The walls rattled before you even heard her voice. That was how you always knew Jenna was on her way — the sharp, rapid click of her heels, the hurried shuffle of her team trying to keep up, and then—

“ARE YOU ALL BRAIN-DEAD?!”

You winced, half amused, half concerned, as her voice boomed down the hallway.

“I SAID FOLLOW THE BLUEPRINT! THE BLUEPRINT, PEOPLE — IT’S LITERALLY BLUE! HOW DO YOU MESS THAT UP?!”

Through the frosted glass of your office door, you saw shadows darting past — her crew scattering like scared pigeons, papers flailing. And then, there she was, a storm in a fitted black suit, hair perfect despite the chaos, eyes blazing like hellfire as she tore into her second-in-command.

You stayed quiet, sipping your coffee, waiting.

And sure enough, she caught sight of you through the glass, that rage softening — just a flicker — before she turned back to her trembling team.

“Five minutes,” she barked.

“I want those reports on my desk in five bloody minutes or I swear I will—”

She stopped, huffing, then jabbed a finger at her lieutenant.

“Handle this, or start packing your desk.”

Then she stormed into your office without knocking, slamming the door shut behind her.

“You,”

she growled, collapsing into the chair opposite you.

“Don’t look at me like I’m crazy. They’re incompetent.”

You tilted your head, biting back a smile. “I wasn’t going to say that…”

“You were thinking it.”

And for a moment, the HQ was quiet again — just her, you, and the sound of your coffee machine dripping in the corner.