Story about a handsome scientist that gets a new job and finds love. (Part 1)

“What’s that shit on your face?” Casey swiped his fingers on both hands underneath his blue eyes. “It’s my new eye cream, maybe I have too much of it on.” He rubbed in the area in gentle sweeps outwards, the way the sales lady at Kiehl’s taught him. Use the ringer finger because it’s the gentlest, she said. And go outwards and up, you’d want to go in the opposite direction of the wrinkles to cancel them out. When he heard this spiel, he tried his best not to roll his eyes, and instead mimicked her motion to let her know he understood. What does that lady know about the epidermis anyway? It’s all just collagen break down — doesn’t really matter which direction I rub it in. Nonetheless, he regrets not a rubbing the cream in for long enough, as his new colleague pointed out. She wasn’t one to be polite, can’t afford to be in this man-centric world.

When she saw Casey at the interview, she was impressed by his ability to spout off on enzyme kinetics, and her team really needed help, fast. It’s getting to be the trail end of the biotech bubble, and she was tasked with pulling off what she would call a miracle — pushing the enzyme evolution when the rest of the pharma world are distracted by “precise medicine” and “immunotherapy.” Buzz words by her count, but she’s a believer in good old fashion biochemistry, though she did not expect her mission to be carried out along side the pretty boy in front of her.

“I didn’t know that men use eye cream.” “It’s never too early to start moisturizing!” It’s been only a week since Casey started, and he didn’t want to make any enemies. His mind jumped to Cassandra from Dr. Who, an evolved human who has transcended her bipedal form into only a stretched out piece of skin. “Moisturize me!” He thought to himself, though he hesitated to make that reference with his new colleague. Gotta be mature, and who the hell knows if she even knows what Dr. Who is. “Well watch out and don’t get it on our microscopes ok? The eye pieces are dirty enough as they are.” She swiveled in her chair closer to the screen, squinting at the numbers on display. “What are you trying to show me again?”