[She slaps his hand away when he starts getting too energetic about the paper gathering, but otherwise doesn't stop him.]
What do you mean why would you be back in charge! Because you were in charge when you left, and now you've bloody come back! [Her tone is incredulous, even affronted.] You think for even an instant that I'd fucking want it?
[Teren pauses to bristle at him, unable to deny that he's right, but not about to let him off that easy.]
Not about things that bloody matter! [Is that a touch of anxiety? She waves her own pile back.] I thought I'd washed my hands of fools trusting me with their lives! You of all people ought to know why.
[ he begins to say, and then he's struck with an idea. The moment it lands on him is very obvious. He drops his handful of papers—not the larger stack he's gathered, he's not that committed to the joke—to swing his hand around to his lower back. ]
[She notices the shift, sees the little cogs turning in his deceptively devious mind, and knows instantly what has just taken place. Teren is not anyone's mother, and would argue vehemently for the fact if presented with resistance-- however, like a mother, she's not about to let that stand.]
Oh your back hurts, does it, [she says calmly, beginning to roll up the papers she's holding into a nonfatal but nonetheless menacing bludgeoning tool,] I know just how to take your mind off it.
[ Pain. He's in so much pain. Clearly authentic pain. ]
Would you say that you plan to motivate me, [ he manages tremulously, ] to keep working and keep doing the right thing, despite the obvious deficiencies in my physique and my personality?
[He barely gets the last word out when Teren's makeshift weapon has descended upon him, whacking anywhere she can reach, a smirk on her face that she can't suppress.]
Oh I'll motivate you, [she snarls, with as much authority as she can muster for someone trying not to laugh.]
[ He abandons his back to protect his head, as much as he's able, ducking it down and grinning beneath his arm. He doesn't laugh, exactly, but he has some trouble getting words out around the urge to. ]
Go on then, [the voice is brusque, but she's more or less smiling at this point. A couple sharp cracks against his backside guide him toward the door.]
Get out of my office, go make yourself useful. [Fondly, and conclusive: fine, it's hers. It's possible she's just glad to have him back.
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What do you mean why would you be back in charge! Because you were in charge when you left, and now you've bloody come back! [Her tone is incredulous, even affronted.]
You think for even an instant that I'd fucking want it?
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[ He pauses the paper gathering, for a moment, to gesture with a handful of them. ]
You love bossing people around.
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Not about things that bloody matter! [Is that a touch of anxiety? She waves her own pile back.] I thought I'd washed my hands of fools trusting me with their lives!
You of all people ought to know why.
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[ he begins to say, and then he's struck with an idea. The moment it lands on him is very obvious. He drops his handful of papers—not the larger stack he's gathered, he's not that committed to the joke—to swing his hand around to his lower back. ]
I can't lead. Bad back. Too painful.
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Oh your back hurts, does it, [she says calmly, beginning to roll up the papers she's holding into a nonfatal but nonetheless menacing bludgeoning tool,] I know just how to take your mind off it.
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[ Pain. He's in so much pain. Clearly authentic pain. ]
Would you say that you plan to motivate me, [ he manages tremulously, ] to keep working and keep doing the right thing, despite the obvious deficiencies in my physique and my personality?
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Oh I'll motivate you, [she snarls, with as much authority as she can muster for someone trying not to laugh.]
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What—what amazing leadership—
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Get out of my office, go make yourself useful. [Fondly, and conclusive: fine, it's hers. It's possible she's just glad to have him back.
If anyone asks, she's still a tyrant.]