SimonW
Well-known member
( chapter 6, part 4… )
The downward ride in the lift was a bit daunting for Chris, his wavering but somewhat resolute conviction forcing himself to not be scared of the unknown. Besides, his growling belly made his hunger for food overcome his mind for safety at this period of time after Uncle Joey had recommended him to go to the reception desk if he felt the need for a meal.
It was still with timid intermediate steps that Chris dared to venture forth from the mirrored lift.
With a hefty sigh of trepidation and relief, Chris exited the lift as the semi-familiar ding announced his arrival to the ground floor and the doors slid open to allow him access to the freedom of open airways once more.
He observed the taunt sight of the receptionist, Daniel, slouched but poised behind his marble inlaid desk as if ready to be available for service.
But Chris sensed a slight tense atmosphere behind the thinly veiled facade of customer service, an idle twitch of the mouth behind the pursed purple lips of the effeminate man as he wandered over towards Daniel and gazed up at him.
“And, what, pray tell, may I do for you?” the bored receptionist asked without much interest or enthusiasm as his right hand fingers tapped his fingernails across the marble countertop of his desk at Chris.
“Um…I’m hungry. I am sorry to trouble you, sir. Could I get something to eat?” Chris asked in a meagre tone, trying to sound somewhat confident.
The boy was obviously failing his intention as Daniel just gave an exaggerated sigh of outward frustration that made Chris stop talking at once in embarrassment.
“Listen, kid. What do I look like to you?” Daniel suddenly asked in a serious toned expression of being fed up immediately.
It took Chris a small moment to reply, wondering if Daniel was being serious in his question. But he could tell that Daniel was, as the man in front of him stopped tapping his fingernails and brandished his arms out in an effort to convey his intent.
“A…receptionist?” Chris replied slowly in a confused manner as Daniel nodded his head in response.
“Exactly. A receptionist. I don’t babysit and I am not your personal chef, kid,” muttered Daniel with disdain, an arrogant air of boredom crossing his face.
( to be continued… )
The downward ride in the lift was a bit daunting for Chris, his wavering but somewhat resolute conviction forcing himself to not be scared of the unknown. Besides, his growling belly made his hunger for food overcome his mind for safety at this period of time after Uncle Joey had recommended him to go to the reception desk if he felt the need for a meal.
It was still with timid intermediate steps that Chris dared to venture forth from the mirrored lift.
With a hefty sigh of trepidation and relief, Chris exited the lift as the semi-familiar ding announced his arrival to the ground floor and the doors slid open to allow him access to the freedom of open airways once more.
He observed the taunt sight of the receptionist, Daniel, slouched but poised behind his marble inlaid desk as if ready to be available for service.
But Chris sensed a slight tense atmosphere behind the thinly veiled facade of customer service, an idle twitch of the mouth behind the pursed purple lips of the effeminate man as he wandered over towards Daniel and gazed up at him.
“And, what, pray tell, may I do for you?” the bored receptionist asked without much interest or enthusiasm as his right hand fingers tapped his fingernails across the marble countertop of his desk at Chris.
“Um…I’m hungry. I am sorry to trouble you, sir. Could I get something to eat?” Chris asked in a meagre tone, trying to sound somewhat confident.
The boy was obviously failing his intention as Daniel just gave an exaggerated sigh of outward frustration that made Chris stop talking at once in embarrassment.
“Listen, kid. What do I look like to you?” Daniel suddenly asked in a serious toned expression of being fed up immediately.
It took Chris a small moment to reply, wondering if Daniel was being serious in his question. But he could tell that Daniel was, as the man in front of him stopped tapping his fingernails and brandished his arms out in an effort to convey his intent.
“A…receptionist?” Chris replied slowly in a confused manner as Daniel nodded his head in response.
“Exactly. A receptionist. I don’t babysit and I am not your personal chef, kid,” muttered Daniel with disdain, an arrogant air of boredom crossing his face.
( to be continued… )
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