Chapter Text
Eggsy hated snobs. There was no way around that – he saw a guy in a suit, and a knife was opening in his pocket, ready to stab. There was no age difference in there, a high class top suit that fitted perfectly and probably cost more than Eggsy was ever able to earn in a year, was the first indication the person wearing it equalled a douche ready to deliver an unpleasant one liner including an insult of the other’s clothes, family or intelligence.
Rich guys working in big, successful companies were basically the best example of how money could make a person different – slice their brains in half and butter up the remaining hemisphere, making it functional only at the sound of money whispering sweet nothings. He intentionally thought mainly of guys, because women usually knew what they wanted, and if they decided to be cold blooded and bitchy, it was just because they wanted to get men on their knees. Dangerous, Eggsy admitted, and no less bad than any other man with a tie, but he still took it lighter seeing a pretty lady in high heels and a business suit than a dickhead in Ferrari.
The main thing his outrage surfaced once more was an insufferable prick in a bank, hogging the counter with the lady behind it, flirting with the poor soul like he wasn’t twice her fucking age, and Eggsy was painfully running out of time for his job interview. But he couldn’t leave without dealing with the bank first, which proved impossible as far as this suit-brain wouldn’t move out – and the patience was running thin. He was wiggling his skinny butt there for twenty minutes already and Eggsy had an urge to go and kick him, even though he would risk stabbing himself by the stick in that guy’s arse.
“Excuse me,” he stepped forward, past the private line, and tapped on the man’s shoulder boldly, immediately making him focus on Eggsy with surprised expression in his brown eyes. He was taller than Eggsy, and kind of lanky, but with broad shoulders and a strong looking posture. But he was old, for fuck’s sake, the girl behind the counter was Eggsy’s age, what was he trying to accomplish? Play a sugar daddy?
Well, definitely not wanting to play chess.
“Sorry, I’m kinda in a hurry, if you please speed it up a little, that would be great,” he gritted through his teeth and had to admire himself for keeping it cultivated, even though his voice and expression must have said it all. But at least he hadn’t called him an arse right from the start, so he considered it a success.
The man stepped away from the counter with a bewildered look on his face, and then it changed into a curious one, looking over the boy like he was trying to place him into one of his pre-made columns. Eggsy was sure he just got a nice, fitting label, something like pleb or ignorant.
“By all means,” the man gestured towards the lady behind the glass, all languid movements, and Eggsy could hear the hidden insult in there somewhere. “Don’t let my business here keep you.”
“Making googly eyes is definitely somebody else’s department, not the bank’s,” Eggsy uttered, handing the girl his ID, and she quickly took it and tried to look very busy on the PC, judging from her erratic movements over the keyboard.
“That’s a new one then,” the man crossed his arms on his chest, apparently not keen on leaving the spot next to the blond, and Eggsy had to take a deep breath to keep himself from kicking his shin.
“You learn something new every day, eh?” he grumbled, bending down the sign the paper the girl handed him back, and heard how the businessman barked out a laugh. “There, done. You can get back to your wooing now.”
“How thoughtful of you.”
Eggsy didn’t even look back after the voice, his hands were already balling into fists, threatening to punch the idiot right into his face. He was happy he managed to leave the building without swinging one at him, although he considered going back and really hit him when he realized he didn’t have time to pick the clothes from the cleaners without being terribly late.
Fuck my life.
***
„Where is Saville?“
Eggsy glanced towards the door of an office he was standing at and swung on his feet nervously. It was about the third time he heard that – there were five people looking for that person right now. He could see them running around, asking for him, but the frequency the questions were coming through got shorter and shorter, and with each repetition the tone grew more and more impatient, on board of angry.
“I can easily tell you where he isn’t,” another voice responded, this time a female one, and Eggsy realized he heard it for the first time during the wait in this hallway. He was slowly starting to wonder if he even got to the right floor – this shouldn’t take so long, should it? But the table said 5th and this was the one, he double checked when he arrived, even asked at the reception. But since it held about twenty offices, he could never be completely sure he chose the right one, even though it said Human Resources Director on it. And he needed that person… right?
“I swear I’ll fire his sorry ass for this,” the first voice with a thick, Scottish accent said coldly and a chuckle followed.
“We can’t possibly make them wait much longer, Merlin,” the female retorted and there was rustling of papers and screeching of a chair against the flooring. Eggsy raised an eyebrow and wondered if they also had Arthur in there, so the happy duo would be complete. If this place was named Camelot, he must have definitely missed the memo.
