Headlines aka Forehead Wrinkles!

[Tristise Rederick]

Tristise had been at the job a little over three weeks now and things had progressed smoothly considering the circumstances. She had done her best to maintain her professional air when dealing with Brogan, but more than that she had done her best to avoid him as much as possible. Obviously there were things she couldn't avoid him while doing like going over his schedule, giving him messages, getting him a drink, but if she didn't absolutely need to be in contact with him she made sure she wasn't. It was much for her own benefit as for his.

She noticed though that it was getting more and more difficult to keep out of each others way as the weeks progressed. She was getting more and more tasks and more and more of them involved Brogan. The amount of tasks didn't bother her - she could handle just about anything - it was the Brogan factor that was the problem.

Her forehead wrinkled as she glared at the reporter standing before her who was going on and on about how he needed to speak with Mister Vassar because 'this witness' and 'that informant' were being troublesome. "Not possible. I told you several times already that Mister Vassar is busy and cannot help you. Go speak to your supervisor."

"Listen..." He checked the name plate on her desk, his face trying to look fierce, "Miss Rederick, My supervisor is a busy man and he's out of the building right now. I have to speak with Mister Vassar! It's urgent and I won't let you stop me any more."

He move for the door and Tristise was up in a moment, blocking his path and looking menacing. "I will tell you one last time because I don't have the time to keep repeating myself. Mister Vassar is busy and if you insist on barging into that office, so help me I will break both your legs and make sure you can't go anywhere, let alone in there."

The man observed her, clearly trying to call her bluff, but upon finding no hint at one he swallowed and backed away. "Fine! You can explain to Mister Vassar why I wasn't able to get the information from the French Ministry! Make sure he knows it's your stubbornness at fault!"

Tristise sighed and rolled her eyes before watching him exit, glancing back at her with ill-masked terror. She returned to her desk and rubbed her forehead before picking up the phone and dialing the number for the French Ministry of Magic. "Allo? Ah. C'est Tristise Rederick au Daily Prophet à l'appareil. Je voudrais parler au ministère de la liaisons. Oui. Ah, oui. Merci."

She tapped her quill and waited while she was connected to the department she needed. "Allo. Je suis la collègue de Monsieur Marcus Reinholdt. Je vous appelle au sujet d'un article de nouvelles sur les meurtres." She scribbled down a few notes, "Ah, je comprends. Demandez-lui de me rappeler, s'il vous plaît. Merci."

Replacing the phone back in the cradle she put down her quill, ripped the page from her notepad, and stuck it in a container which she then slid into a tube behind her and sent off to the annoying reporter who had bothered her before. It contained a few key details he could start an article with. She'd obtain more later when the head of the department returned and gave her a call back.

Scanning over the work on her desk she flopped back in her chair and grumbled. No wonder Brogan needed a secretary. Without one he had to do all this work himself. As it is she still passed most of it off to him because she wasn't technically qualified based on her job title to do it. Glancing at the clock she stood again and crossed the room to make afternoon tea. Once that was finished she took the tray of it over to her desk, neatly tucked the next morning's rough draft paper beside it - one of those things she had to pass off to Brogan - and made her way to his door, knocking lightly and then allowing herself in.

Quickly, she put back on her cold facade, hiding her exhaustion from dealing with imbeciles all day. She placed the tray down on Brogans desk and laid the paper to the side. "Tea time, sir. Also, I've brought in the rough copy of tomorrow's paper. It arrived a bit ago, but since you have so much work already I thought it best to give you some more time with what you already had on your plate. Wouldn't want to overload you, right, Boss?" She smirked, though she did her best to make it seem like smile. "Is there anything else I can get for you?"

[brogan vassar]

Brogan was doing the usual. Scanning paperwork - which there had been far too much of in the past month - and filling out documents. His pen was scribblings words, signatures... The works. His workload had certainly decreased since the addition of Tristise. Surprisingly, they hadn't blown up at each other yet. They hadn't outwardly expressed any anger or tactics of revenge. Instead they were void of emotion - shockingly pleasant. He hated to say it, but she'd been such a good secretary that he couldn't muster a complaint.

