Abigail was nothing extraordinary by many means. Perhaps the most astounding thing she was capable of was making lemonade out of lemons. And her life was filled with lemons. At age 19, her family disowned her and her liberal lifestyle. Her family was one of the few that actually supported the war in Vietnam. Abigail didn’t. In fact, she had run off to the city multiple times in order to protest the war. And with her dabbling with a few substances, her parents decided enough was enough. They packed a bag for her and threw her out. And yet, she smiled. She never stopped. Whether or not she had actually worked past the pain was still unknown to many. Even Abigail herself.
The woman felt horribly under-dressed as she noticed the others in the building. But then again, she wasn’t a scientist. She wasn’t necessarily going to have the privilege of wearing a lab coat. Instead, she wore a denim skirt, tucking in a floral print blouse into it. Over it all, she wore an over-sized cardigan that she had to roll up the sleeves on her arms to make sure they didn’t hang too oddly by her sides. She looked like a poster child for Goodwill. And she was. Standing before the man, she couldn’t help the soft laugh that passed her lips, noticing how odd the image must’ve looked. He was neat and orderly. She was barely put together. But that didn’t seem to unsettle him.
Abigail’s smile only grew as he offered the smallest of grins. It didn’t make her uncomfortable, but she could see that it was a forced and awkward action. Like he had to remind himself. She wondered what a natural smile would look like as she followed after him, only to have her thoughts cut short by the man as he began to speak. “Oh! Yes, Chevalier.” She nodded quickly, bright eyes looking up at him. “Abigail. Sometimes people call me Abbie.” She noted, as if it mattered to him. In all honesty, the woman hadn’t been referred to as Abbie in over five years.
Taking his hand, she gave it a gentle squeeze as she shook it carefully. He didn’t look fragile by any means, but Abigail was a gentle woman. Another hand softly rested on the back of his, eyes warm and welcoming.
“It’s wonderful to meet you, Dr. Brenner. I’m really grateful for this opportunity.”
❝ right, ❞ was all martin said at the mention of her nickname.
never having been one to use them, the information was irrelevant to
him.---but regardless, his mind filed it away. it had a habit of retaining useless
facts, much to his annoyance.
❝ the name suits you, ❞ he found himself saying. ❝ ---abigail, i mean. ❞
small talk didn't interest him, but he could engage in it when necessary.
for the experiment to be made into a success, he needed to build a trust
with the subjects. especially considering the strain that they would be under.
he didn't need anyone dropping out midway.
martin was surprised by the warmth of her hand when she took his, and he
wondered if her body temperature ran hotter than average or if his fingers
were merely chilled by how cold it tended to get in the building. it was an
odd tangent, but it had crossed his mind none the less.
❝ we’re glad to have you aboard, ❞ he told her, making eye contact with
the woman’s welcoming gaze. it gave him pause, briefly, as he was not used to
receiving that kind of gesture from someone he’d only just met. this woman...
she had a purity about her. he couldn't help but wonder how she ended up
volunteering for such an experiment. her cheery disposition was jarring.
letting go of her hand after what felt like too long, he cleared his throat. ❝ if you
have any questions during the course of the experiment, you can either ask
myself or one of my colleagues. ❞
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