04. Summary
Even though the girl he prefers is a girl he can use (also the type of girl fitted to be a manager) he couldn't think of another word to describe her.
Looking up from his laptop, "Hey damn manager, where are…."
"Stop calling me that!" Sick to the teeth with her oh-so-inspiring 'nickname', Anezaki Mamori interrupted him, clutching her clipboard and eyeing the blond menacingly. "I have a name you know, why can't you just call me Anezaki-san? Mamori-kun at the least."
Hiruma eyed her for a moment, then smirked rather rudely. "Can't stand to be the Damn Manager anymore? Well then." He took time to lean back comfortably in his chair. "Let's see….what else to call you…." he grinned, tossing out a few options, "Fucking cream-puff, Annoying woman, Art school flunkie, Fucking mother hen," he counted off names on the tips of his long fingers, "Damned snacker, Fucking know-it-all, Analogue Only, Fucking apple polisher."
Though Mamori looked ready to kill he continued, looking at her sideways, eyes glittering with amusement," Neat Freak, Scrubbers, Mop Top, Cosplayer, Damn eye-candy, Satake-Yamaoka Bait. Do any of those better suit your tastes?" Mute with anger she stood, beet red, trying desperately to find something, anything to throw back at him that he wouldn't take as a complement.
Hiruma stood and, taking his sweet time, slowly stepped into her personal space. Head cocked and grinning, he looked perfectly vicious. "Perhaps you like those names better? But, maybe they were too mean; hmmm?" She pursed her lips, eyes flaming, but again she could produce no sound. Youichi's smile turned frightfully pleasant. He patted her on the shoulder, "Alright then, I'll be nice from now on, okay? And if you like, I won't yell when I talk to you, either. I'll speak in whispers, just for you, and just call you…" he leaned in close, just inches from her right ear, "Mamori." He could feel her tremble.
Throat frozen, Mamori could only stare wide-eyed into the open air. She clutched her mop to her like a lifeline, blushing furiously. "No comment? You're making this very hard, you know." The Spartan captain straightened, shrugging the moment off, as if he'd just given up trying to remember something unimportant. Heading back to his seat he continued, "Guess you're gonna be stuck with Damn Manager until I find something more descriptive. Now," he crossed a leg over the other, returning to his work, "Where's that report on Ojou you were getting me?"