He sometimes would forget how fiercely him and her used to fight, the extent to which their hatred went. However, this newly developed tolerance was merely an act. The minute that either of them slipped up, their pretentious little relationship would shatter. He wanted to do mean things to her, as he'd felt the need to get back at her... But it simply felt wrong. All she ever did was smile politely and speak just as nice.

Occasionally he entertained the idea of pushing her buttons just for the hell of it. For amusement. He nearly missed her ferocious temper... Where she acted so passionately. Even if anger seemed to be her greatest passion (particularly toward him) it still beat their lifeless charade. Something needed to give. They were tip-toeing on egg shells, teetering on a cliff... It was bound to end, some way or another.

Speaking of Tristise, she waltzed in - her pleasant behaviour still startling him. He smiled at her, though it was more wicked than anything. "Thank you. I like it when you call me sir," he couldn't help but slip in the tease, pulling away from his desk. Their kind behaviour was verging on boring, and he felt the need to push her buttons. He wandered over to her, invading her space ever so slightly. He held onto the paper she placed on his desk, assessing it. "And boss..." He didn't hide his smirk, he let it slip past his facade. "Why, you're so pleasant and willing..." Brogan's voice became a low murmur, and he taunted her. He was so bored of paperwork that yes... He was trying to get under her skin.

He wanted to see that cool demeanour struggle, to see her wild temper flare. "I'm beginning to believe you'd do just about anything for your boss."

Brogan wanted her to snap. He was daring her too.

[Tristise Rederick]

Oh, did he have to do this now? So many weeks had passed peacefully and now he was going to try and push her buttons? She stood there, watching as he rose from his chair and moved closer, holding the paper and assessing it. He mentioned how he enjoyed have her call him sir and boss and she clenched her teeth tightly together until her jaw hurt.

Pleasant and willing. She could have scoffed. Already she had the urge to grab the paper and shove it down his throat to shut him up. She hated how close he had gotten to her. Most would pass it off as nothing, surly, but because they'd been avoiding each other, dancing around each other carefully - for her he was definitely much too close.

She tugged on her black vest and stood up taller. Preparing to excuse herself. "I'm beginning to believe you'd do just about anything for your boss." Tris' head snapped back around to glare at him, "And by that just what are you implying, Mister Vassar? I assure you there are plenty of things I would not do for my boss - especially if that boss is you." The words had flown out before she could help it and she grit her teeth again, trying her best to hold together her temper. After that annoying reporter and all the work she had left to do tonight the last thing she needed was Brogan trying to get under her skin.

It didn't help that he had already made her uncomfortable by moving closer to her. Between his proximity and his words, what was she to think? It's not like she didn't know he found her attractive. He'd told her as much the first time they met so... If he was implying anything of that nature she'd rip off a certain appendage and feed it back to him. Screw getting fired or arrested.

Her phone sounded from the other room and she sighed with relief, as if she had actually been uncomfortable, nervous. Not that Tristise ever was. "That will be the the Liaisons Department head for the French Ministry. I called earlier for one of the reporters and asked they return my call. I need to get that. Excuse me." Using the phone as her excuse she gave Brogan one last glance and turned, heading for the door.

[brogan vassar]

Brogan knew full well that any implication of sexual nature would have her clinging to her faux self. If he truly threatened her in such a way she would lose it. So he skirted around the idea, hinting at his intentions in a way that would surely leave her questioning his motives. They'd worked so peacefully though, why would he try to sabotage such normality? Boredom really was not a valid reason.

He watched her demeanour change, her teeth clench much like his used to. Brogan couldn't help the way the corners of his lips upturned, assessing her inner struggle from the outside. He was hardly an innocent bystander. Stepping carefully around each other was not Brogan's style - he preferred to lay it all out, open and raw. Sure their little dance of perfection had worked for their sanity and the job. But really, who were they fooling?

He was very interested in just how far she would take her act of perfection.

"But I thought you professed how well you were at handling any given situation... Mm?" He leaned toward her with raised eyebrows, a smugness that nearly had him laughing out loud. Personally he would only hint as to how far she would do tedious tasks for him. Ones that in no way were sexual. He was a guy, but not a pervert. However, he arranged his wording in such a way that it seemed definite that he was discussing certain... Favours.

