Unsurprisingly, Mr. Marcone was awake when Hendricks returned. Hendricks was occasionally tempted to drug his boss’ coffee. Of course, even if it was tasteless and scentless, Mr. Marcone would know.
Mr. Marcone put down his pen when Hendricks walked in the room. His expression didn’t change at Hendricks’ look of disapproval. They did this often.
“Dresden’s a little shook up but fine,” Hendricks reported first. Mr. Marcone still viewed Dresden as one of his, and he was protective of his own. Even now, he watched his boss look him up and down to make sure he was all right. Mr. Marcone nodded, and Hendricks resumed, describing the incident.
By the end of it, Mr. Marcone’s mouth was pursed in a thoughtful frown. “He said the creature’s behavior was unusual?”
Hendricks nodded. “He wasn’t expecting it to be aggressive at all.” And the paranoid bastard expected everyone to try and kill him, but he didn’t add that. No need.
Mr. Marcone continued frowning. “Keep an eye on him. I’ll contact Ms. Gard.”
Hendricks nodded again. He didn’t move away. Mr. Marcone sighed and pushed away from his desk. “I’ll contact you in the morning.”
Only when Mr. Marcone moved toward the door did Hendricks start to leave. Overpaid babysitter. Really.
Mr. Marcone eyed him as they walked down the hall together. That was never good. “You are complaining far less now than when you originally began following Mr. Dresden,” he commented.
Hendricks found himself bristling. He straightened his shoulders and kept his face blank. “I didn’t complain,” he replied. Only a trace of indignity touched his voice. He was a professional, after all.
Mr. Marcone raised an eyebrow. “You texted me on the hour every hour with a dissection of what you called Mr. Dresden’s ‘issues.’ You stated he was inspiring you to change your field to psychology. You offered to stop mentioning my sleep habits for a week if I let you follow Mr. Raith instead.”
Hendricks resolutely stared forward. Neither mentioned that Mr. Marcone could have gone on for a couple more minutes. He hadn’t even mentioned the emails.
Still, having Dresden as a psych specimen would make any psychologist green with envy.
“My texting thumb was getting sore,” he replied simply. It had, actually. His trigger finger had never grown tired no matter what battlefield he found himself, but Dresden tired out his texting thumb. It didn’t surprise him.
Mr. Marcone hummed. “You also didn’t glare at me earlier in the week when the report on Mr. Raith came in.”
The report that covered as many waking hours as possible and listed every time Raith so much as looked at Dresden. Hendricks grunted. “No point.” Because of course Dresden would have a vampire for an ex while there was a war going on between vampires and wizards. Of course. Sex vampire, even.
Mr. Marcone kept watching him out of the corner of his eye. He had another verbal bullet waiting to be shot, but he didn’t. Hendricks knew what it was.
He hadn’t said a word about Gard, either.
Hendricks and Mr. Marcone went their separate ways with barely a word said and too many dangling in the middle. Hendricks took a page out of Dresden’s book and didn’t look at them.
He who said there was no darkness but ignorance never saw inside John Marcone’s heart.
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timeasmymeasure
Fill 3/?
Date: 2011-03-30 09:53 pm (UTC)Mr. Marcone put down his pen when Hendricks walked in the room. His expression didn’t change at Hendricks’ look of disapproval. They did this often.
“Dresden’s a little shook up but fine,” Hendricks reported first. Mr. Marcone still viewed Dresden as one of his, and he was protective of his own. Even now, he watched his boss look him up and down to make sure he was all right. Mr. Marcone nodded, and Hendricks resumed, describing the incident.
By the end of it, Mr. Marcone’s mouth was pursed in a thoughtful frown. “He said the creature’s behavior was unusual?”
Hendricks nodded. “He wasn’t expecting it to be aggressive at all.” And the paranoid bastard expected everyone to try and kill him, but he didn’t add that. No need.
Mr. Marcone continued frowning. “Keep an eye on him. I’ll contact Ms. Gard.”
Hendricks nodded again. He didn’t move away. Mr. Marcone sighed and pushed away from his desk. “I’ll contact you in the morning.”
Only when Mr. Marcone moved toward the door did Hendricks start to leave. Overpaid babysitter. Really.
Mr. Marcone eyed him as they walked down the hall together. That was never good. “You are complaining far less now than when you originally began following Mr. Dresden,” he commented.
Hendricks found himself bristling. He straightened his shoulders and kept his face blank. “I didn’t complain,” he replied. Only a trace of indignity touched his voice.
He was a professional, after all.
Mr. Marcone raised an eyebrow. “You texted me on the hour every hour with a dissection of what you called Mr. Dresden’s ‘issues.’ You stated he was inspiring you to change your field to psychology. You offered to stop mentioning my sleep habits for a week if I let you follow Mr. Raith instead.”
Hendricks resolutely stared forward. Neither mentioned that Mr. Marcone could have gone on for a couple more minutes. He hadn’t even mentioned the emails.
Still, having Dresden as a psych specimen would make any psychologist green with envy.
“My texting thumb was getting sore,” he replied simply. It had, actually. His trigger finger had never grown tired no matter what battlefield he found himself, but Dresden tired out his texting thumb. It didn’t surprise him.
Mr. Marcone hummed. “You also didn’t glare at me earlier in the week when the report on Mr. Raith came in.”
The report that covered as many waking hours as possible and listed every time Raith so much as looked at Dresden. Hendricks grunted. “No point.” Because of course Dresden would have a vampire for an ex while there was a war going on between vampires and wizards. Of course. Sex vampire, even.
Mr. Marcone kept watching him out of the corner of his eye. He had another verbal bullet waiting to be shot, but he didn’t. Hendricks knew what it was.
He hadn’t said a word about Gard, either.
Hendricks and Mr. Marcone went their separate ways with barely a word said and too many dangling in the middle. Hendricks took a page out of Dresden’s book and didn’t look at them.
He who said there was no darkness but ignorance never saw inside John Marcone’s heart.
Or Harry Dresden’s.