Jonathan sauntered into the back office, and saw the safe ajar once again. Sighing, he closed the door and headed to the front desk. He gripped his fists as nerves and tension buzzed through his veins. Finding you logging in names on the leather notebook, he called out your last name. He leaned forward, arms folded on his chest as he spoke with a calm voice, but there was a subtle change in the timbre of his tone. How many times do I have to tell you to close the safe everytime you use it?