Charles stared at Simon blankly for a few moments, unable to say a word. There was no way he really caught on that easily. He was probably just joking. How could Simon see him at one glance, and decide he was there in disguise? That was just plain impossible. “Disguise?” He finally asked, finding the right words. “Yeah. Just look at you.” “I don't know what you're talking about.” Charles replied, going back to the grass he was trimming. “You think you can trick me, eh? You're no lawn mower. Look at the crappy way you're trimming the grass. You think anyone can be a lawn mower because it's a kind of underrated job here? Who are you?” Simon insisted, moving even closer to Charles. “You keep saying words I don't understand, and you're bothering me. I'm trying to concentrate here.” “You're someone else. I know it.” “I'm not anyone else. I'm just Andrews Jacob who's seeking employment.” Charles snapped, accidentally taking out his frustration, and fear on the grasses, and cutting them in a more crappy manner. “No way. Look at those hands. So smooth that I bet a single bump won't hit my hand if I rubbed it against it. Look at those palms, too. They look really smooth, and soft. If you've really been dealing with this job, then you don't get to have your hands as pretty as that.” Simon pointed out, caressing his old, rough, and overworked hands. “You're also holding your equipment wrong. Look at the way you speak. You speak in an elite fashion. Tell me, you ran from your parents, didn't you?” Simon added, sticking a finger out at him, and Charles stopped. Ran from his parents? Was that what Simon thought? Maybe because Simon was old, he didn't know that kids around Charles' age were technically not kids, and didn't live with parents. But, if that's what he perceived Charles as, it was better than him thinking he was undercover. “I knew it!” Simon exclaimed, jumping. He was quite bright, and bubbly for his age. “I'm not a kid who ran from…”“All these rich kids who think they're ready to take out their parents who've been their backbone. They think it's easy to work, and make it. You had better return to your parents, Andrews…” “Do I really look…” “There was someone just like you. He left after the first day.” Simon told him, then cackled in laughter, and Charles gave a fake, and forced laugh in return, turning back to his grasses, and wishing Simon would just get off his back, and stop suspecting him. “You see? That's funny. It's what will happen to you, too.” Simon added with a smile. “No. I'm staying here.” Charles replied, returning Simon's smile with a bright, and fake one of his. It was better if Simon saw Charles as the kid who ran away from his parents in his mind, but Charles was still going to deny it. “What did your parents do to you, eh?” “I didn't run from any parents. I was just seeking employment.” “You're too handsome for me to believe it.” All day, Simon pestered Charles about being a runaway ingrate, and Charles kept on denying it, but it seemed like Simon had little to do, as he kept on obsessing over proving Charles was a runaway son. ~ When Charles got home, the first thing he did was going up to his room, and fall on his bed. A thrill of delight ran down his spine, and he shuddered. He had bent his back all day, and his hands had worked tirelessly, even though Simon had pointed out how useless they were at trimming grasses. He could see why the runaway boy, Simon had mentioned, had run away. The work was quite demanding. Charles slept, and when he awoke, he searched up videos teaching on how to trim grass the right way, and uniquely. He watched those videos late into the night, trying to absorb every information, and even practiced on his lawn. Because, if his colleague could notice he wasn't doing it right at first glance, then anyone would notice, even if it wasn't at first glance. And that would be risking the job, which he couldn't afford. However, the next day, Charles thought he had improved, only for Simon to push him aside, and try to mend the mistakes he had made. He didn't spend the day as an employee, but as Simon's trainee. He kept on making mistakes, despite the countless videos he had watched the previous night. By the time they had their break hour, Charles was exhausted, and famished. At a nearby restaurant, they ordered bowls of pasta to gobble up, and waited patiently. Immediately the pasta was brought, Simon began to rage on, and on about the company. “They never treat us to dinner, instead they treat us like trash. One dinner! Just one! We would like that. We understand they might be a little busy for lunch, but dinner is something every company should consider even once! Why do we have to buy our meals all the time?” He grumbled as he kept on rolling a huge amount of pasta onto his fork. “And they're quite expensive too.” He lamented in a kind of high-pitched tone that surprised Charles. “They treat employees like trash?” Charles asked, trying to sound innocent, as he watched Simon stuff the pasta into his mouth. “They do dirty business.” Simon spat with his mouth full of pasta. “Most of the time, we get our pay taken out of. They do not pay us well, other times, they delay it, yet you see all of them riding expensive cars, and buying new ones. “Why can't they just sell one of those good, old cars, and share the money among the employees? That would be well appreciated.” He continued to complain, spitting out specks of chewed pasta, and Charles tried hard to protect his food because he was starving, and wouldn't want to ditch it because someone spat their mouth content into it. Simon continued to rage, and complain about the company, and Charles took note of everything, absorbing the information like he was a sponge, and pushing Simon to say more. Simon was only too happy to divulge more of the information he knew, and Charles nodded to everything, urging him to go on. After Lunch, they headed back to the company, and as they made their way to the lawn, they walked into the wife of Mr. Lincoln who was passing by with some people. And as she saw Charles, she stopped. She tilted her head slightly, and squinted her eyes. His face… his face rang a bell. He looked very familiar.