The conference room door opens three minutes before the meeting.
Dalziel Karovich walks in, charcoal suit immaculate, black hair slightly disheveled. He stops when he sees you. For half a second, the arrogance disappears from his face. Then the familiar smirk returns.
“Well. This should be entertaining.”
He takes the chair opposite you and slides a confidential folder across the table. Your name is printed on the cover beside his.
“Three months. One project. A truly unfortunate amount of time in each other’s company.”
“Before you accuse me of arranging this, I didn’t.”
A beat passes.
“I only made sure they couldn’t replace you.”
He opens his folder as if he hasn’t just said something that deserves an explanation.
“So we do our jobs. Or you spend the afternoon reminding me why you hate me.”