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"You're working too hard ! I demand you take a break !" Chystal popped up in front of the desk, pointing one finger authoratively at the man sitting in the chair behind. He paid her no mind - simply continued scribbling the pen across the paper with single minded intent.

The girls features melted into a slight frown. Arms crossed now, she tapped one finger against her chin thoughtfully as she stared at Angelo, pondering what approach to take. It was important that he take a break, she knew, before he keeled over from exhaustion. It was just a matter of making him see that ...

What to do, what to do ... Could she get away with hiking her skirt up and perching on the edge of his desk ? Should she just stick with the age-old 'something-wet-falling-in-his-lap' approach ? Or, in reality, was simply nagging him long enough going to get him out of that chair ?

"I said 'You're working too hard ! I demand you take a break !'" she repeated before she had thought about the inevitable reaction, scowling petulently in an attempt to look intimidating and speaking in a more forceful tone. This time, Angelo did glance up, although only for a moment. The rest of his attention was focused almost instantly on the paperwork once more - finished piece placed off to the side, new piece placed in front of him.

The pen began scribbling again, filling out menial details about troops and supplies and how much toilet paper they required to last the next month. Chystal's patience shattered.

"ANGELO !" The frustrated yell echoed in the office, finally getting the desired reaction. Stoically, the object of her affection tore his gaze from the paper and planted it firmly on her face. Flustered by the sudden change, Chystal forgot what she was going to say. "Uh ..."

"I heard you the first time." Angelo was obviously not impressed by her show of bravado, going so far as to place the pen down across the top of the paper and folding his hands on top of the desk. He could spare a few minutes to deal with this annoyance before he got behind schedule, after all, if it meant peace and quiet.

"Good !" Chystal's bravado reappeared as if by magic. Her chest puffed out slightly, her chin tilted upwards. "Because --"

"If you give me another order, I'm going to cause something very, very nasty to happen to you." Chystal's mouth snapped shut, swallowing whatever else she had to say. "I am your superior officer, not the other way around."

"Yes, sir," was the meek response. Angelo frowned - that was definately not a good sign.

"I assume there's something you wanted, Chystal ? Even you have more intelligence than to burst into my office at this hour for no reason."

"You need a break !" Before Angelo could verbally react to the once more reiterated statement, she babbled out the rest of the sentence. "SoIthoughtwecouldgotothebarandgetreallydrunk !"

Wait, no, that wasn't what she had meant to say ...

If there had been crickets available, they would have been paid for an usually taxful few minutes. The silence was almost heavy enough to cut with a knife. And yet, Chystal stood there grinning, apparently oblivious to both her unintentional proposition and Angelo's reaction. Ignorance is bliss !

"You'll notice I'm not laughing," was his response, after it became apparent she wasn't going to collapse under the weight of his scrutiny.

"You'll notice I wasn't making a joke," was the instant retort, completely innocently.

Angelo grunted, waving one hand at the door and picking up his pen again.

"You can see yourself out, Chystal. I do not have time for your infantile games tonight. Go find someone else to annoy."

Scribblescribble went the pen. There were no sounds of footsteps, nor any childish responses. Eventually, curiousity got even the best of Angelo, and he stared upwards. Chystal was standing there, arms crossed over her chest, scowling down at him.

"You can't ignore me forever," she warned, ominously.

"Watch me." Oh look, more interesting paperwork to immerse himself in ...

"You can't ignore it forever," was the next statement.

"Is that a threat ?" How worried he sounded, indeed.

"Its a fact." Chystal, much to her own surprise, took a step forward and placed her hands palm down on the desk. Her figure leaned forward as far as it could, for the illusion of glaring him in the eye. Her tone, when she spoke, was low and oddly dangerous. "You are going to have to acknowledge it one day, Angelo. I'm not going anywhere, which means the way I feel about you isn't going to go anywhere either."

Very carefully, Angelo shuffled papers, placed them in a neat pile, and set the pen down on top of them. When that was done, he finally deigned Chystal with a reaction. His gaze rose to meet hers - stoic and quite possibly uninterested.

