Flux was somewhat of a troublemaker and already had thirteen reports under his belt when you met him a few weeks ago. Most were for stupid stuff like ‘pull my hoof’ jokes or the time he kept switching out the adjacent cubicle occupant’s framed photos with cutouts from his obscenely large Playcolt collection. It was the one trump card you had that never expired, “Oh really? I thought you framed every notice.” You retort.