Tally. Write. Stack. -Tally. Write. Stack. -Tally! Write! Stack! He had taken inventory over a thousand times before so why was it so hard for him now.

Frederick looked over the rows of third-floor candles organized on the staff lounge table. The few hundreds of Stearin candles on the left, the even more numerous and slightly tinted Paraffin waxed on the right, along with the few exceptions of pungent Tallow's they carried. 

Thud

Frederick looked up for the thousandths time, and saw Alice -Miss Kinly- wince, "Sorry." she whispered. Then bent to pick up the book she'd knocked off the shelf. She wiped the spot on the floor where it had landed and then stretched to the space on the shelf where it belonged. Her round face was flush from her work and her hair was more pile then bun. The rhythmic swish of her skirts filled the silence, as she fluttered about the room.  

And that was why Frederick couldn't focus. Since the accident, he did his best to avoid her. He came to realize that the more time he spent in her company the more he lost his control of himself. Frederick didn't like losing control.

But despite his resolve, he was drawn to her. He knew he couldn't rightly accuse her of that, but look at him! Ever since she arrived he'd been having a difficult time focusing on his day-to-day responsibilities. His mind was losing its sharpness. He found himself speaking up far too quickly, it was like he had no filter anymore and thoughts just poured out of his mouth.

And worst of all, the others had noticed. He couldn't count the strange looks he'd gotten from Mrs. Pench every time a word would slip past his defenses when -in a normal state- he would have simply nodded. And then the accident. . . And what came after.

Frederick could have slapped himself five times over. He still couldn't believe he'd almost kissed her. What was the matter with him? Good glory did that wake him up? It proved just how little control he truly had, and only made him determined to regain what he'd lost.

Somehow he managed to spit his apology out and get out of there. And now, with that wake-up call, he made sure to keep himself in check. No more teasing. No more checking in with her. Though he didn't think he could help keep tabs on her. After all, Prescott had asked him to so he would. Strictly out of obedience. 

Frederick focused back on the papers in front of him. Approximately, thirty-six Stearin had been broken this past month and seventy-five were now stubs. He wrote out the proper proceedings, then listed the new amount they would need to acquire to cover up the ones they had lost. He planned to give the slip of paper to Michael when the boy was sent to town on Thursday. Frederick then gathered all his notes on the Stearin and stacked them out of the way before pulling out a clean sheet and starting the tally for the Tallow.

He was almost finished when he heard a soft grunt from across the way, as Alice struggled to reach a high shelf on the other side of the room. Again he looked up and the corner of his mouth unconsciously tipped up.

She tried again then -still not being able to reach it- stepped back and scowled at the self. The same frustrated scowl she was usually aiming at him. He couldn't help but smile. He tried not to but failed miserably.

"Frederick could you-" she turned and caught him. His face fell as did his gaze, "You're smiling." she accused, "You think it's funny that I can't reach the shelf."

"Absurde. I hardly even noticed." he lied. He kept his head down as he scribbled something unreadable on the paper. He glanced up to find her hands on hips, facing him. He felt a laugh rise in his throat and he did everything he could to quench it. What was the matter with him? Frederick quickly hid the evidence by studying his script. But he wasn't fast enough.

"You did it again!" she advanced a step forward.

He shook his head.

"Yes you did, I saw it. You think it's funny that I can't reach the shelf, don't you?" She said again with more emphasis, "Well, Mr long-Legs, next time you hit your head on a doorway I'll be there to laugh!" she would have sounded angry but her own smile was in place.

"I was just about to ask for your help, but now I see that you're much too busy dwelling in your smugness, so I'll leave you to it." she marched over and pulled out a chair from the table, "I'm borrowing this."

Frederick began to stand remembering the last time she balanced on a chair in order to reach something. . .

"Don't judge me," she said as she dragged it across the floor. "A short woman's got to do, what a short woman's got to do." she began to lift herself on top of the thing.

The image of the fresh gash in her head popped into his mind, and before he knew what he was about, the words came tumbling out of his mouth "I'm not that busy, Alice."

Her gaze suddenly darted to his. What? Was she really offended because he almost laughed? Would she really refuse his help?

Wait. . . Tell me I didn't just. . . ALICE?!?

By thunder, he was back to the start! He'd been doing so well. Keeping his mouth shut. Thinking everything through. He had no right to use her given name. She had to be repulsed -at the least startled- at such an inappropriate liberty. But the shock on her face didn't look a thing like disgust, but a lot more like...joy?

Then she smiled. A slow timid curve that scared him even more. He had to get this back to a formal state. With her looking at him like that he could do a lot worse than just say her name. Nope, he had to get out of here, the candles could wait. He opened his mouth to excuse himself but she cut him off.

"Oh good," she continued, "maybe you'll be able to focus on getting some inventory done now that you're done dwelling in your smugness. Don't mind me I'll just be over here, struggling."

"Do you want my help, Miss Kinly? Or shall I leave you to your sulking?" Frederick said bluntly making sure to emphasize the name.

Wait a minute. What am I doing? He was supposed to be leaving! Well, it was too late now. He squared his shoulders and forced his features into stone, hoping she'd get the hint. He wouldn't be playing any more games. 

She eyed him skeptically then, "Help, please." her shoulders sagged a bit.

He came around the table to where she stood. She stepped well out of his way. That's better. Frederick reached up with ease and removed the dishes and picture frames from their perches, handing them one by one to Miss Kinly.

One by one she collected the dust off of them before handing them back and The natural rhythm in which they worked soon put Frederick back at ease.