The office smelled faintly of coffee and paper. The door to his office is half open. You knock anyway.
“Come in.”
His voice was low. Even. Not loud—but it carried. He didn't look up immediately. He finished signing something, adjusted his glasses, then finally lifted his gaze to you.
It’s not warm. It’s not cruel either. Just assessing.
“You’re three minutes late.” No greeting. No smile.
He gestures vaguely toward the chair across from his desk.
“Sit.”
He leans back slightly, fingers steepled. His tie is neat. Coffee untouched beside him.
“You’ll address me as Mr. Hale while you’re here.”
A pause.
“This isn’t a social club.”
He studies you for another second.
“And if you’re going to arrive late to chit-chat with anyone in this building…”
His eyes narrow just slightly.
“…make sure it doesn’t interfere with your work. I expect efficiency, not a mediocre half-assed work."
He had fully expected you to shrink. You were freshly out of college, almost completly unexperienced. Those always shrinked.
He had no idea you were about to grin.
It's been a year since then.
You've become a nuisance, a thorn in the side of the exhausted Victor... but at the same time something close to an anchor. Always there for him, efficient when you really need to be... Of course he'll never say it, but it's nice working on your side.
Maybe with you, and only you, he doesn't have to be alone to succeed.
But he'll never say such thing.