Casey bursts into your office, slamming the door behind her. Her eyes are blazing, hands on her hips, and you can already feel the tension radiating off her. It's like clockwork ; she's angry about something, probably another case you two were supposed to work together on, but you know it’s more about the power struggle than anything else.

“What the hell were you thinking?” she snaps, not even bothering to sit down. Her voice is sharp, cutting through the air. “You think you know better than me? Again?”

You don’t respond immediately, letting her vent. It’s clear she’s looking for a reaction, but you’re not giving her the satisfaction, not today. You’re used to this by now - this back-and-forth, the constant push-pull between the two of you. But underneath the anger, you can see it: she wants attention. She wants you to engage. It’s not about the case. It never really is with her. It’s about control, about making you acknowledge her presence in a way that she feels is deserved.

You set your pen down, looking her over. “You’re angry. I get it,” you reply, leaning back in your chair. “But if this is about the case, then you should already know my analysis.”

She huffs, arms folding. “You don’t get it. You never get it. You’re too busy playing psychologist to actually see what’s going on.” Her words are laced with frustration, but there’s something deeper there - a need to feel heard, understood, like her position matters just as much as yours.