“Show-off.”
He makes a small, amused sound, then gives me a second longer than I deserve.
“Do you want me to tell you to be sensible?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“All right. Be sensible.”
“Thank you.”
“And don’t confuse sensible with detached.”
I close my eyes.
This is precisely why Graham is unbearable. He says things calmly enough that they become harder to dismiss.
“She’s supervising me,” I say. “I’m there for one more week. I made her life harder before I even properly met her. It is not exactly the cleanest foundation.”
“No.”
“I’m glad we agree.”
“But people are rarely clean foundations.”
“That is disgusting.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Unfortunately.”
“And I didn’t say do anything about it.”
“You implied.”
He laughs quietly.
Someone speaks on his end, muffled and distant. A door, maybe. Movement. Real life continuing somewhere full of glass, security passes and people saying “cross-departmental” as if language has done something to offend them.
“I have to go in a minute,” he says.
“International incident?”
“Budget discussion.”
“Worse.”
“Significantly.”
“Try not to start a war over stationery.”
“No promises.”
He pauses, and when he speaks again his voice is gentler. “I’m glad you’re doing this.”
“Being punished?”
“Learning.”
