[OPEN... kinda. READ THE NOTES] Even the sun and the light of the day...

[requiem_no_ame]

Characters: Lightning Farron, Superbi Squalo, anyone in the Watch HQ's who wants to point-and-laugh/etc.
Location: Watch HQ's
Rating: PG-13, R-ish for Squalo's mouth.
Time: December 28th, 2009
Description: Squalo caught a cold and still went to work in the morning, because there's still fuckton of paperwork to do. Lightning disagrees and... deals

Comments

[thewarisover]

Roy stepped out of his office at that moment, looking like he was going out for a bit of air. The Meister lifted an eyebrow at the stack Squalo had been eyeing, then smiled in the other man's direction.

"I distinctly remember that stack being significantly smaller this morning."

[requiem_no_ame]

Squalo stopped writing mid-word, grind his teeth and finished the sentence, very pointedly dotting the is, before he put the paper in the "out" tray and glared at Mustang.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" He growled... or purred, his tone was just the tiniest bit off, so it was hard to pin down. And he might be glaring a few inches to the side, not at Mustang proper.

[thewarisover]

"It means that you're doing a stellar job as always." A beat. "I'm over here, by the way."

[requiem_no_ame]

There was a moment of silence as Squalo blinked terribly slowly, before turning to where Mustang was, by degrees. Then he scowled and pretended those fifteen seconds hadn't happened. Lunch had settled in quite well, actually, but he felt... sluggish. He blamed it on the cold, mostly.

"I know that," he deadpanned, glaring twice as hard at the smug son of a bitch.

[thewarisover]

"I'm sure you did."

Amiable, as always!

[requiem_no_ame]

Squalo hated being sick, it always made him feel slow. But at least paperwork was tedious and to a point mindless, he could just focus on that since it didn't really require higher thought. He blinked again, as if trying to dispel the annoying sheen behind his eyes.

"...well?" He asked, more sullen than anything else, scowling at Mustang.

That paperwork wasn't going to sort itself on its own, and Mustang was just wasting his time. The tendril of irritation was a muted wisp that almost didn't reach the surface of his mind. He wanted to go back to work and be done with it so he could go grab a nap. Naps were always excellent when it came to putting his head back in order.

[thewarisover]

"Well, why aren't you taking a break?"

He did look like he needed it. By, you know, not actually knowing where Roy was the first time around.

[requiem_no_ame]

Squalo gave Mustang a flat stare a tad longer than strictly necessary to make his point, then rolled his eyes so hard it almost made a sound and turned back to the piece of paper in front of me.

"Oh, piss off," he muttered with a shake of his head.

What was with people being busy bodies about his health today?

[thewarisover]

"And then you complain that I work you too hard."

The irony of the situation is not lost on him. Nope.

[requiem_no_ame]

"That's because you do, you unscropelus bastard." A pause. "Unscrupelous. Unscrubelous. Unscrupulous."

Goddamnit, words. Words are hard, man.

[thewarisover]

"Do you need to check a dictionary for that?"

You had to hand it to Roy: he was excellent at sounding sincere even when you knew that he sure as hell wasn't.

[requiem_no_ame]

"If I have to get up this chair to throttle you for half an hour, I'm not going to finish this on time," Squalo deadpanned, because even sick and high as a kite, the deadpan remains. "And then I'll have to throttle you some more until your head falls off. So, piss off, Mustang."

[thewarisover]

"See, the lovely thing about this is you're always making threats, yet never quite acting on them. It does make me wonder if it's because you've come to, heaven forbid, like me."

Jerking Squalo's chain was one of Roy's favorite past times...

[requiem_no_ame]

This is a stapler.

This is a stapler sailing across the distance, aiming for your head.

This is the stapler that symbolizes Squalo's patience audibly snapping.

"VOOOII, LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE ALREADY, I HAVE WORK TO DO!

Of course everything would be a lot more dramatic if Squalo's aim weren't so lousy to begin with, and he weren't high as a kite, so instead of standing up in a flurry of angry swordsman, he more or less stumbled into an upward state, glowering, again, about two feet to the left where you actually are.

[thewarisover]

That only resulted in Roy blinking, looking surprised.

"Your aim is even more off than usual these days. You sure you're not sick?"

[requiem_no_ame]

Squalo let out a wordless sound of irritation and proceeded to have a nice profanity meltdown.

In all seven languages he knew.