Right now, I wanted to throw him over the nearest balcony and count the seconds until he hit.
“If you actually wanted to understand the hiring process, you’d be asking me.”
Jackson’s hand stilled against his watch.
“You stopped Archibald instead. Which tells me this isn’t about standards. It’s about you deciding he was an easier target. If you have questions about how I run my department, I’m happy to answer them. Otherwise, you’re wasting our time.”
The silence stretched just long enough to make it clear I was waiting for him to leave.
Too bad nobody taught him how to read a fucking room.
“I’m just saying positions like that usually go to people who already understand how things work here, and when they don’t, I’m left to wonder if maybe the department chose to send a message. Optics matter.”
“Optics,” Archie echoed. “You mean the part where I don’t look like I belong here?”
“I mean the part where departments highlight certain narratives. It’s not uncommon. Background, adversity… it all plays well.” Jackson’s mouth curved slightly. “Especially when the candidate doesn’t have much else to stand on.”
“Careful,” I ground out. “You’re getting close to saying something you won’t be able to take back.”
Jackson’s eyes flicked to me. “I’m speaking generally.”
“No. You’re not. You’re implying that I made a hiring decision based on anything other than competence, because that’s easier than accepting you weren’t the strongest candidate.”
Jackson’s fingers curled into his palm, tight enough that the tendons stood out along the back of his hand before he forced them flat again.
“If you want to talk about optics, you can make an appointment to visit my office. Right now, it looks like you stopped someone with less institutional power than you and tried to make him justify his presence. That’s not a good look, Mr. Randolph.”
“I think you’re misunderstanding me. I’m not questioning your decision.”
He lifted a hand, brushing it back through his hair out of habit, the motion stalling slightly when it didn’t move against all the fucking product he had in it.
“I understand now that Archibald was the best candidate for the position. I can’t imagine how that must feel,” he said, glancing at Archie. “Not having answers about your brother.Abel. That kind of thing tends to shape people. Department's notice.”
Archie’s breath stuttered, shoulders pulling tight before he forced them still. The grip he had on his sleeve went rigid, fabric drawn taut between his fingers.
His glasses slipped again, but he didn’t move to fix them.
Not this time.
For a second, he looked…youngerthan he should have.
I didn’t know what the hell Randolph was talking about, but I didn’t need to. Whatever it was, it had no goddamn business being said here.
Not like that.
Not tohim.
“It must completely haunt you, but you’ve handled it so well, haven't you?”
“That’senough,” I spat. “You don’t get to use that.”
“I’m not using anything. I was expressing sympathy.”
Bullshit.
“You were looking for something personal enough to land when everything else didn’t.”
His shoulders drew back a fraction, posture correcting itself like he’d been reminded who he was supposed to be. “I assure you, Professor, that’s not what I’m doing.”