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Description
Jennivien hesitated, her finger resting over the small red button, she had flipped away the safety bracket preventing any accidental or premature pressing but now at the eleventh hour she found herself hesitant to press it.
Over the last four days she had seen her boss undergo a metaphasis, and not in a particularly healthy way if she was to be any judge of the situation. Shifting the documents in her arm her eyes flicked over to the many documented cases. It was, well organized, perhaps a touch on the blunt side, but the data was there, but was there enough to press the button. Once pushed there was no going back, and she and her boss both knew this. Perhaps that was why he had instructed her to keep him away from that button at all cost until his head had cooled.

‘I need be like Tree Beard, douse myself under a waterfall until I have cooled and am in full control of my emotional spectrum before I take any action, least I speak hastily. God forbid.’

With that Jennivien had watched him work with such a fever that would make a Kornate berserker swoon, pulling information from across the network, person, place, time, date, what was said, who said, it, confirmation of different sources, back checking. And writing it all up in a legal format. He had been doing so for the last few hours, only stopping at her insistence to take a break and try and lower his blood pressure. Something Jennivien was becoming more and more concerned about.

She had seen him on one of those breaks, the faint sound of cello music drifting from his earbuds, as he staired intently at the picture of deep forest reaching out to the horizon. These calming tactics she knew, and knew as well it would be very unwise to disturb him during his twenty minutes of meditation.

What was concerning was his chest, his breathing was off, something she had learned noticed – it was a tick, a involuntary reaction that she had noticed and logged over a year ago, when she had seen him pushed to the limit of his temperament.

A long slow inhalation through the nose, eyes closed as he held the breath, and then over the course of a five second pause he would tilt his head slight upwards and exhale through his nose before opening his eyes again and returning his attention to the painting. It was moments like these that she wished Sirse was still around, there was something deeply unsettling about someone of her bosses size fighting to keep his temper in check. Fighting, winning, but to her it seemed he was holding on by his fingernails on several occasions.

He never raised his voice, never made any sudden motions, but the signs were all there if one were looking, the slight tremor of the hands, the way those hands closed to fists when he was thinking intently, only to spring open again the second he recognized they had changed configuration. That and the sudden need to work, work was his distraction, a tool he used to keep his mind occupied and slow the burn.

On the third day he had pulled her aside and had asked her to join him in the office, leaving the door open. Her tail had fluffed, and she had wondered if that was his polite way of offering her a clear means of escape, or if she should have started waring a 50. Caliber hand cannon under her arm just in case. Instead, he just sat there, eyes closed the entire time, body ridged as he did nothing but breath for almost a half a minute. She was about to leave when he finally spoke.

‘Mênis.’

Jennivien frowned it was not a word she understood, seeming to sense this, her boss smiled and added.

‘It means rage, or, to be more precise an uncontrollable rage, hatred unbound on a fundamental level where in someone has wronged you.’

‘I see.’ She had managed, eyes never leaving his.

‘My father taught me at a young age, whenever we played any game there was one simple rule: Never get angry – if your opponent can provoked you, then you have lost game.’ He frowned, eyes opening. ‘Jennivien, I am angry, and my anger has not dissipated after three days.’

She nodded, not sure what to say, thankfully he continued before she had to say anything.

‘I am sure that in a weeks time this will pass, but so will a singular opportunity.’ He drew in a long breath. ‘This is where the paths diverge, on one side, I have a trusted acquaintance who I work with, who insists that legal action could be taken for a swift resolution of the offending individual. The second, believe that his can be handled in house, via politics, and polite conversation. The first is of greater risk, greater reward, and greater satisfaction, while the second a lesser victory, lesser satisfaction, but less risk.’

Gesturing to the table he motioned to a small pile of paperwork carefully typed out and organized into three sub stacks.

‘I have a favor, please read through these and make sure that, well, how would my old economics professor put it: ‘Make sure these will not burn the devils fingertips.’ If you would? Thank you.’

