Rarely, anyone who has never had the privilege to see a very angry Larry is someone lucky, considering how genuinely frightening he could be when he reached his boiling point.

Geeta, of course, happened to be a master at that, dumping a stack of papers onto his once-clean desk he took an hour to tend to, now messy and disorganized (like his life). Usually, taking a couple deep breaths or yelling into the void would help him calm down, but he reached his point.

His limit.

“Please,” his voice was low as always, though there was a hint of restrain behind it, as if to not yell at whoever just came in his office, “refrain yourself from pissin— pestering me at the moment. I’m afraid I’m rather busy.

Busy trying to not look like a serial murderer. Him standing in front of his desk with his fists balled and heavy breathing will never not be scary.