<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/cd/73/a7/cd73a732bf24b4f2f5d76d1e8eff7c64.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Mariska Moon<br/><strong>Age:</strong>26<br/><strong>Sexual Identity:</strong>Lesbiflexiaggressive<br/><strong>Position:</strong><del>scissor</del>Operator<br/><br/>Mar let her eyes drift around the room without seeming to- the way you do when some guy you have less than zero interest in keeps trying to chat you up. Oh, if she only had an office like this one! She could find a use for most of the accessories on display. And if she ever got New Girl Nerve Agent in there- well, she wouldn't be walking when she left. If she left.<br/><br/>She tried to look suitably impressed and cowed by Doug's barking, but she was pretty desensitized already by the job. Not that the dude wasn't trouble- of a good-looking, well-dressed, VERY well-heeled sort- after a certain time, though, one just couldn't be arsed. Though now that she had his attention, was there a way to work it?<br/><br/>Her own attention was quickly distracted by Belinda's clever, facile- and<strong>believable</strong>- lie about her and Little Red Ridemehard doing Company work on their downtime. Quick, the bitch was.  Quick<strong>suckup</strong>bitch.<br/><br/>She'd managed to cover herself and Tserin, metaphorically speaking, which left Mariska kinda twisting. Except she had  an iron-clad, bona fide excuse.<br/><br/>"Section three thousand twenty three of the Employee handbook, as revised yesterday," she said precisely, all but coming to attention. "Subsection ninety-six, paragraph four hundred, sub-bullet nineteen.'  Hopefully he wouldn't ask her about any OTHER parts of the bloody book. The person who'd brought Mar on had advised her to memorize that specific section just in case shit went sideways. The book itself was right that moment holding up one end of her coffee table/dining table/desk in her 13-th floor walkup. The end with a broken leg.<br/><br/>"'In case of a clear and present threat to Corporate profitability resulting from a verifiably true or substantially likely customer complaint, operators will, shall, and must use the Company-installed Death Knell signal to alert both the Legal and Tactical divisions of said breach of profitability. Failure to do so is grounds for termination and any other punishment deemed suitable by management, including eternal damnation and perpetual slavery...'' There, she'd managed to get it all out in one breath. "But I'm sure you know the section better than I do, Mister Rankins," she finished with a shy smile. Actually, she'd bet he'd read even less of it that she had. One of the good things about moving into Management was not having to deal with petty details.<br/><br/>"And I know you didn't ask my opinion, sir, but I think our customers would very much like to see Belinda and the new girl tongue-wrestle for a while." There. Carrot, stick, and false flag.