Work Text:
Mildretta works hard, but even she can't deny the power of a break. Usually, it's just job after job after job, with paper after paper after paper, and a little sprinkle of people who need a wake-up call or to be put in their place or appreciated when said appreciation is due.
It's steady. It's empowering. It's normally the only thing that can completely distract her from the whirring of her mind, never truly off, always looking for something to fixate on. Whether that something is good or bad for her mental health is something she has had to force herself to consider, a bad habit carved by the brutality of her past.
Luckily for her, she has good people around her to look out for her, Meriege most of all. But she's not entirely used to being the one taken care of, preferring to hold the power of knowing better, feeling an odd sense of accomplishment when she corrects someone in their behavior, although she understands she can be a little harsh.
Case in point when Mildretta walks out of the South Branch office for a five-minute breather and walks down into the cavern underneath the office to see Enjin of the Cleaners leaning against one of the pillars, smoking a cigarette, umbrella hanging from his hand.
He immediately notices her, eyes snapping onto her with the speed and vigilance of a bird. The angle of his cigarette drops lower as he hums in recognition. His hand — large and tattooed — reaches up to extract it from his lips.
"Oh, Miss Big Bad Sharpshooter herself!" Enjin greets her like they're more familiar with each other than they actually are. She kind of likes it nonetheless. "Come to yell at me some more?"
Mildretta had paused when she had seen him, lounging in the shadows of the cavern, leaning on his umbrella. Now she keeps walking toward him after his greeting, feeling like a moth drawn to flame for lack of a better analogy. She stops a few feet from him, recalling the way she had told him off about his slacker attitude and lackadaisical planning techniques a beat before. It hadn't been the first time it had happened, and it probably won't be the last.
(She should hate that fact more.)
"You're a brave one, I'll give you that," Mildretta replies, and it is the truth, whether she's irked or not. "Most people hightail it out of here when I give them a lashing like that."
"I'm not most people," returns Enjin with a cocky crook to his smile. Mildretta meets his gaze without missing a beat, but feels a spark of amusement despite herself. Then he shrugs and takes another drag. "Besides, I'm used to it."
"You shouldn't be," snaps Mildretta, but it has much less venom than usual. Maybe she's more tired than she realized; maybe she just wants to cut him some slack. It's so not like her.
Enjin laughs, and it should be irritating how shameless it is, but it's a nice laugh, full of so much energy and enthusiasm that it's almost infectious, and she feels herself relaxing more. "Well," he muses, and his eyes flit over to her, and her heart skips a beat. The twinkle in his eyes is exhilarating, dangerous swagger. "Maybe I just like being yelled at by a beautiful woman."
Mildretta isn't blind. Enjin is extremely attractive, totally the type of guy she could imagine herself getting tangled up with. However, with their jobs considered, it's a stupid idea.
An intoxicatingly stupid idea.
Okay, she'll bite. Just for fun. "How would you like to be shot by a beautiful woman?" she offers with a slight smirk to match his, eyeing him with what she hopes is a sultry look.
Whatever Mildretta had been expecting, it certainly hadn't been for Enjin's eyes to blow wide and start choking on his own cigarette smoke. Enjin coughs for a good minute, gray wisps everywhere, his wheezes almost comical. Mildretta doesn't know why it's more endearing than anything else. She pats him on his back while he leans against his umbrella for support. After a moment, Enjin rises back up to standing, watching her with watery, shellshocked eyes. He finally releases a very dignified, unintelligible sound in response. She lets out a little laugh.
"Easy there, champ," Mildretta assures, now clapping a hand on his rather solid bicep. "I was kidding."
"No, no." Enjin thumps his fist against his chest, spouting out another cough. "That's on me for dawdling around and smoking my ass off."
He looks at her somewhat apologetically, and it feels pointed. Mildretta then recalls using those exact words to scold him inside the office just before. All you do is dawdle around and smoke your ass off! Are you giving HQ that crap too, 'cause I don't know how else you get to stick around there!
"Ah," she says delicately. "I was right. But I've heard I can be a bit nicer when telling people off."
"Nah, never change." Enjin leans back against the pillar, tilting his head back up but still looking at her. He's standing more off to the side now, a space left open beside him, like an invitation. He's smiling again. "You're a great Supporter."
Mildretta tries to take that as the simple compliment it is, ignoring the warmth rippling through her nerves right then. She realizes that she still has her hand on his arm and moves it off quick, but she swears that she can still feel him imprinted on her palm, burning right through her glove.
"Damn right I am," she mutters, shifting to stand in the space he left for her. She spots his cigarette lying abandoned on the rocky ground. She stamps it out with her boot. "Sorry about that."
"It's fine." She glances at him, at the cut of his jaw, the curve of his neck, the glide of his tattoos.
Yeah. Definitely the type of guy.
"Mind if I have another one before I bounce?" Enjin asks, looking at Mildretta in what she thinks is an expectant fashion. She tries to contain the stir of excitement humming inside her by forcing a frown on her face.
"If you must," Mildretta grumbles rather convincingly, but Enjin laughs yet again, like he can see right through her. He takes out another cigarette, lights it, inhales. She watches him throughout it all, something in the way he moves almost demanding to be watched. He catches her eye, and shoots her a winning, knowing, electric grin.
So the type of guy.