"Mm, I like Mister too..." His eyes were narrowed, half-lidded. "Miss Rederick, I can assure you that my implications are of nothing that you wouldn't enjoy." He acted oh so well, when in reality he was struggling with the need to crack up. When she spoke of her phone call he touched her wrist, pulling her back to him. "I need to see you when you're done with you're phone call, Miss Rederick," he smiled sweetly and calculating, his head tilted. He watched her retreating form, lounging against the edge of his desk, awaiting her return.

As he anticipated her arrival, he continued to look over the papers she'd brought.

[Tristise Rederick]

The heat that rose up Tristise's spine and neck was not an unfamiliar flame for her. She knew what it meant. She was getting really pissed off with Brogan. Her fists clenched at her sides, tightening when she saw the way his lips curled up into a smug smirk. This bastard was getting a kick out of it. He was definitely trying to push her buttons.

When he grabbed her wrist and told her he needed to see her after her call she did all she could not to yank his arm right out of it's socket. She gave him a tight, cruel smile and nodded. "Of course, boss."

She went to the other room, shutting (almost slamming) the door behind her and sighed heavily. Making her way to her desk she sank into her chair and picked up the phone, "Hello?" A french voice on the other end replied and she picked up her quill. "Merci, monsieur. Oui. Oui. Mm. Je vois..." She checked her computer and nodded to herself as she spotted the email. "Pourriez-vous me faire savoir des nouvelles que vous recevez? Merci beaucoup. Oui. Au revoir."

Typing in a few more things to the email she forwarded it to the same reporter from earlier and then slumped back in her chair again. She looked to the door to Brogan's office and glared at it icily. He was trying to upset her, for what purpose she couldn't guess. She'd been a damn good secretary so he couldn't possibly be trying to get her fired... unless that was the plan from the start. Hire her, then fire her and give her bad reviews to future employers. Either way, he was clearly trying to get to her so she'd just have to suck it up and deal with it. If she just ignored what he was saying and doing surly she'd manage to not rip his head off before the night was out.

She stood, fixing her pencil skirt which matched her vest and her pale yellow blouse. She could do this. She could definitely act civil even if it was Brogan Vassar. Taking a deep breath she returned to Brogan's office and moved to stand in front of him. "Sorry to keep you waiting, it's terribly difficult balance my work as your secretary and the work of your useless reporters to boot. They can't even manage to get the French Ministry to speak with them in English. What good are they?"

While she knew from his past attitude and words that he didn't much care for his job and didn't take an insult to it personally, she still made the jab. Perhaps insulting the other co-workers would keep her capable of civil conversation with Brogan. Unlikely.

"What is it you needed me back in here for, sir?" She had boasted she could handle any situation. Granted she never did tell him how sexual harassment situations would turn out... with the missing limbs and whatnot. Maybe she was thinking over his words too much. He just seemed the type to be perverted. She could handle this situation calmly... calmly and professionally. Yeah. Even with Brogan.

[brogan vassar]

Brogan was having a time watching her anger slowly creep up on her. He'd become accustomed to it already, and was aware of her restraint slipping away. "Thank you," he said, much too sweetly. He wished that she hadn't excused herself... He'd just begun to have a little fun. It was the reason he'd gotten her to come back. They'd been avoiding each other too much.

Anger was so evident in her voice, her smile, her steps, and the slam of his door. He started to laugh (though very quietly) once she left. What also amused Brogan was that his fantasies from earlier were correct. Tristise in a pencil skirt. The only thing differing from his fantasies was that he hadn't tried to take advantage of her yet. He needed to use to his advantage the fact that she was at his mercy.

"That's fine. I was waiting for your true colors to shine through," he said, casually in response to her slip up of how she felt. It may have been a stab at him, but he honestly hated the place just as much if not more. The only thing it was good for was profit, along with a great way to disguise his real business of choice... Okay, well it wasn't exactly his choice... But it was what he did, regardless.

