"C-Carolyn. I-I was wondering… A-about my w-wage…?" Martin stuttered.
"Take double," Carolyn smirked.
"I'm serious, Knapp-Shappey!" Martin yelled as he kicked the chair, snapping one of its legs in two.
Martin had been having really bad mood swings lately; continuously alternating from anger, to violence (the poor chair), to depression (he'd cried the other day because the door latch stuck), to mania (he laughed for a full hour yesterday day at a joke Arthur read out from a Christmas cracker).
Martin blinked and seemed to return to his 'normal' self. "Oh, God. I-I-I'm s-sorry! Shouldn't break things…"
"Just go away and stop talking about wages," She dismissed. Martin hung his head and walked out of the portacabin, shoulders slumped.
She returned to her paperwork. A profit! Martin was very useful this year.
Carolyn hardly noticed Douglas swanning in – twenty minutes late – until he gasped. "What happened to the chair?"
"Martin," She answered simply, rolling her eyes, "If it didn't cost money, I'd send him on an anger management course."
"Aren't you worried about him?!" Douglas demanded.
"I don't really care. His problems are just that – his," Carolyn shrugged.
Douglas was about to rebottle when the door to the crashed open. Arthur was leading a miserable, limping Martin into the portacabin. "It's ok, Skip," Arthur soothed.
Douglas saw the brick dust on his knee along with blood seeping through the polyester. "Martin? What happened?" Douglas asked, concerned.
"I-I might have g-gotten f-frustrated…" Martin stuttered. Arthur helped him sit down on the sofa and sat beside him, Douglas did the same.
Martin's knuckles were a torn, bloody mess. "What happened to your knuckles, Martin?" Douglas asked, but the captain broke down into tears.
"Skip wouldn't stop punching the wall…" Arthur explained.
"Martin; stop sobbing, calm down and go home. You should learn not to be so hot headed," Carolyn huffed before going back to her paperwork. It was suddenly very quiet – besides Martin's attempt at stifling his sobs and hiccups.
She looked up. Arthur's jaw hung open; his eyes bulged, filling with disappointment, and his brow furrowed. Douglas looked ready to beat her to death at any moment. "Come on, Arthur; let's get Martin patched up elsewhere…" Douglas grabbed the first aid kit and the steward and first officer lead a still sobbing Martin out of the door.
Carolyn sighed, she just wanted to be in her own bed.