Description
Jennivien hesitated, her finger resting over the small red button, she had flipped away the safety bracket preventing any accidental or premature pressing but now at the eleventh hour she found herself hesitant to press it.
Over the last four days she had seen her boss undergo a metaphasis, and not in a particularly healthy way if she was to be any judge of the situation. Shifting the documents in her arm her eyes flicked over to the many documented cases. It was, well organized, perhaps a touch on the blunt side, but the data was there, but was there enough to press the button. Once pushed there was no going back, and she and her boss both knew this. Perhaps that was why he had instructed her to keep him away from that button at all cost until his head had cooled.

‘I need be like Tree Beard, douse myself under a waterfall until I have cooled and am in full control of my emotional spectrum before I take any action, least I speak hastily. God forbid.’

With that Jennivien had watched him work with such a fever that would make a Kornate berserker swoon, pulling information from across the network, person, place, time, date, what was said, who said, it, confirmation of different sources, back checking. And writing it all up in a legal format. He had been doing so for the last few hours, only stopping at her insistence to take a break and try and lower his blood pressure. Something Jennivien was becoming more and more concerned about.

She had seen him on one of those breaks, the faint sound of cello music drifting from his earbuds, as he staired intently at the picture of deep forest reaching out to the horizon. These calming tactics she knew, and knew as well it would be very unwise to disturb him during his twenty minutes of meditation.

What was concerning was his chest, his breathing was off, something she had learned noticed – it was a tick, a involuntary reaction that she had noticed and logged over a year ago, when she had seen him pushed to the limit of his temperament.

A long slow inhalation through the nose, eyes closed as he held the breath, and then over the course of a five second pause he would tilt his head slight upwards and exhale through his nose before opening his eyes again and returning his attention to the painting. It was moments like these that she wished Sirse was still around, there was something deeply unsettling about someone of her bosses size fighting to keep his temper in check. Fighting, winning, but to her it seemed he was holding on by his fingernails on several occasions.

He never raised his voice, never made any sudden motions, but the signs were all there if one were looking, the slight tremor of the hands, the way those hands closed to fists when he was thinking intently, only to spring open again the second he recognized they had changed configuration. That and the sudden need to work, work was his distraction, a tool he used to keep his mind occupied and slow the burn.

On the third day he had pulled her aside and had asked her to join him in the office, leaving the door open. Her tail had fluffed, and she had wondered if that was his polite way of offering her a clear means of escape, or if she should have started waring a 50. Caliber hand cannon under her arm just in case. Instead, he just sat there, eyes closed the entire time, body ridged as he did nothing but breath for almost a half a minute. She was about to leave when he finally spoke.

‘Mênis.’

Jennivien frowned it was not a word she understood, seeming to sense this, her boss smiled and added.

‘It means rage, or, to be more precise an uncontrollable rage, hatred unbound on a fundamental level where in someone has wronged you.’

‘I see.’ She had managed, eyes never leaving his.

‘My father taught me at a young age, whenever we played any game there was one simple rule: Never get angry – if your opponent can provoked you, then you have lost game.’ He frowned, eyes opening. ‘Jennivien, I am angry, and my anger has not dissipated after three days.’

She nodded, not sure what to say, thankfully he continued before she had to say anything.

‘I am sure that in a weeks time this will pass, but so will a singular opportunity.’ He drew in a long breath. ‘This is where the paths diverge, on one side, I have a trusted acquaintance who I work with, who insists that legal action could be taken for a swift resolution of the offending individual. The second, believe that his can be handled in house, via politics, and polite conversation. The first is of greater risk, greater reward, and greater satisfaction, while the second a lesser victory, lesser satisfaction, but less risk.’

Gesturing to the table he motioned to a small pile of paperwork carefully typed out and organized into three sub stacks.

‘I have a favor, please read through these and make sure that, well, how would my old economics professor put it: ‘Make sure these will not burn the devils fingertips.’ If you would? Thank you.’