Chapter Text
Scott’s first instinct upon opening his office door was to slam it again, right in his interviewee’s face.
Admittedly he’d had his reservations from the get-go, but he’d disregarded them as paranoia. A surname on a resume wasn’t proof of anything, especially when it was a common one. There had to be dozens of Fitzgeralds in Utah, right? What were the odds of there being any relation between the two?
Now, though, he was seriously considering turning the young man away. This was either a wild string of coincidences or a sign that he’d messed up somewhere down the line.
Unfortunately, Scott was a professional. And professionals didn’t discriminate. “Jeremy Fitzgerald, I presume?” he said in what he privately referred to as his Business Casual voice.
Presumably-Jeremy nodded and stuck out a hand to shake. His palm and fingers were calloused, his grip firm but not aggressive. A good start, Scott admitted to himself. You could tell a lot about a potential hire by how they approached a handshake.
Letting go, he held the door open so Jeremy could enter his office. “Well, come on in then.”
Professional, he reminded himself as they sat down and he picked up the resume again. I can ask the important questions later.
The interview seemed both to fly by and to crawl. Jeremy thought through his answers as he gave them, stumbling over his words a little in places but otherwise confident. He made eye contact readily. He didn’t fidget.
Damn it, Scott cursed internally, scanning the notes he’d taken so far. There was no room for nitpicking; very few people were interested in working under Fazbear Entertainment, not after the events of last year. And Jeremy was doing well. It would be criminally insane not to at least consider him.
But the fact remained that he was a Fitzgerald. Worse, there was a family resemblance Scott just couldn’t ignore.
“To be clear,” he said once the official part of the interview had been wrapped up. “This is you.” He tapped the driver’s license Jeremy had provided as identification.
“Yeah?” said Jeremy, brow furrowing a little in confusion. “Why?”
“Just being thorough. It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s tried to get sneaky with identification.” Scott hesitated, then added lamely, “The facial hair doesn’t help.”
That part wasn’t inaccurate. The man depicted on the license was a little thinner, the shape of his jaw largely hidden behind a layer of scruff just thick enough to be considered a beard. Everything about him gave the impression of someone who rarely bothered to comb his hair, and struggled to get said comb through the tangles when he did.
“It’s an old photo,” Jeremy explained, clearly embarrassed.
Scott eyed him carefully, comparing the picture to the person. The eyes were the same, dark and deep-set and slightly droopy. Jeremy no longer sported the mullet he’d had back when the photo was taken, but the apparently untameable curl to his dark brown hair matched well enough. And while he was clean-shaven now, it wasn’t hard to imagine him bearded and unkempt.
Well, there went another excuse to turn him away. Scott had one last test up his sleeve and that was it. “Uh huh. Any relation to one Nestor Fitzgerald?”
Jeremy frowned a little. “I have a cousin named Nestor. Why, do you know him?”
His tone was mild, confused rather than defensive. Interesting. “Well,” Scott said carefully, “Given that Nestor has been banned from Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza for harassing the staff, I can’t hire you without first ensuring you aren’t here on his behalf.”
“Harassing-” Jeremy’s eyebrows had all but disappeared into his hairline. Then he squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “That idiot,” he muttered in a tone that made Scott think he wasn’t meant to hear.
“Nothing too serious,” Scott assured him with hidden, cautious optimism. “But I’m afraid if he’s involved in your decision to apply here, I will have to void your application.”
“Understood.” Jeremy lowered his hand and looked him resolutely in the eye. “He has no idea I’m looking for work, let alone where. We’re not that close.”
“Right,” said Scott, relieved. “In that case, I don’t see any reason for concern. Before you go, do you have any questions for me?”
“When can I expect to hear back about the job?”
I could tell you right now. “Before the end of the week,” Scott answered.
Jeremy nodded. “If you hire me, will I be getting training?”
“You will.”
“Okay,” Jeremy said, nodding again. He got to his feet and gave Scott a smile that was polite but a little awkward, like his face wasn’t used to making that expression. “Thanks for your consideration.”
He turned to leave, and was halfway out the door before Scott opened his mouth again. “Is your leg okay?”
Jeremy paused. “I got attacked by a dog awhile back,” he said with a shrug. “It doesn’t bother me much anymore.”
And before Scott could ask what kind of dog could leave someone with a permanent limp, he was gone.