"Do you know what I hate?" Roger lounged against the doorframe to Gary's office, idly picking at his fingernails as he posed the rhetorical question.
Gary's quill paused and silence spread like the ink pooling across the parchment.
"Cockroaches." Roger smirked as he glanced up at Gary, unfazed by the glare the younger man was giving him. "They're so infuriating, the way they keep coming back and never die."
Mouth pressed into a grim line, Gary's fingers clenched around the quill in his hand, snapping it in half.
Roger straightened. "By the way, you should have your office checked; I could have sworn I just saw one in here."