"I need you to help me. It may take awhile..." Brogan said, walking over to a door that was in his office. He motioned for her to follow. He opened the door to reveal a rather large room that was horribly messy, filled with file cabinets, loose papers, boxes... It was a disturbing mess. "The old owner left this for me, and I haven't gotten around to it. So I thought we could do it together," he knew that him and Tristise in a confined space for a long period of time was not necessarily a good idea.

But, if he planned to tear into her calmness, this was the way to do so. "I had every intention of starting right away. I trust that your schedule can be cleared?" He smiled, just barely stifling the wicked tendencies of it. Surely she was catching on that he was messing with her.

Brogan wasn't kidding about the storage closet though. It needed to be done, and it was certainly a job for two people.

[Tristise Rederick]

"That's fine. I was waiting for your true colors to shine through."

Tristise raised an eyebrow at him and put her hands on her hips, "Hmph. True colors... like you know anything about them," she muttered, mostly to herself, eyes glancing anywhere but at Brogan. So he had definitely been trying to push her buttons.

But then his demeanor was almost completely changed as he walked to the closet and opened the door, showing her the disaster inside. She groaned as he said they should work on it together and asked if her schedule could be cleared. "Oh, yes, of course. Allow me to go magically make the six stacks of paper work on my desk and your weekly schedule disappear." She was muttering again, unable to hold her comments back. Louder, and adopting his same more civil tone, she said, "Let me see what I can do. I won't be but a moment, boss."

She left the room - again - and walked to her desk. She filed the paper work into things she could shove into the hands of others and things only she could do. In the end she still had a hefty pile because she didn't trust idiots with certain things, but it was considerably smaller than before. She stuck the rest into tubes with notes and shipped them off to various other departments before filing her own paperwork into her suitcase to do at home later.

She turned to her computer, plugged in the most necessary notes for Brogan's weekly schedule and then went back to his office. "Alright then, let's get started." She waltzed straight over to the storage room and inside, looking around and pulling out her wand. With a few muttered words the papers flew up in the air and drifted back down into a multitude of neat little stacks. "Let's each take a stack and sort through what's necessary to keep, possibly important, and junk that can be thrown out, shall we?"

It was like cleaning Andrew's house all over again. At least this room wasn't disgusting and smelly. Just a bit dusty and filled with far too many papers. Tristise found a small table and a considerably large stack of papers and made herself at home, sitting on one edge of the table and pulling the first few papers from the stack into her hands. She immediately set to work sorting what was necessary to keep, possibly important, and junk. The junk and possibly important stuff all went in one pile and the necessary papers she began sorting already into piles for financial papers, contacts, department specific, etc. This type of thing was the one thing her father ever praised her on. She was almost scarily efficient.

There was no way that in this small room the two of them could possibly avoid each other or manage to keep civil, but she'd be damned if she didn't try.

[brogan vassar]

Brogan's eyes followed Tristise's hands. He watched the way that they took hold of her curvaceous hips. He couldn't help but stare, as her choice of skirt flaunted them particularly well. He pouted at the way his body betrayed him. Pretty girls were forever his weakness. He simply narrowed his eyes at her comment, as it was true he didn't know her. But he had gotten a pretty hefty taste of what she was capable of.

He actually managed a laugh at her sarcasm. It was surprisingly genuine. "You don't think I'm aware of all the work we have? But come on, this needs to be taken care of. Everything else can..." He licked his lips briefly, looking up at her, "Wait."

He watched her go again, this time proceeding into the closet. He mentally prepared himself for what would need to be done. All the magic in the world wouldn't help the fact that each paper needed to be assessed. She was back promptly, and Brogan stepped aside to let her into the room. He shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it into his office. He pulled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, revealing a portion of his toned arms. Brogan walked around the room, lighting up a few of the old dusty lamps.

"Sounds good," Brogan said with a chuckle. He sat on the floor, close but not to close to Tristise. He pulled one of the stacks in front of him, leaning back and letting his eyes scan each page. He began tossing papers into designated piles, sorting through the information, that to him, seemed completely useless.

"So tell me something..." Brogan started casually, eyes never leaving the paper - the task at hand. "What game are you playing? Why are you acting this way? I know you needed a job etc, etc... But that doesn't mean you have to be so... Pleasant about it," he eyed her suspiciously. Brogan smirked at her then, "Surely you've been just dying to hurt me... At the very least, scream at me?" Although it sounded like it, he wasn't asking for it.

