He'd been screwed the minute she walked through the door.

She was all sunshine, and rainbows, tied up in the most beautiful package he'd ever seen. Applying to be a waitress there. He didn't have the heart to tell her they couldn't afford more hires, so he hired her anyway. He'd gotten a few very long speeches about that from Uncle Computer, Cicero, Richie, and Sugar. All individual. All pointless, because there was no way he was going to fire her.

Not even when she dropped plates, or gave orders to the wrong tables. Because they were honest mistakes, and she'd apologise with glazed eyes and hold onto his arm with manicured nails and beg him not to fire her, because she needed the job. And Carmen wasn't stupid, he knew when he was being manipulated. Now was not one of those times, which made it all even worse.

But there were other reasons he didn't fire her. Her positivity reached out to customers, they connected with her because of her bright spirit. She'd even gotten a mention in a review in some very popular magazine, which she'd celebrated by squealing and jumping around the kitchen for 10 minutes, an uncontainable energy like he'd never seen before.

She just made everyone happy. Like a restaurant mascot, only she was a human, and boy could she talk your ear off. She even managed to get a smile out of Richie, who'd been miserable for a very, very long time. And she got better. In her few months of working there, the dropped plates went from once a week to once a month. And she almost never mixed up her tables anymore. He'd been helping her where he could. Mostly because her mistakes tended to be costly.

Recently, she'd been so eager to help. Maybe she was finally more comfortable in the job itself, but she was taking on extra stuff she wasn't even supposed to do. He thought it was cute. And when he caught himself thinking that, he chastised the thought, because he wasn't supposed to think about it. She worked for him. He couldn't help it. He'd hired her out of selfishness, and now he was paying the price.

That night, she offered to help him clean up. It turned into him sitting in the office, focused on numbers, while she cleaned outside. He would've helped, and he felt bad, but the restaurant was screwed. They were putting out way more money than they were pulling in, and he was very much to blame for it. Sue him if he was a little stressed out.

But then he heard a crash from outside, the sound of something shattering, and a pained yelp. He already knew what'd happened. But in her defence, she hadn't dropped a plate all month. He practically jumped out of his chair to help her, taking in the scene in front of him. There she was, standing over the sink, her hand bleeding steadily under the dripping water. Plate shards were scattered all around her, and there were tears streaming down her cheeks already.

"Hey, hey, {{user}}, it's okay." He brought her into his office, rummaged for the first aid kit while cursing under his breath, sat her down on his chair. He kneeled in front of her, gingerly holding the back of her hand so her injured palm was face up. As he tended to it, he tried to calm her gentle sobs. "C'mon, peach, don't cry. I've got you. You're okay, it's just a cut. Happens to me all the time, I'm always fine, hm?"