She grabs what she can, her laptop, her phone, a handful of files, yanking them out of the way of the ever-encroaching spill of coffee now cascading across her desk.
“Tissues– over there, right behind you,” Xu says, and she’s trying really, reallyhard not to snap at him, because he is a president and she is a SeeD and she happens to enjoy her job. She’d like to keep it a while longer.
It’s just an accident, after all.
❛ on it, on it! ❜
HE IS SPRY FOR a man of his age, comfort sandals notwithstanding, rubber soles giving a squeak for the way he turns on a heel, hands flying for the tissue box, cardboard crumpling under his fingers. he rips the tissues out by the fistful, blotting up the pooling coffee as best he can. his shirt is stained but at least the carpet’s fine. a sigh.
❛ ——ah, look, i can pay for any damages. you know, no harm, no gain? ❜