Not intentionally, anyway.

It already felt like he'd read through thousands of papers, but the sad reality was - as he looked around the room - he hadn't even made a dent. He couldn't decide, if through this he wanted Tristise to be her professional self or her scary self. Of course he didn't want her to attempt another kill upon him, but at least some banter to pass the time.

[Tristise Rederick]

Tristise laid aside the last paper in the stack nearest her and then used her wand to pull over another. She continuously glanced at Brogan while working, making sure he wasn't slacking off. Goodness he moved slow! She rolled her eyes and relaxed back into her sorting.

He started asking why she was being so pleasant. "Surely you've been just dying to hurt me... At the very least, scream at me?" Tristise snorted and turned toward him carefully, "Considering the level of professionalism you've used these past weeks, no. I haven't had the desire to inflict harm on you. I have wanted to scream, but frustration does that to the best of us. You are really high maintenance."

"I suppose a lot of that is because the paper isn't organized well. If it ran as a well-oiled machine you'd probably have less work and stress which would make things easier for me. That isn't the case though. Besides if I had been bitchy and rude and loud-mouthed would you have hired me?" She paused and narrowed her eyes at him, "Then again the way you tried to provoke me earlier makes me wonder. Do you secretly like when I'm mean to you? Masochist?"

Tristise almost chuckled genuinely. Almost. "Besides, I take my jobs very seriously. I wasn't lying in the interview when I said that. When I have a job it's my life and I bury myself in my work in all aspects. I suppose it's something I get from my family, but I believe anything you do is worth doing well. If it's not worth doing well it's not worth doing at all."

"What about you? Why have you been so pleasant and civil? Haven't you wanted to yell at me or... get revenge on me? I do work for you now... but then again the normal work load is revenge enough. I don't know how you managed to run this place without a proper secretary. No wonder it was such a mess when I got here and no wonder this hasn't been taken care of yet." She motioned to the room around them. "If it wasn't for the sheer amount I'm now aware you had to do I'd have called you useless."

Actually, she probably still would, but not to his face.

[brogan vassar]

Brogan wasn't sure if he had the patience to complete the entire room all in one day. Even with Tristise's help, he knew it would take far too long. "High maintenance?" He repeated, nearly snorting at the notion in laughter. "If you think that of me, I might as well enhance it. I'll have you pick out my outfits, arrange a car for me to be picked up in..." He trailed off, despite kidding it was a small threat. He could take advantage of her status as his assistant.

Brogan chuckled darkly at her stab at the Daily Prophet. "I've been trying to fix it up, you know." He shook his head, not wanting to get into that with her. With Tristise it was always a losing game, no matter how right he thought he may be.

"But I know that you're like that regardless. This little act of yours hasn't made me forgotten what you've done." Her narrowed eyes and assumption easily made him laugh. Though he calmed it, standing up to grab another pile of paper from beside her. "Maybe a little," he teased, gathering an assortment of papers. Tristise clearly liked being mean. It wasn't like he'd just offered to be her personal punching bag...

"Well, despite everything I do appreciate your hard work. And as much as the stubborn part of me denies it, you've done a great job," he said it pleasantly, though it looked as if the compliment took a lot out of him. He meant what he said, regardless. He sorted through papers on the table now, sorting them into groups once more.

Brogan took a minute to ponder the question. Why had he been so nice? "It was my intention to make you pay. It's hard to hate someone when they're impossibly polite, though." He took a moment to send a half-hearted glare her way. "That's why I asked you how far you're really willing to go... I intend to take advantage of you. I'm also wondering where the psycho bitch I had the displeasure of hitting on went," His voice had started out normal, lowering as his words became increasingly malicious.

He did not look pissed off, though. His voice was light, teasing. His hand rested on the table beside Tristise, and he looked down at her, studying her damned face, it's beauty. Assessing the way her expression was cool, but the undying fire in her eyes was perfectly evident. Maybe he was a masochist. Maybe he did want her to rough him up. Maybe in some sick way he missed it.

