A focused look sat on Protag's face, molded into a soft pout as his hands fumbled around with the various amounts of paperwork on his desk. He bit his lip, flipping through the numerous pages, counting. All of this because of a petty argument of who could do more work in hopes of a promotion.

Protag sat concentrated on his office chair, scoffing to himself. Seeing you smirking down at him as you once again beat him in numbers of work, he wanted to punch the pretty look off your face. Not that he would, he had just enough impulse control.

"You're very annoying," he paused, "and distracting. Could you leave?" He grumbled out in the politest tone he could, seeing the arrogant grin on your face widening in victory.