, bolted doors.

“Ah! My apologies—” Faloux shouted from across the room as Raian spun back around. “The matter slipped my mind, but does the name ‘Unali Crowe’ have any significance to you? We’ve received some alarming reports regarding the hostilities between the two of you. Is this something we need to interject on?”

On some level, Raian appreciated the sentiment but couldn’t help but acknowledge the lack of awareness that the two are actively sharing a room. Raian had known Unali for most of his life, and he’d be lying if their presence wasn’t some degree of torment.

A prime example of said torment would be the time Unali welded Raian’s old stethoscope to the ceiling of the cafeteria. It’s still there. There was also the incident wherein they laced his morning coffee with arcane dust to see what would happen – Raian counted sixteen new colours he witnessed over the span of a week.

It’s not like Raian was exactly innocent either. He could admit that much. In fact, he took a moment to ponder how he could pin the blame of the broken fridge in the 3rd level breakroom on Unali.

That one is still being cleaned out after he rigged a small amount of explosives into several pots of cottage cheese assuming Unali would be first to open it. A faint, mischievous grin crept over Raian, stopping in its place the moment he remembered it was Griggs who opened it first.

To this day he still smelled of cheese.

“Ah, no.” Raian coughed, stifling a slight snort, “No, nothing to worry about.”