I nod, a sinking feeling in my gut. Did I get Horace into trouble? I glance behind the broad frame of Mark and there’s Horace with a deep frown and arms crossed.
Is he angry with me?
“Horace is accountable for ensuring what we put out there is in line with the set Infinio style. You seem to think you are above the rules of your manager.”
“Is this about the prototype ideas?” I shuffle my feet and wrap my arms around myself. I messed up already.
“So you’re not denying it.” His eyes bore into me as if he’s trying to read my mind. Did he expect me to lie to him?
“No, it was just a discussion about a prototype. It wasn’t—I didn’t think it was a big deal.”
He presses his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose. His nostrils flare as he inhales deeply. Then he suddenly drops his hand and his eyes snap open, staring me down. He cocks his head, a crease forming between his eyebrows as his gaze flits almost imperceptibly down and up again. I wish I wasn’t wearing this loud yellow dress again now. It’s become my ‘getting told off byMark’ dress.
There’s a small audience forming on the edge of the creative corner. Is he going to yell at me like he did that development lead a few weeks ago?
My heart pounds hard against my ribs, waiting for it. What is he thinking?
He straightens, and his expression relaxes.
“Know your place, Rosemary.” His voice is quiet, but stern. “You are here to learn from Infinio. Do that.”
That’s it?
I expected him to have a go at me. Or at least ask why I shared my ideas.
I open my mouth to say exactly this, but Horace cuts in. “Sorry, Rey, I mustn’t have been clear enough.”
“The rules are clear, Horace,” Mark interjects, looking back at me again. “Some people simply don’t think this is important enough to consider. It’s just a job, right?”
He sends me one last glare, and I feel like a scolded child. He doesn’t know how deep that stare stings me.
With that, he walks away. That straight-backed walk. The tailored charcoal suit hugs his broad frame just right. The people who had gathered scatter like rodents from a cat. Only Horace is left next to me.
“Sorry,” I whisper, looking up at him. His frown is still on his face.
“Don’t be,” he says, his expression relaxing.
“You’re not mad at me?”
“At you? Absolutely not. I’m frustrated with … you know,” he says, jutting his chin towards Mark’s office. “He doesn’t think I’m strict enough with the team.”
“Oh.”
“Rey, I love your art. I was thinking we should try something new today.”
He’s smiling now.
“Horace Lin, what are you up to? Are you trying to get me fired?”
He laughs. “Not at all, but Mark has been in a better than normal mood lately, and I think if we can show him some outstanding examples, he might come around to the idea that Infinio could be more than what Damian created.”
Warmth spreads in my chest at the optimism in Horace’s voice. I study his face and how his eyes light up when he speaks. “You have a vision, don’t you?”
“Sort of. It’s not fully formed, but when I saw your portfolio, something clicked into place.” He indicates for me to follow him. “Those paintings you had, the gouache ones of the planet you’d invented, let’s make a few examples of those.”
My layered forests and landscapes.
“You mean traditionally, not digitally?”