Fighting with her could be thrilling.

"I'd hope you wouldn't find me useless. This job isn't my only responsibility, and it's enough for two people..."

[Tristise Rederick]

Why did their conversation seem... nice? Not just impossibly polite, but nice. Even though they traded insults it still all seemed... like friendly banter. Tristise hated it. It disgusted her. Actually getting along with this arrogant brat? No, definitely not.

She focused her attention on the papers she was sorting, trying to give them all of her attention she could manage. She still replied to his comments though. "Well, you could probably use my help getting dressed anyway, judging by the things you wear." She looked him up and down and faked a sad sigh. "Honestly though, a car? You're a wizard, man, act like one!" She rolled her eyes and picked up another handful of papers to sort through.

"I know I've done a good job. Please, I practically run this place. Speaking of... can we fire that reporter writing about the murders in France? I mean really! He was up here earlier in my face and demanding to see you and talking to me like I was some peon! Me, honestly? He can't even speak French. He should have said as much when he took on the assignment. It's not like he didn't realize he'd have to... and if he didn't - even more reason to fire him. Someone with that little intelligence will only bring this place down." She hadn't looked up from the papers the whole time she spoke. She just effortlessly rambled. Tristise rambled.

When she noticed she glared at the papers in her hands and wondered where her common sense had gone. It had abandoned her, clearly. Brogan carried on, talking about how he was going to take advantage of her and blah, blah, blah. She chuckled coldly and looked up at him finally, realizing how close he suddenly was. When did he get there? She pulled back instinctively, but then relaxed and eased back in closer, "Take advantage of me, really? How do you know I'm not the one taking advantage of you?"

She smirked and leaned even closer, pushing her face into his direct line of sight. "I'm willing to go pretty far and so I suppose it'll be easy for you to take advantage of me. Of my hard working attitude... but you'll have to resign yourself to the fact that there's not really much you could make me do that I would mind." Her words were a bit different from what she'd said earlier, but now she'd caught his game. Now that she was certain of her playing field she felt much more confident, less out of sorts.

Not to say it didn't annoy her that he really did have every intention of taking advantage of her... but she was playing the same game with him so who was she to say anything? Unlike him though she wouldn't be quite so straight forward and honest. If she was the Ministry would be quite upset with her for ruining their little plan. She moved back to her original position and finished the last of the papers in her second stack.

"Well, I was inclined to believe you weren't useless... until I noticed how little progress you were making on sorting. Useless, most definitely." She smirked and shook her head. "I guess I can rest assured my family has no rival in your organization with such a useless leader such as you. Speaking of, how is that coming? You were after the same information as my family. I trust you had a reason... did that go anywhere for you?"

[brogan vassar]

It was rather disturbing how their definite hatred had become nothing more than a shell. It was a half-assed effort, like they were old friends that used to mock each other. No, they most definitely despised each other. Any step too far could send their pleasantries crashing down. Brogan had tried to rile her up and get that pure heated anger out of her - but no. She was much to calm. And his words were much too light.

Brogan looked down at himself. "Ouch. I can take it off, then? If my clothes are truly that distasteful," he couldn't resist the tease, and he popped a button on his shirt, revealing bits of his smooth chest. He merely snickered though, getting back to the overwhelming stack of papers. They had started to make a decent sorted pile, though. "I was just going for the cliche of it all. Forgive me for my lack of creativity," all he could do was shrug.

His mouth hung open slightly. There! The psycho bitch was coming back. All it took was a few moment alone in an over-sized closet. "Don't flatter yourself," he said, a little bit of anger evident in his tone. But then he had to laugh at her ramble. "Anyone disturbing my precious assistant in such a way is done for. Consider him fired," his voice may have been cooing and condescending, but he had every intention of firing the bastard. Right away, in fact.

Brogan exhaled as she leaned closer to him, her words stirring something within him. It wasn't anger this time. "I have a hard time believing you'd let me take advantage of you - all the while you complying willingly," he said, licking his lips - almost nervously. She was close, and he put a hand on the other side of her, so that he leaned into her. He had an eyebrow raised, a smirk dwelling on his lips. Her confidence was somehow so attractive to him. "I'm a paranoid person, remember Trissie?" Her nickname was spoken low, he gazed at her, up and down, "Of course I've questioned your sudden compliance, and eagerness for a job you've slandered in the past..." He left it at that, though, pulling away as she had and getting back to sorting.

