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“It’s been three weeks since either of you have turned your reports in on time.” Will adjusts his glasses and frowns down his nose at Grell. “Three weeks and thirteen reaps – all of which have been catalogued late. Thanks to you, Grell Sutcliff.”
“I only had five reaps on my list, William,” Grell replies with a flick of her wrist. “Ronnie here had the others…” She flicks her eyes to Ron with a small smirk.
“Oi!” Ron complains.
Will sends Ron a glare that shuts him up quick. His gaze lands back on Grell. “That’s irrelevant.” He pushes his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. “You are the senior agent, Sutcliff. That means it’s your –“
“Responsibility to look after the whelp, yeah, yeah.” Grell rolls her eyes and leans back in her chair with a sigh. “I know the rules, Will.”
“Then follow them.” Will points his scythe threateningly at Ronald, then Grell. “I won’t tolerate any further insubordination.” He leaves the room with a huff. The thud of the door closing behind him echoes.
“Jeez,” Ron mumbles, lips hidden behind his coffee. He looks over at Grell, but she seems less than perturbed. Her eyes are closed and she’s relaxed in her chair with a small smile on her face.
“He’s always trying to ruin our fun, isn’t he?”
Ron scoffs in agreement, eyes rolling. He takes a large gulp of his coffee to keep from saying anything rude.
“I’m going to sit on his dick,” Grell states matter-of-factly.
Coffee sprays out of Ron’s mouth and splatters like rain across the unfinished reports on Grell’s desk.
She cocks an eyebrow at him. “You’re cleaning that up.”