“Let me just make a call first,” footsteps retreated a bit as if the offended bearer of the first voice crossed the whole room and Eggsy tried to look like he wasn’t listening at all when a group of men in suits passed him while talking loudly about littering.
He had to admit he was getting restless there, his legs were turning into stones and he felt the idleness getting to him almost painfully. He was aware people were eying him suspiciously the longer he stood there, and he had to admit they had a reason – but that was all that suit-brain’s fault. He had relatively normal clothes ready in the cleaners, but since there was no time left after he was done in a bank, he had to come in his not very presentable attire – jeans, hoodie and sneakers, and he could tell it was like a punch in the face for all those suited people passing him.
Just my luck, he thought while sighing, looking around in a crippling boredom. He hated those companies with passion, and yet there he was for a job interview so he could see all those bored faces every day – what was wrong with him?
Probably the lack of money, the small voice told him bitterly.
This concrete place was a huge corporation called The Kingsman, and if there was even more snobbish name, it would involve words like an emperor or eternity. There were several self-running departments, numerous buildings over the city, not to mention several states, and Eggsy wasn’t bold enough to even guess how many people could work here.
Beside of him being not so presentable he also arrived a little late, and every minute passing with him just standing there while nothing happened was making him even more nervous. If he could get his hands on that guy from the bank again, he would definitely smack him over his head at least. The fact he was ought to go back home to say he blew the opportunity before it even presented itself was making him giddy already – not just from his mom, but hearing all the shite from Dean as well.
Good for nothing, parasite.
The problem was that he had been already sitting on his haunches here for about twenty minutes already, not daring enough to actually knock on the door while all he saw so far were people running in and out of there, asking for Seville while looking terribly distressed, and heard the Scottish man barking at them like an angry dog. The vibe he got from it was telling him if he tried to interfere, he would get his head bitten off, even though his own interview should have started about half an hour ago, or even more. There was a high chance he got called already, he knew, but he stubbornly stayed anyway, with a little dying hope inside.
The door opened abruptly few minutes later with fierceness that made Eggsy jump a little, and a bald, glasses-wearing man appeared in between them. His dark eyes were piercing and little unhappy and Eggsy suddenly felt ridiculously small in comparison.
Well, might have been also because he was rather short in comparison.
“Great, you are already here!” the man’s eyes lit up, even though the worry stayed at the edges of his mouth, and Eggsy blinked when he got patted on a shoulder and then offered an open palm in a greeting, that he basically forgot the phrase that he had been waiting here for about half an hour already.
“Welcome aboard,” the bald man shot him a strange, stiffly looking smile and Eggsy couldn’t get rid of a feeling he was being critically observed to the tiniest detail – he didn’t blame him, he definitely didn’t look like the best office material right now. “They were faster than I thought. Mister…?”
“Unwin,” Eggsy stammered out like in a haze. “Gary Unwin. Sir.”
“I see,” the man hummed, looking him over once more, probably wondering if he should just kick him out, but then apparently changed his mind and pulled Eggsy inside of the room where another person waited – a brown haired lass with big, pretty eyes and welcoming smile. It seemed like a learned pose though, polite and same for everyone. She was in a grey, nicely fitting business suit with skirt reaching her knees and heels not that high to kill a man – or herself on that matter – and her hair were neatly tied back, making her look like from a commercial.
“Mister Unwin,” his Scottish companion, probably Merlin judging from the lack of any other men in the room, nodded towards her, and Eggsy focused back at him, a little confused about the proceedings. This wasn’t really a standard job interview, was it? “Let me introduce you to Roxanne Morton, our Director of Customer Services. She’ll take you to the meeting now and explain everything on the way.”
What?
“Nice to meet you,” she smiled at him and squeezed his hand he managed to extend like in a haze, and then gestured towards the door. “Shall we?”
Merlin handed him a clipboard with a neatly looking chart and Miss Morton left the room in expectation Eggsy would follow – he didn’t really know why he did, but his vocal chords probably hadn’t been working, since he kept his mouth shut and walked after her like a puppy.
“You’ll just take notes. You can ignore the rest of the people there, you’re there with Mister Hart only. All he needs you to do is to catch all the dates and numbers, the meetings, if they are going to propose any,” she started all serious and her pace was hasty he almost wanted to ask how long it took her to learn walk so fast in those heels. “Get the vital points for the meeting. Try not to look like you don’t have a clue when they ask you about something, and they will, because they are annoying.”
