Work Text:
Lyle sat at his desk, shuffling through papers. Ah, he’d have to send his team to Claudia’s house tomorrow. And it looked like Kyle was also due in for another appointment. His boss, Tom Nook, nodded at him as he began to close up shop.
“Don’t stay here too long. We don’t want to give the impression that we are open past eight, now would we?” Nook said cheerfully, tossing Lyle the key. Lyle managed to catch it, but almost fell out of his chair in the process. He pulled himself upright, grinning sheepishly.
“Course not,” replied Lyle. “Never do. Not fifteen minutes longer. Gotta finish these papers. They’re bustin’ my chops.”
When Nook left, Lyle looked back down at his reports. He didn’t plan on staying too long. He’d have to be up at five in the morning to direct his team in their round of evaluations. Lyle was, as usual, finding himself a bit reluctant to head on home. Work was comforting. His reports reminded him that he had really made something of himself. He’d worked hard to get where he was. It was a good, honest living. For once.
When he left the building for the night, the sun still glazed the summer sky, casting the heavens in a bluish green. Lyle waved at Francine, who was emerging from the clothing shop. She frowned at him for half a second, during which Lyle’s heart filled with worry, before she smiled and waved back. He sighed with relief and continued on his way.
Like many of the merchants, he lived to the west of the main village, following the railroad tracks. It was where the older residents of the small town lived to avoid the hustle and bustle of the newer villagers, in a constant flux in and out of the town. They, the merchants, were a staple of the town, its backbone and organs. They required more stability then the younger generation provided and were content to suffer a little walk to and from work each day.
A little exercise never hurt nobody, Lyle thought. And he’d had much of it, despite what his meek frame suggested. Momentarily, he remembered his days of moving secret shipments in silence, of the occasional quick getaways he’d had to make, sometimes while still dragging along a particularly expensive parcel. Chasing down Redd’s customers for insurance money. Worse yet, he’d remembered the times digging, deep, deep into the dead of night, for quite another bounty. He shook the memories from his head.
He came here with a new life, a new outlook. Things changed. People no longer gave him funny looks or dodged behind trees to avoid eye contact with him. He was the director of the small-town branch of the Happy Homes Academy. For the first time in his life, he was proud to be Lyle. His dear ma and pa would have rejoiced at his newfound life choices. And that was the most important thing about it: it was his choice now. Involuntary community service, and then he’d accepted it. He’d worked hard for it. Busted his chops, and here he was. Clean, going on the straight-and-narrow, happy.
But somewhere, deep in the back of Lyle’s mind, was the fear that he would lose all that he’d worked for, someday. Life was never good to Lyle for long.