Doves and Peacocks

More rain fell today than had in months. It drove vengefully at the tiles of the porch, roaring on the steps and the rooftop, churning up the soil a hundred feet below. All across the sky was spread an unforgivingly black blanket of roiling clouds, not a gap in sight.

Despite the umbrella she held valiantly against the wind, Ruthenia was getting very, very wet.

"Excuse me!" she yelled for about the fifteenth time, letting loose another barrage of knocks on the door. Droplets splashed from under her fist. "Mister Calied? You got my message, didn’t you?" Ruthenia leaned her head against the door, but if there were any telltale noises, the rain drowned them out. She pressed her head against it harder.

Right then, the lock clicked and the door swung inwards. Ruthenia had about half a second to yelp, before tripping through the doorway, arms flailing.

"Miss Cendina?" said Mr. Calied, looking the slightest bit amused as he watched her find her footing.

Ruthenia greeted her host with a pointed glare and a soft growl of his name. Titanio Calied was six feet of blond smugness and his face looked like it wanted a fist in it. "Yes, that's me," she muttered, wringing the water out of her shirt. The puddle at her feet grew.

Without so much as raising an eyebrow, Mr. Calied waved her toward the armchair in the living room, which stood facing a short coffee table laden with paper sheaves. He then promptly seated himself in it.

Slouching, the inventor affixed his blue gaze to hers and grinned like a harlequin. "So, Miss Cendina. Are you anything like your mother?”

"Who cares about her?"

He smirked. "I’m sure she’ll appreciate your sentiments. What is your skill set?"

"I’m a mechanic and an amateur inventor, entirely self-taught. And I’m good at math. Here, I brought the test certificate." She began riffling through the contents of her canvas bag, soggy as a bundle of rags.

"No, no need for that, I believe you,” the inventor batted her hand away from the bag. “I don’t need papers. My friend knows talent when he sees it.”

Ruthenia’s mouth opened. “But he made me sit for—I spent all that time preparing for that nonsense test for nothing?”

“Do you think I am looking for talent, though?" Calied replied. She felt her shoulders sag. "You are not the most talented mechanic by a mile. In fact I doubt you’d even match up to the last one who came looking for a job.”

“Thanks,” she muttered through gritted teeth.

“But they were all so—so insipid. They were here to build things for me, no more. And to build a reputation. I'm not here to fill resumes. I'm here for a challenge!"

Alright, then. Celebrity inventor Titanio Calied was a six-year-old in an adult’s body.

The man then stood from the couch, so suddenly that she started backwards. "You're the closest thing to a challenge I've seen all season,” he said. “Welcome to Calied Co."

"What?" Ruthenia stared at his outstretched hand.

"Welcome," he repeated, grinning. "You start work on Saturday. Meet me here at nine in the morning. The preparatory documents are on the coffee table, there." He pointed with a sock-covered foot at the stack of sheets fanned over the wood.

"You...planned to accept me."

"Of course I did. I sized you up the instant you started knocking."