She didn't turn or meet his eyes. "Someone has to make sure the right version goes out before Tokyo gets the wrong impression."
There was a pause before Dorian said something that made Rune freeze.
"You look tired, Rune."
Still, she didn't turn.
"Worn down," he added. "You used to take more pride in how you looked."
She paused. Then she set the file down before turning to face him. Her blouse was soft cotton, pale grey, tucked into dark trousers. No lipstick for her naturally pink lips. No disguising the freckles that dotted her face. No effort to impress.
"I dress like someone who's here to work," she said quietly. "Not to accessorize your furniture."
He laughed once. "Jealousy is not a good look on you.".
"Cruelty isn't a good look on you either," she shot back seriously.
His eyebrows drew together in surprise at the comeback.
Probably surprised the furniture is talking back, thought Rune bitterly.
"You think I regret what I said in there?" he asked.
Rune shook her head. "I don't think you're capable of regret. Or emotion. Your heart is made of stone."
She picked up the folder again and then seemed to change her mind, dumping it on Margo's desk in a show of defiance. Then she collected her tote, but before she could make a move towards the lifts, Dorian's hand shot out to capture her arm in a tight grip. He stood there looking into her defiant blue-grey eyes that refused to look away.
It was like he was searching for a crack that wasn't there anymore.
Then he said, his voice, the familiar blade he used to cut her with, "You've become boring and predictable."
"No. I am no longer your puppet, dancing to your tune. I've just stopped begging to be noticed. I don't want your love anymore."
Dorian recoiled as if bitten.
"Love?" he asked in a tone that implied he had smelt something rotten.
"Yes, love. Grow up, Dorian. I am not going to hide how I felt especially as it is no longer relevant. I have given up. Congratulations. You no longer have my attention. I have finally realized you are not worth it," she said, surprising even herself.
"If you had any humanity left in you, you would let me leave now instead of making me go through this. You have Margo, and as much as it turns my stomach, it has stopped hurting me to watch you both. This gives me hope that in a month, you will be nothing but a distant memory and a lesson."
"So fucking blacklist me if you want. See what happens," she muttered defiantly, and marched to the lift and pressed the down button gently instead of jabbing it repeatedly like she was poking out Dorian's eye.
There was more to say. And she would get it all off her chest. Just two more days.
Chapter eight
Chapter 8
The next morning, Rune stepped into the office and stopped short.
Her old desk was back.
Everything that had been swept into a corner last week – her files, her pens, even the battered mug with the chipped rim and a picture of a harried cat with 'It’s fine, I'm fine, Everything's fine' printed on it had been restored to its rightful place. Only now there were two new desks flanking hers in the open-plan office space, spaced far enough apart that they were at shouting distance. but not close enough for whispers.
Margo's station was still bare, her glitter and crystals now heaped in a chaotic mound at one side of her desk that was sure to send Dorian reaching for the panic button. A cardboard box and her laptop bag were balanced precariously on top.
To Rune's left sat Tom's desk. It had been there from the beginning, but someone had nudged it further away. He was already typing furiously, but the moment he saw Rune stride in, he shot to his feet like a spring-loaded jack-in-the-box.
