A burly troll sits in the corner with a “World’s Best Middle Manager” mug.
“Morning, Phil!” Amara calls.
He grunts, lifting the mug in what I assume is a greeting.
“Don’t worry,” she whispers. “He’s only crabby during quarterly reviews.”
I huff a quiet laugh, even as my shoulders stay just a little tense.
Around the room, employees bustle: a tiny sprite flipping through a magazine so small it’s a wonder anyone can read it, a centaur delicately stirring his coffee like he has no intention of drinking it, and a gorgon carefully adjusting her glasses without accidentally turning anyone to stone. A gelatinous blob jiggles across the floor, leaving a faint trail of rainbow glitter. A few humans check their phones, scroll, and sip their coffees. There are too many employees to name, too many to notice, and all of them somehow more at ease than me.
I swear I feel a dozen sets of eyes on me at once. Maybe they’re judging my tie. Maybe they’re deciding if I’m going to last longer than my first day. Definitely not helping my confidence.
I take a deep breath, hoping I’ve made the right decision to be here. But truly, there’s no alternative.
“Hey, you must be the new guy!”
Across the room, a handsome white man grins at me from his perch on the counter. Next to him, a striking Mothman leans against the wall, eyes glowing faintly.
“Sean Rivers,” I say, walking towards them. “New assistant to Mr. Frost.”
“Jamie Torres,” he says, shaking my hand. “Strategist. Welcome to the jungle.”
“Thanks. It’s already humid.”
Jamie grins. “You’ll adjust. Or mutate.”
My eyes widen, and Jamie laughs.
The Mothman gives a slow nod. “Jack Stein. Compliance.”
“Compliance?” I ask.
“Yep,” he says, wings twitching. “Harassment policies. Safety trainings. Making sure no one cries in the supply closet.”
“Good policy.”
“We’re very serious about it,” Jack adds, cocking his head so the overhead lights catch a faint shimmer in his eyes. They burn softly like hot coals. “Fun is allowed. Trauma is not.”
He gives his wings a neat, professional flutter.
I nod. “Reassuring.”
“But seriously,” he adds, lowering his voice, “watch your computer. They tend to attract… attention.”
“Of course they do,” I say dryly. “Because nothing says ‘welcome to your new job’ like the threat of a haunted workstation.”
Jamie leans closer, voice dropping conspiratorially. “Listen, if you ever want to know about corporate chemistry, I’m your guy.”
He winks, and my head spins trying to keep up.
“Chemistry?”
He smirks. “Employees at Labyrinth Solutions don’t just mix in meetings. Some of us are… experimental.” He winks again, the corner of his mouth lifting with mischievous promise.
I swallow hard. “Experimental?”
“Let’s just say,” Jamie continues with an easy grin, “sometimes the right combination of chemistry can surprise you.” He shrugs. “Or blow up in your face. Either way, it’s a surprise.”
