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Grell slams open the door to Will's office, her spread palm on the wood. "William," she announces, "I need my own office."
Will doesn't look up from his files. "You're in collections, Sutcliff. You'll complete your paperwork in a cubicle like everyone else." Grell makes a noise. Will does look up as she sweeps into the room and slaps her hands down on his desk.
She is wearing her full uniform - for once - and there is just the smallest sliver of pale skin between the cuff of her coat and the edge of her leather glove. Not that Will is looking.
"But William," she gusts, fingers curling against his desk. "A lady needs her privacy."
"For what?" Will asks, poking Grell's finger with his pen. Her hands relax long enough to lull him into a false sense of security; Grell then snatches his pen and points it threateningly at his face.
"For things." Will raises a brow. "William!"
He holds out one hand, palm up. With an annoyed sigh, Grell drops his pen into his hand. Will adjusts his glasses with his free hand and spins his pen once in the other.
"You have a perfectly good desk just outside," he says, pen scritching against paper. "And plenty of paperwork waiting to be completed. Goodbye, Sutcliff."
Grell fumes. "Excuse me? I'm not done yet!"
"I am," Will mutters. He places his pen down and sighs as he raises his eyes to meet Grell's. "Where is this coming from? You've been perfectly fine without your own office for nearly ten years." They both have. Will has only been in this office for a little over two months.
"Well, now I'm not." Grell sniffs and crosses her arms across her chest. "I want an office of my own."
Will studies her curiously. She shifts under the scrutiny, face pinched. "Ah," says Will finally, as realization dawns. He should have known. A smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth entirely unintentionally. Grell's eyes narrow, then skitter away.
"Hmm."
"What?" Grell spits, defensive. Her shoulders hunch and her eyes lock onto Will's. "Don't hum at me like that."
"Like what?" Will replies placidly, if a little smug.
"You know."
That smirk curls one corner of his mouth. "I believe I do know." Grell's left eye twitches. "You, Grell Sutcliff," her eye twitches again, a knee-jerk reaction when someone uses her full name in that tone of voice, "are jealous."
Grell's mouth drops open, fury and embarrassment warring for the most prominent emotion on her face. "Jealous?" she splutters, one hand touching her chest. "Me? Of what?"
Will leans back slightly and gestures with one hand around his office. "This." He fights to keep his expression neutral. "You never could let me be ahead, could you? That I received my own office and you have not must be eating away at you."
"That is not true!" Grell argues, cheeks heating. "I just - I think it's fair if – I only –." She stutters into silence and Will watches her, his amusement ever growing.
"Admit it." Grell's head whips around to face him. "Admit that you're jealous."
She tosses her hair. "I will not."
"Then leave."
"William!" Grell stomps her foot, frustrated. "I am not jealous, you stuffy brute. I think I deserve an office just as much as you do!"
"Hm, so you admit I do deserve an office." Will folds his hands in front of him and rests his chin on them.
"You," Grell grits between clenched teeth, clearly frazzled, "are the most infuriating man I have ever had the misfortune of knowing."
"I'm only asking that you admit what we both already know," Will says simply. "Admit your jealousy and perhaps I will speak to someone about your desire for an office."
Will can see the idea turning over in Grell's mind. If she admits she's jealous, her pride will suffer and he knows she doesn't want that. If she doesn't admit she's jealous, she'll never get what she wants, even if she only wants it because Will has it.
"I," Grell starts, still through clenched teeth, "am...jealous."
"Of?" Will presses. Usually he wouldn't allow himself to be needlessly inflammatory. No need to poke the bear, as they say. He just can't help himself this time. He doesn't think Grell has ever been jealous of him before and he doubts it will ever happen again. He may as well savor it.
Grell looks like she's in pain as she spits the words past her teeth. "You, you smug prick."
Will sits back with a sigh, a faint smile on his face. "Thank you." He adjusts his glasses and points toward the door. "Dismissed."
Grell is fairly vibrating with rage. She spins on her heel and storms out of the room in a swish of red hair and rose perfume, muttering all the while.
Will hears clattering and raised voices a moment later as Grell takes her frustration out on the nearest reaper. He allows himself a smile as he lifts his phone to his ear. "Hello, this is William T. Spears. Yes. I'd like to request an office space..."