He actually managed a laugh at her. "I'm not use-" Cue Brogan picking up the sorted papers, tripping over an unidentifiable object and propelling them all into the air. He groaned as his body made contact with the floor, their hard work fluttering around him. "I take that back..." he said, pitifully. He simply stayed on the floor, now laying on his back and looking up at the lycaness that surely wouldn't be pleased with him.

"I'm not telling you about that, you crazy girl..."

[Tristise Rederick]

Try as she might Tristise could not avoid paying attention to Brogan in a small room with only the two of them in it. No matter how much she focused on the papers around them when he undid that button on his shirt she definitely caught sight of it. With the close proximity a few moments later it was hard to ignore him. Very hard indeed.

From such a short distance she had to look at him and she got a close look too. She observed the arch of his brow, the squint of his eyes, the lick of his lips... Eh? Lick of his lips? Why'd he have to go and do that? She averted her gaze, but the damage was done. She'd actually noticed he was attractive and for some reason... it seemed to have an effect.

She still hated him, no doubt about it, but she was still a girl and she wasn't blind.

Tris rolled her eyes as he snapped at her not to flatter herself. "It's not flattery if it's the truth," she muttered before gritting her teeth at his tone when he joked about firing someone bothering his 'precious assistant'. "I'm not joking. He's seriously useless. More useless than you, in fact. That's saying something."

Their position with him boxing her in, hand on either side of her... She was getting that uncomfortable feeling again, but is disappeared the minute he called her Trissie. She glared even let out a snarl through her gritted teeth. "Don't call me that! Merlin, it doesn't even sound cute, it just sounds stupid! And yeah, well I still don't like the Daily Prophet, but damn it, I need the money and with my skills it was an easy in. Besides, the work isn't so bad. At least I'm not working as a reporter, though I am doing their job half the time... My family is also off my case now so that's a relief."

Brogan went to say something else, but it seemed fate had other plans. She watched as he tripped on goodness knows what and went tumbling to the floor, papers following after him. At first she was stunned and simply sat there, but then as she saw all her hard work sprayed back across the room the anger flared to the surface in a split second. She grabbed Brogan off the floor, even as he called her a crazy girl and lifted him to his feet with ease. She then smacked him in the back of the head, not even thinking about it. "Look what you did! You clumsy.... argh!" She growled and shoved him aside looking through to see if the mess was... containable.

It wasn't.

She looked back at him with a glare, "I am not cleaning that up and doing it all over again. Forget it! You can do it yourself since you made the mess this time!" Useless. Definitely useless.

[brogan vassar]

He decided to laugh it off. Even though he'd tried to get into it with her, the reality was... It could be scary. Very scary. "Insult was not necessary. I wasn't kidding though, Tristise. I am going to fire him," he said honestly. Brogan was very serious about firing somebody that would be such a jerk. Especially when he knew Tristise had been so nice in the job.

Brogan nearly laughed at her outburst, but decided to protect himself and not. "You really think my nickname is meant to be cute? I know it bugs you. But I'm growing rather fond of it," he shrugged, and smiled smugly. "I could fire you for admitting your job hatred..." It was an empty threat of course, bordering more on a theory. "At least I have someone who hates it as much as me though. Money is money, however," it was a shrug. Not like he needed the extra money, but it was a bonus.

His trip certainly hadn't been graceful, and from the floor he groaned. Brogan shuddered at her violent touch, her strength as he was lifted to his feet. He despised her strength. "Ouch," he said aloud, rubbing his new wound. Brogan finally took the time to look around the room. "Shit... I didn't do it on purpose! This room's just so fucking messy..." He was just as angry at himself, at the entire situation.

"You're not going to leave it all to me, are you?" It was Brogan's turn to glare. He suddenly got mad at the fact that she'd just smacked him, for something that was anything but his fault. Just because his footing hadn't been impeccable didn't mean she could whip out her shewolf powers. And she lifted him up! Off the ground!

