 Ama!Nabs IS NAMED MINHO & Is SO Black Panther Right Now
"I don't slouch," he protested in a low voice, one large hand on the back of his neck, massaging the skin there rather forcefully as he pursed his lips in thought in Mona's general direction. "Much." Glancing over his shoulder as her shadow hung over the threshold of the break room's door, Ian resisted the urge to swat her away from his safe place.
Total invasion of privacy.
"Well," he drawled, leaning back as he fiddled with the empty (and dirty) coffee pot to glance around Quigley's form at the nearly empty work area. "I don't think there's much work for me to do right now." It was his motto--not to work unless Getti inadvertently called him Mona and asked about the advertisement contracts.
Sorrowfully, he grunted at Mona's last comment, as he eyed the jar of cheap coffee grinds. He wouldn't even feed his dog this brand. That is, if he had a dog. "I'm a photojournalist," quipped Ian tapping the I.D. attached to the front of his navy robes. I'm not your coffee boy, Mona. You can get the newbies to do that for you! You have no respect for me or my work or for what I stand for! You're insolent and unappreciative! I ought to-- "One sugar, heavy on the milk and a hazelnut, milk four sugars?"
Ian nearly sighed at the end of that sentence but he was pathetic enough without the sound effects. Inwardly, he kicked himself on the rear. Playing with dimensional distortions was so much better than fetching caffeine for his female superiors. |