Office Antics

I

On his last day in the HR department, Jackson gets a paper ball to the face from the adjacent cubicle's owner. He ignores it, barely flinching when another one comes over and smacks him.

He hisses. "Mark, for the love of food you're not supposed to put bloody paperweights in these things." He bends down and hurls the paper ball with the paperweight balled in it rather forcefully to Mark Tuan's face.

Enter Mark Tuan. He has a face for the publicity department but was forced into the HR department because god knows why.

He cackles exactly seven times (Jackson doesn't know why either, but Mark has this irritating habit of doing everything in sevens. He sprays himself with forty-nine puffs of cologne before he leaves for the office (as shared one dreary lunchtime), flushes the toilet seven times (management has been on his case for a very long time) and never spends more or less than fourteen dollars at lunch. Still he has at least three women throwing themselves at his feet.

The result of cackling seven times leaves Mark sounding like a dying hyena.

"Lay off him, Yi En," Zitao drawls from across the office, giving Jackson a pained look before he smirks lazily. Everyone in this department has severe mental problems. "It's his last day here, after all."

Mark pretends to wipe a tear. "Boohoo. This is so depressing." He crashes towards Jackson with puppy eyes before withdrawing with a snarky grin. This snarky grin. The one which makes his face oh-so-slappable.

Jackson rolls his eyes. "Thanks. I can feel your sadness."

Mark smiles warmly for the first time in months since they've met and claps him on the back. "Have fun." He tosses his chin to the cubicle diagonal to his and pulls a face. Jackson sees the message in his face. Thank God you're getting away from that girl.

He lets his eyes linger on Seulgi for a good few seconds before he nods firmly, authoratively. "Yeah...thanks." He isn't very sure what he's thanking Mark for, and he wasn't brought up to thank people for nothing, but he lets it pass.

He turns, "I should go now," he mutters apologetically, giving Mark one last flick on his forehead when the younger man shrugs dismissively. "Respect your elders, brat," ignoring Mark's protest that he's older than Jackson (he is, but he won't say that.)

Taking one last look around his department, memorizing every area of his office, trying to imprint them on his eyes, he cracks a tired smile. "Bye, guys."