Fermata
“You run those reports?”
Ian looked up and caught the harried gaze of his co-worker, Phil. “They were emailed to you three hours ago,” Ian said, dropping his attention back to the printout in front of him. “You’d know that if you ever spent any time at your desk.”
“Whoa,” Phil said in mock-alarm, throwing up his arms like some kind of moronic cartoon character. “We just a little bit cranky?”
“As for we, I have no clue,” Ian said without emotion. “But as for me, yes I am. I have a lot on my plate right now. Was there something else you needed?”
Phil flopped into the chair opposite Ian’s desk and gave him a pitiful stare. “Actually, yes. I was hoping you could stay to let the audit team out of the building tonight. My wife planned this dinner with some people down the street—”