Brogan's glare deepened, and he unexpectedly lunged at Tristise, he held her tight, shoving her against the table and shaking her fiercely. "I didn't ask for it to happen! Save your creepy super human powers for someone else. I knew it wouldn't take much for your inner bitch to take over. You're insane, you freak out over the smallest of things!" Perhaps it was Brogan who snapped, all of the prior anger he'd felt toward her rushing back to him quickly.

He was much too close to her, and he hated the way, after he stopped yelling - how much he noticed his bodies reaction to her. He wanted to throw her, pull on her hair, rip her clothes off and... Oh... Why couldn't their hate be just that? All of the emotion poured into hate required too much passion... He disliked himself for getting distracted from his anger and hate due to her looks.

It was frustrating to say the least.
She was frustrating.

[Tristise Rederick]

He was really going to fire him? Tristise stared at him incredulously. She figured he'd say something more along the lines of 'maybe you just need to learn to deal with it better' or something... She never expected him to be seriously considering, or planning, to fire the guy just because Tristise mentioned it.

Sometimes Brogan was a surprising guy. Too bad for him Tristise wasn't really a fan of surprises.

"I didn't expect you to think it was cute either - I simply wish it was at least a tiny bit cute so it didn't grate on my nerves that much, but then I suppose you would be having any fun using it. Not that you should be using it anyway, boss. It's highly unprofessional." She rolled her eyes and shrugged. To his threat about firing her for admitting her job hatred she scoffed, "You wouldn't dare. You know, whether you like it or not, that I'm the best secretary you could ever have and that I'm simply irreplaceable." She smirked and gave him a 'I dare you to tell me otherwise' look.

"Why shouldn't I leave it all to you? You were the one who messed it up again." Despite her words she'd yet to make a move for the door, but apparently that didn't mean anything to him. Nope, he was still really pissed off with her. Surprisingly so. There he went, being surprising again. Damn him.

He leapt at her, pushing her against the table to which she grunted. That had hurt, actually hurt. He shook her and started yelling at her. My, my, my - he had quite the temper. And he said she was the one who blew up over the littlest things? Pot calling the kettle black. He also seemed to have just the 'slightest' problem with her strength. "Aw, feeling a bit inadequate, are we?" She yanked herself free of his grasp and then grabbed him and turned to push him up against a filing cabinet. For some reason though as she held him there an snarled at him she didn't just feel anger rising in her.

'Merlin, you take one good look at a person and suddenly your body has a mind of it's own,' she thought grimly. She still hated him, she still wanted to rip him limb from limb, but she had this funny warmth in the pit of her stomach too - which had oddly spiked when he yelled at her and exerted force. Well, as long as her brain was still the one in control it wasn't an issue for her and she'd ignore it and proceed with beating the crap out of him.

Except he was her boss. Fuck. She grit her teeth and though her hands shook a bit from the mental force she had to apply, she removed them from him and stepped back. She did slap him however because she wasn't just going to leave it at that. "That's for treating me like a rag doll. Don't just throw people around suddenly, especially when they didn't even do anything! I know I said I was leaving it to you, but I hadn't actually left to do so and despite my better judgment I wasn't going to."

Why was she being so calm? The anger was there, but with the way her body was reacting suddenly her brain wouldn't let it come out. Not physically anyway. "You're such an asshole - and yeah yeah, I know. I'm such a bitch. Honestly though, what if I was human and I didn't have super strength, huh? I would have been seriously hurt just now. I know though, if that was the case we probably wouldn't have a problem to begin with, right? Idiot." She grumbled as she bent down to pick up a few handfuls of paper. They made one hell of a team. Both rude, both easily angered, both clearly rather violent... If he had been a creature it'd be interesting to make wagers on which one survived. Since he was human though that took the fun out of it. Clearly she'd be the last one standing.

Though... he did show surprising strength when he shoved her around a moment before. No, Tristise was simply caught off guard. That was it. Yeah. He wasn't strong, he hadn't impressed her. She didn't like it. "Don't just stand there, help me sort out your mess," she mumbled, handing him a stack of papers and going back for more.