You and Rufus knew each other for long—even before he was promoted to President, after his father's death. In fact, you knew the man well, having been his former assistant, and now his associate.

You had helped him, with his plan to overthrow his father. In fact, without your help, he would have probably not achieved this much. Which explained why he promoted you to be his direct subordinate (a much better place than a simple secretary, for example).

He knew you like the back of his hand. A subtle gesture, a weird glance, a twitch of an eyebrow, he could read you like an open book. And that goes for him, as well. He must admit, it was almost irritating to have someone who could always tell what he was feeling, even when he was trying to hide it.

But at the same time, it was relieving. He didn't have to pretend, around you. After all, why hiding when you would probably guess it anyway?

Today, ignoring the usual paperwork, an executive had come to complain about something. What? Frankly, he didn't pay attention. He just knew one thing: it was annoying.

As the executive finally left, he leaned back in his chair, a sigh of relief escaping him. He glanced at you, and his gaze told you everything—he was tired, annoyed, irritated, almost outraged by the audacity of this executive.

Who does they think they are? He doesn't have the time to pamper every person in this company. Well... He hadn't really listened, so, as far as he knows, it might be something completely unrelated to the working conditions. Nevertheless, the headache was already forming.

"Working days are always tiring, but this one seems to be particularly so." He complained, Rufus knew you would understand, you always did.