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Chert yawned widely, causing his eyes to water and his jaw to pop loudly. He was sitting inside of a small office that was cooled by a single whirring monster of an ac unit, which he suspected had probably been in existence longer than he had. There was a single desk that was covered in so many layers of paper that it was less in need of a secretary than a geologist, a few chairs scattered about haphazardly, two filing cabinets, and a fridge that was colored a surprisingly unappetizing vomit green. Chert was reclining in one of the chairs (if it was even possible to "recline" in such a stiff, wooden seat), his feet propped up on one of the short metal cabinets. His wide-brimmed hat was placed neatly over his eyes to block out the bright sun streaming through the un-shuttered windows.

The door opened and closed with a bang. Chert heard the sound of someone's footsteps cross the room and stop on the other side of the desk. It was never a good sign when someone made a b-line for the back of the room without stopping to get a drink and recover from the heat first. He felt a twinge of dismay at the expectant silence that hung in the air. There was no doubt in his mind- it was her. No other person could exude such a thick aura of rage without even opening their mouths. He didn't need to open his eyes to know that she was standing a few feet away with her feet firmly planted on the floor like an oak sending out roots, and her arms crossed tightly across her chest in an impenetrable shield of disapproval.

"Slow day," Chert mumbled from underneath his hat.

"What the hell kind of game are you playing?" the woman demanded imperiously, ignoring the fact that Chert had even spoken.

"Dunno," he said with cautious humor. "Probably something fun. You know me, Fred."

Fred raked her hands through her hair in frustration. "Unforunately, you idiot. I just heard that some of the higher-ups are considering booting you again because of another incident with a tourist. Another!"

Chert huffed disgustedly. "He was a dumbass."

"That's exactly the attitude that's going to get you fired, Chert! And they've gotten complaints about your language, too!"

"******** them." He wasn't about to change just because a bunch of dandelions got their panties in a twist over a curseword or two.

Fred lost her temper at his flippancy. She'd been loud before, but now she was practically screaming. "I was the one who reccommended you! You're not the only one that looks bad when you misbehave!"

Chert's head jerked up. There was nothing like another's person anger to completely crush one's peaceful state of mind. Fred's rage somehow breathed life into the hot coals in his own chest, so that his lip curled into a fierce sneer. "Then ******** you, too!" he snarled.

As soon as the words left his mouth he regretted them, but they hung heavily between him and Fred, nonetheless. He might rant and rage at everything else in the world- tourists, administrators, republicans, democrats, pelicans- but he never verbally attacked Fred. Chert thought for a moment that maybe- just maybe- she'd be too angry for the harsh words to affect her, but he wasn't that lucky. Fred stiffened, her arms tightening against her chest. He could see the hurt that swam in her eyes, but she was too proud to let it show obviously- which, of course, made the pang of guilt in his chest ache that much more.

"Listen, Fred, I didn't mean-"

"Of course you didn't," she agreed coldly. "You never do. You're always so wrapped up in proving you're right that you never mean to be a complete jackass."

Fred turned away and began to quickly trace her initial path towards the door, while Chert desperately tried to think of something conciliatory to say to prevent her from leaving- but nothing came. He'd always been lacking in the social niecities department, preferring to simply bowl over anyone that got in his way, which hadn't really mattered until now because there hadn't been anyone worth stepping around before Fred. Now, though, his old habits were serving him poorly. Apologizing was like trying to fix a window with nothing but a baseball bat.

The door slammed shut. One of the piles of papers on the desk cascaded magnificently onto the floor. Chert stared at it, wishing he could simply will it to burst into the flames with the intensity of his gaze. For a moment he wished the whole goddamned building would just explode, and the walls would break apart into boards, and the boards would be torn into splinters, and the splinters would break into smaller splinters... He gave his chair a violent push and sent it tumbling across the room, but the physical release only alleviated just enough of his anger to allow his guilt could worm its way to the surface. Hadn't he left highschool over a decade ago?

Chert growled as he trudged over to the chair and righted it, then flopped into it heavily.

"******** moron," he said. "This is why you're single."