Mr. Yang crossed his arms. "Workspace?"

"Wh – yeah," Matthew explained. "'Playroom' sounds...childish, for lack of a better word. 'Workspace' gives it a more 'grown-up' vibe, especially when they...you know, do inevitably grow up."

"And where will the children keep their toys?" he asked, tipping his head back just enough to stare Matthew down.

"Oh, they'd stay here," he replied unfazed. "They'll be tucked more out of the way. Ideally, I'd like this room to become a place for them to...create, if that makes sense. To..." Matthew licked his lips in contemplation, only to lick away a combination of sweat, dust, and something that tasted like bleach. "...focus messy activities into one spot." Wiping his brow with his arm, Matthew glanced around. "We're not even close to finishing, but... we've made decent headway." He turned back and offered Mr. Yang a hesitant smile.

The older man glared as if displeased by Matthew's response. "Hm," was all he said, though this one seemed slower, more thoughtful, even.

Matthew took in a breath, the cleaning fumes still swirling around his head. His smile fell. "I, assume you've come to tell me that the assessment is over?"

"Indeed," he answered, swinging his arms to behind his back. "Your time is up."

He swallowed, eyes dropping to the floor. "Can I...can you tell me the results?"

"No."

Matthew nodded, taking in a slow breath. "Well, then...thank you for your consideration. I, just...need to wash my hands, and then I'll be off."

"I don't have the results."

Clenching his jaw, he narrowed his eyes.

"Because it's not my place to tell you." Mr. Yang slipped passed him, his decorated slippers squeaking on the wet floor.

He turned.

The older man squatted in front of his daughter. "Lilliana, Elliot, what do you think?"

"I like him! I liked him before, too!" she giggled, bouncing slightly. "We're, we're fixing the fireplace together!" Her arm waved, finger pointed to the now-cleared fireplace hearth. "And when it snows, Matt says we're can make s' mores in it! Like in the movies! And, and he said if we do a good job here, he'll help get the fireplace in my room working so I can have a fire in it!"

"Look at all this moooooolld!" Elliot screamed, tipping the plastic bin into the playroom. A puff of spore smoke, one skull, a jawbone, two beaks, and three smaller bones tumbled out. "The last nannies wouldn't let me touch the stuff!"

"Now, guys, I want you to think very, very seriously about this. How would you feel if Matthew was your nanny?" Mr. Yang asked.

Matthew shivered from his name being said so casually. He could also tell there was a softness in the man's voice, this warm tone of genuine love and earnestness directed at the children. Even turned away, he could hear Mr. Yang's smile; he held his breath. Something about it curdled his stomach. Something about it made him yearn. It felt wrong to him.

"Yaaaaaay!" Lilly threw up her hands and spun.

"Matt! Matt!" Elliot trotted over to him, stepping on a bone in the process. "Can we go to the creek tomorrow if the weather's good?" He grabbed Matthew's hand and shook it. "You said we could! Can we? I want to find that wart!"

"Ooo! Ooo!" Lilly grabbed his other hand and shook it. "Can we take a picnic? I love picnics, and so does Mr. Auborine! But we need cake!" She leaned over and, looking her father dead in the eyes, asked, "Daddy, do we have any more of that raspberry cake? Because that one was gross and I want blueberry next time."

Mr. Yang stood, smoothing out the creases in his suit. Turning on his heels, the older man stared, hands clasped behind his back, his characteristic frown returning. "Would you be interested in the nanny position, Mr. Robinson? On a trial basis to start, of course."

Something inside Matthew swelled, suffocating him. He could've easily cried right there. Blinking it back and swallowing the desire to scream in delight, Matthew cleared his throat and whispered, "...if you'll have me."

Mr. Yang's eyes narrowed, the corners of his mouth twitching into the hints of an annoyed frown. "Wonderful."