Kiss With A Fist

"...is there a problem, Mr. Adler?" She purrs, smiling genially.

 

"... Your project?"

 

"Hm? Yes, my project." She clicks the end of her pen and tucks it behind her ear. "In order to ensure adequate results."

 

"Was there... a problem with my results?"

 

"Hm? No," she replies, brows arched. "Unless you have something you need to admit to, Adler?"

 

He snarls, before he can get his expression under control. "Of course not."

He... she's just... taking it?

This is his project. It's his.

 

"Something wrong?" She smiles.

 

"... nothing." He growls.

 

"Good to hear. Are you working on an assay, or something else?"

 

"Yes." He pushes a sheaf of papers across the table without looking up.

 

She flips through them, expression intent as she reads. "...interesting. Where's the rest of your documentation?"

 

"It's documented on the corporate network."

 

"Did I ask for the copy you gave to corporate, or did I ask for your documentation, Adler?" Her tone goes sharp, and her pretty eyes go dark as she looks up at him.

 

He stares back at her, eyes dark. "And why would there be a difference, Douglas?"

 

"That's Doctor Douglas, Adler." Her eyes narrow. "And because I expect more than the details distilled for our corporate overhead."

 

He growls quietly, under his breath. "Doctor Douglas, it's all on the network."

 

"Then I fail to see why you should be so resistant about showing me your physical notations," her eyes narrow.

"I don't care how minor."

 

He glares and opens a drawer full of papers.

"I prefer to type."

 

"I still expect to see your personal copies."

 

He growls, digging in the drawer for a flash drive, and shoving it at her.