[TM] 236 - What Does Respect Mean To You?
“With all due respect, Detective Jackson-”
“Respect?” Artie snorted, narrowing his eyes at the younger PI standing in front of his desk, fighting as hard as he could not to quake in his penny loafers. “Son, you wouldn’t know respect if it leapt up, bit you on the ass, and did a fandance for good measure.”
“Detective...in the five months I’ve been a member of your team, when have I *ever* shown you anything but respect as a fellow Paranormal and a superior officer?”
Shifting, Artie rose from his seat slowly. “I’ll tell you what I’ve seen, Inspector Sorel,” he drawled, “a lot of brown nosing and a lot more subordination. You’re lucky all I’m doing is firing you.”
“Insubordination?!?”
“Yes, insubordination...what, is there an echo in here or something?” he bit off peevishly. The kid was being an idiot on purpose in an effort to save his job, and it was pissing him off. “Frankly, I’m still trying to figure out exactly what kind of a fool you take me for. Sure, you’re very complimentary, but kissing my scrawny ass is not respect. Respect is shutting up when I tell you to instead of preening for a reporter’s camera. Respect is sending new evidence to the detectives and PI’s it belongs to, rather than handing it off to me and trying to pass the work off as your own.”
“You have no grounds to make those kind of allegations!”
“I got plenty. You leaked information on the Spartan case that we were holding back for the tip line. It almost cost us the conviction, and all because that damn Metro reporter for the Herald. Maybe next time someone wants to make you listen, they need a nice rack, a low cut shirt, and a good push up bra.”
“That’s disgusting!”
“You’re disgusting. Get out of my office.”
“Detective-”
“I’m sorry, did you mistake that for a request?”
He watched with no small measure of satisfaction as the other man walked away and out of the squad room. Artie couldn’t have been more relieved if he were dying of hunger and someone offered him a vein...the miserable little suck up had been annoying him for far too long, and his latest escapade in rerouting evidence to his boss for a promotion was the last Artie was about to tolerate.
Firing Sorel, however, did leave him without a halfway decent kinetic on his team...and the only thing he hated more than a brown noser was trying to find someone to promote from within.
He was just picking up the phone to call down to CSU for a list of names ready for promotion when Joe came to his desk, white as a sheet as he informed him that Theresa Riordan had just been found dead a short distance away...
Muse: Artie Jackson
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 485
“Respect?” Artie snorted, narrowing his eyes at the younger PI standing in front of his desk, fighting as hard as he could not to quake in his penny loafers. “Son, you wouldn’t know respect if it leapt up, bit you on the ass, and did a fandance for good measure.”
“Detective...in the five months I’ve been a member of your team, when have I *ever* shown you anything but respect as a fellow Paranormal and a superior officer?”
Shifting, Artie rose from his seat slowly. “I’ll tell you what I’ve seen, Inspector Sorel,” he drawled, “a lot of brown nosing and a lot more subordination. You’re lucky all I’m doing is firing you.”
“Insubordination?!?”
“Yes, insubordination...what, is there an echo in here or something?” he bit off peevishly. The kid was being an idiot on purpose in an effort to save his job, and it was pissing him off. “Frankly, I’m still trying to figure out exactly what kind of a fool you take me for. Sure, you’re very complimentary, but kissing my scrawny ass is not respect. Respect is shutting up when I tell you to instead of preening for a reporter’s camera. Respect is sending new evidence to the detectives and PI’s it belongs to, rather than handing it off to me and trying to pass the work off as your own.”
“You have no grounds to make those kind of allegations!”
“I got plenty. You leaked information on the Spartan case that we were holding back for the tip line. It almost cost us the conviction, and all because that damn Metro reporter for the Herald. Maybe next time someone wants to make you listen, they need a nice rack, a low cut shirt, and a good push up bra.”
“That’s disgusting!”
“You’re disgusting. Get out of my office.”
“Detective-”
“I’m sorry, did you mistake that for a request?”
He watched with no small measure of satisfaction as the other man walked away and out of the squad room. Artie couldn’t have been more relieved if he were dying of hunger and someone offered him a vein...the miserable little suck up had been annoying him for far too long, and his latest escapade in rerouting evidence to his boss for a promotion was the last Artie was about to tolerate.
Firing Sorel, however, did leave him without a halfway decent kinetic on his team...and the only thing he hated more than a brown noser was trying to find someone to promote from within.
He was just picking up the phone to call down to CSU for a list of names ready for promotion when Joe came to his desk, white as a sheet as he informed him that Theresa Riordan had just been found dead a short distance away...
Muse: Artie Jackson
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 485