"As your superior officer, I have no idea what you're talking about. Don't you have work to be doing ?"

Chystal's expression sagged, her shoulders drooped, and she sighed. All hints of aggression seeped out of her body within a few seconds, leaving her looking - and feeling - deflated.

"Right," she mumbled in agreement, standing upright and shifting towards the door without any more arguement. Angelo watched her leave without the slightest hint of regret for his blatant dismissal.

Well, that approach obviously didn't work, but the fact she had been so blunt in her demands and statements would have unnerved a weaker man.

Right. That took care of that for another day, and now it was time to get that report finished, before the next lot of paperwork found its way onto his desk. Couldn't afford to get behind on it, after all. That would be unforgiveable, against the rules, a crime punishable by death, and ... and ...

With a heavy sigh, Angelo leaned back in his seat and rubbed his hands over his face in pure frustration. There was no way he was going to get anything else done tonight, and he couldn't deny it.

Damn her.

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"Uh, I really think this is something that could be done without me ..."

"Mousey, grow up. Come on. This has to be done now, or it'll never get done, and trust me -- you will regret it."

The sharp retort from Sayaka silenced the brown haired girl and caused her to frown petulently, crossing her arms across her new found chest. Which, although quite interesting and appealing, was the root of all her problems at this particular moment in time.

"But, I --"

"Mousey !"

There was no patient or teasing undercurrent in the blonde's tone this time, and Mousey found herself cowering slightly under the weight of the glare that was directed at her, and then, not at all surprisingly, Sayaka simply grabbed her arm and dragged her into the building. There didn't seem to be a lot of point in resisting -- unless she was the type of person to be able to stand up to an immovable force which, as it appeared, she was not.


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"What about this one ?"

Mousey's normally bubbly tone had devolved into a reedy whine, while her carefree smile had been replaced by a slightly repulsed scowl, holding out the offending object in Sayaka's general direction. It dangled limply, silently accusing the girl of being out of her depths.

Sayaka turned, perked a brow, and snorted derisively.

"Honestly, I love you, but how are we meant to get anything done if you can't even find something that doesn't look like a child vomited it up ?"

Mousey frowned, bringing the item an inch closer to her face to inspect it critically. Personally, it didn't look that bad to her, but apparently she had no experience with this situation and should therefore definately concede to whatever her friend declared was truth.

Well, it was bound to be easier ...

"This one will do !" Swirling around, Sayaka thrust a similar looking ... thing ... in Mousey's face; who, predictably, backpedalled sharply, staring in horror at the lace and pink that was flailing around in front of her. With a squark of surprise, she abruptly discovered she was out of floor space, and had, in quite a skilled fashion, found a clothes rack. With a crash that echoed dramatically throughout the small store, she went head over a**, and landed with a cry on the cold floor, scattering itemsshedidn'twantoknowexistedoutsideofcertainsituations all around in the most haphazard fashion possible.

It couldn't have gone better if she'd planned it.

Her body, quite feminine as she was about to find out, reacted in the age-old way all real females did, and had done for centuries, when faced with public humiliation. Her eyes welled up, her bottom lip quivered, and her shoulders hunched slightly. Looming above, still holding the offending article, Sayaka rolled her eyes and flicked her tail sharply. There was no sympathy offered for the public display -- attendants were already rushing over to fix the mess, anyway -- but she did pause long enough to grab Mousey by the arm and drag her up. As soon as the brown haired girl regained her balance, the bra was shoved back in her face without the slightly hint of hesitation.

And this time, the iron grip on her arm prevented her from screaming and running away, much to her dismay.

Pinching the strap between her thumb and forefinger gingerly, Mousey was dragged off unceremoniously, glancing around awkwardly as Sayaka muscled her way through the attendants and crowds, completely oblivious to the carnage that had occured. The counter came in sight ... and then dissapeared.

"What --"

Before Mousey could even voice her question, Sayaka was twirling around, a dangerous glint in her eye. Her voice dropped an octave, and she gave an innocent, charming little smile.

"Now we have the bra, we have to get the other half of the set. It's what girls do ..."