๑ 𝟐 ๑

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𝕃 𝕆 𝕀 𝔻
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"Come on Franky," I sigh. "These numbers are all wrong." I throw the papers on my desk in a fit of anger. This is the fifth time that Franky has given me incorrect reports. At this rate, we'll never finish this project.

"What do you mean, Loid?" Franky asks, snatching the papers off of the desk. "I triple-checked these this time!"

"Well, check them for the fourth time," I suggest. "Do you want me to hand these over to someone else?"

"Come on Loid, there's no need for that," Franky frowns. "I'll get it right this time."

"I hope so," I huff.

"Jeez, ever since Yor left, you've been a real pain in everyone's ass," Franky quickly says under his breath. But it's still loud enough for me to make out every word.

"What was that?" I ask, waiting to see if he'll repeat what he said.

"N-nothing," Franky nervously laughs. "You know me. Just rambling about nothing. Well, I must be going now! I've got some reports to fix!"

I don't say anything as he leaves because he's right. I've turned into a complete dick since Yor and Anya left. It's my fault. I pushed them away. Work became too stressful—hell, it still is. But that's no excuse. I wish I could turn back time and fix everything.

"God I miss them," I mutter, running a hand through my slicked hair.

"Mr. Forger?"

I look up to see my secretary, Crystal, standing in the doorway with two cups of coffee in her hands.

"Hello Crystal," I smile, accepting the coffee. "Where did you get this from? These don't look like the cups from our office."

"There's a cute little cafe at the end of the block. Their drinks are so good, and they're pretty cheap too!" she's giggling as she takes another sip from her cup.

"That's good to hear," I nod. "I'll get our coffee tomorrow then."

"No you don't have to!" she protests. "This is a part of my job."

"I know, but I want to check it out for myself," I say, offering her a reassuring smile. "I might find something new on the menu that I'll like."

"Well if you insist," she grins, taking more sips from her large cup.

"Oh, that reminds me," I say, searching through my endless stacks of paper. "Would you be able to come to my house a few times a week to assist me with calls, meetings, paperwork, etc.?"

"Mr. Forger," she frowns. "That feels a bit inappropriate."

"What do you mean?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

𝐶𝐴𝐿𝑀 𝐵𝐸𝐹𝑂𝑅𝐸  𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑆𝑇𝑂𝑅𝑀 | 𝐹𝑂𝑅𝐺𝐸𝑅 𝐿.Where stories live. Discover now