It wasn’t very calming, Eggsy thought. He definitely hadn’t come here to play a secretary to somebody, no matter what they thought. He knew shite about how those people even functioned, trailing behind their masters with notebooks and knew every little schedule detail about their lives. It felt like a chore.
“Why didn’t they send Hesketh?” she inquired like he knew who the hell was that guy, and it made him absolutely stupefied.
“I have no idea?” he echoed and Morton shrugged and finally stopped at the lift, pressing the button impatiently. She seemed even more nervous than he felt and that was enough said. Who the hell was Hart then? A beast?
“Doesn’t matter,” she concluded with a sigh, but he didn’t really believe her. There was something in her tense posture he didn’t like, but he still nodded though. “I don’t think Hart likes him anyway.”
She spared him a side glance and cleared her throat, as if she wasn’t sure how to form proper words and he didn’t expect anything flattering out of that.
“Your clothes?” she asked shortly and Eggsy had to bite his tongue to stop himself from getting vulgar again about that idiot in the bank. Of course the first impression people working in here must have got included unflattering pizza delivery guy or a thug ready to shoot, and that all thanks to one annoying person at the wrong place at the wrong time.
“Sorry, didn’t make it to the cleaners,” he mumbled, rummaging the clipboard unhappily, trying to keep the rage inside. “But the meeting-,”
“No need to worry,” she finally gave him an honest smile and the lift dinged and doors opened. She entered immediately and pressed 8th floor, and Eggsy had a feeling he might have suddenly started to get claustrophobic. He came here for an interview! Why was he going for a meeting?
“Mr. Hart is a nice person,” she assured him about somebody he had no clue who it could be, but apparently nice must have equal scary, since she behaved like she was afraid a little. “Not to mention the meeting is with people he doesn’t consider important enough to be too serious about, but he needs an assistant there.”
An assistant? I didn’t come here to be an assistant to some snobbish arse!
The lift jerked unpleasantly for being it in such an expensive building, and the door opened once more, revealing long, clinically white hallway that seemed like it could lead to an afterlife if you let it.
“Do you have any questions?” she asked on a move again and Eggsy trailed behind her in a slower pace, grudgingly almost. This was bonkers – he couldn’t go there without any knowledge of this place. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, unable to protest or ask anything stupid, and his companion apparently took it like there was nothing else to say, so they spent the rest of the walk in silence, until she finally stopped in front of the door.
“Okay, take a deep breath and don’t worry about them, just listen and write down things that seems important and everything is going to be alright,” she patted his arm in consolation, like she didn’t know she was sending him to his certain death, and finally knocked on the door.
Eggsy thought nothing could get any worse when the door opened and he saw that there sat fifteen of the worst examples of humanity, all in Armani or whatever brand of suits they had, eying him like he was there to deliver a death sentence. Well, that was until his eyes settled on the only standing person at the table, leaning over the desk in the most leisure display of relaxation. At that point Eggsy wanted to throw the clipboard at him and stomp out of the room with loud fuming, especially when that prick from a bank was now grinning at him like he just swallowed a canary and Eggsy was the next course.
My fucking luck!
“Mister Unwin,” that arse greeted him with a dangerous cheerfulness in his tone and Eggsy gritted his teeth – he was pretty sure he heard the clipboard crack a little under the pressure. “How thoughtful of you to join us.”
“Oh, I wasn’t aware you are already acquainted with Mr. Hart,” Morton piped and it apparently made her calmer, since the tension from her shoulders dropped gradually. Eggsy didn’t know how could she be so relaxed around this fiend, but who was he to judge. “I’ll leave you to it then. Have a nice day, gentlemen.”
“Thank you, Roxy,” the biggest asshat answered her with a flirty smile, goddamn, was he for real? And then turned his attention back to the blond that stood at the door like he ingrown to the floor. “How about you sit down, Gary?”
Eggsy meant to profusely ignore him, seeing the only free spot was next to the man’s right, but the searching eyes of all those suited creeps made him to actually move towards him and slid down onto the chair like it physically pained him.
How he knew his name was beyond him, for real, but nothing could surprise him in this place anymore. He came here for a simple delivery job and now he was sitting on a meeting with all those old geezers and sincerely hoped it was a prank show. Because if not… he was immensely screwed.
He put the clipboard on the table with an apparent disgust and then a pen appeared in his field of vision, black and all fancy, and he snatched it like a bone for a dog, earning a low chuckle for it.
Fuck my life for real.