There are some things a man can stand firm against. There are others that can only be mastered by embracing them fully and charging ahead faster than everyone else.
Which is why Zed's first act, inevitably, is to reach for his tie, much like K did, and start rearranging it back into a semblance of dignity. He says nothing while he does this (and then his Suit), and he takes his own sweet time at it.
Then comes the most baleful Zed glare to date. K gets the first and the harshest, but no word is spoken or needs to be.
Nita is next, with pointed finger. "You: internship accepted. Furthermore, you'll fulfill its terms as my executive assistant. With the proviso that you don't pull that shit on me again ever, unless you're intent on spending the rest of your life on Balbazol Prime. Look it up."
The finger turns next to Jen: "You: offer accepted, starting immediately. If you're going to be a fucking skip tracer, you might as well be going after fugitives in your threat level. I'm talking intergalactic felons, not shit-heeled biker gangs from Oakland."
"As for you," he turns to Goldy. "OUT OF MY FUCKING CHAIR. Offer also accepted. About time we got you on the payroll. I've got a list of miserable sons-of-bitches as long as my arm who ought to consider themselves lucky to end up gutted like fish for the shit they've pulled around the galaxy. You want asses to kick, and you kick them like no other. You're finally going to get some worth your time."
"Now," Zed straightens and surveys the office once more. "Have we got a fucking deal or not?"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-07-16 06:29 am (UTC)Which is why Zed's first act, inevitably, is to reach for his tie, much like K did, and start rearranging it back into a semblance of dignity. He says nothing while he does this (and then his Suit), and he takes his own sweet time at it.
Then comes the most baleful Zed glare to date. K gets the first and the harshest, but no word is spoken or needs to be.
Nita is next, with pointed finger. "You: internship accepted. Furthermore, you'll fulfill its terms as my executive assistant. With the proviso that you don't pull that shit on me again ever, unless you're intent on spending the rest of your life on Balbazol Prime. Look it up."
The finger turns next to Jen: "You: offer accepted, starting immediately. If you're going to be a fucking skip tracer, you might as well be going after fugitives in your threat level. I'm talking intergalactic felons, not shit-heeled biker gangs from Oakland."
"As for you," he turns to Goldy. "OUT OF MY FUCKING CHAIR. Offer also accepted. About time we got you on the payroll. I've got a list of miserable sons-of-bitches as long as my arm who ought to consider themselves lucky to end up gutted like fish for the shit they've pulled around the galaxy. You want asses to kick, and you kick them like no other. You're finally going to get some worth your time."
"Now," Zed straightens and surveys the office once more. "Have we got a fucking deal or not?"