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Wes dropped the box unceremoniously onto the table Valerie was working at with a loud clatter.
"Hey- hey, Watch it!" She barked, dropping her tools, "That equipment's fragile and valuable!"
She ran over to the box, giving it a quick once-over to see if anything had been damaged by the fall. "So help me, Weston, if you broke anything before I've even had a chance to look at it-"
"NEVER-..." He interrupted abruptly; slamming his hand on the table, tone scathing and rife with fury, "Never. Ask me to go there. Ever again."
Before she could even think to chastise or shoot a rebuttal at him, he stormed out of the room, fists balled and teeth set in a snarl.
He hadn't even bothered to give his field report or demand his compensation like he normally did.
Valerie stood in bewilderment for a moment, gaping at the door Wes had just stomped out of.
She thought about going after him, — giving him a piece of her mind, and demand to know what his fucking problem was — but she had more important issues at hand.
Clearly, Wes needed to cool off for a bit. It'd probably be easier to talk to him later, anyway.
And they WOULD be talking, she was not about to take his little outburst standing down, but right now she needed to get these to her dad.
The council had ordered to see progress on their current modifications by the end of the week, and they didn't have much time to lose to infighting. They'd already lost enough as-is waiting for these parts to even get here.
Assholes.
Those pricks knew exactly what they were doing.
With a sigh, she turned her attention back to the box and sifted through the components, taking a quick log of everything that was there before stumbling across an envelope that had been slotted between some of the parts.
The outside was completely blank and unassuming. A plain brown, thin packet with no indication or clue as to what might be written inside.
An oddity, since Mr. Masters usually always signed his notes and labeled each one for easy cross-referencing. The only reason she knew it was from Vlad at all, and not some accidental mix-up with Wes' mail, was because of the little red wax seal sporting Vlad's insignia on the edge of the fold that glued it shut.
It was the end of the world, but of course he still made time for tacky displays of opulence. Valerie could only roll her eyes.
Popping a pocket knife open, she broke the seal and plucked the paper out, expecting notes on the current prototypes and what to look out for.
What greeted her instead was a single, simple sentence written in Vlad's egregiously fancy cursive handwriting that said:
"Do Not Send That Boy Here Again."
She refolded the note, and leaned back in her chair with a grimace.
She was starting to regret choosing Wes to do this errand for her.
He'd mellowed out drastically over the past few years, but suppose that didn't mean he'd fully lost his temper; He could still hold one hell of a mean grudge.
She'd brushed off his initial outburst to the details of this assignment as him being petty and petulant, and hadn't cared so long as it got done quickly.
Clearly that had been her mistake, and was not worth the headache that currently awaited her.
Valerie was probably lucky these parts had even gotten to her at all, all things considered.
She was definitely gonna have to grill Wes for details later.