A/N: Poppy and Sonny in the same scene together! Finally! XD (World's worst updater, that's me.)

DAY 10, Sonny wrote at the top of the page in fat capital letters. Joanna obnoxious today. Complained about the Koko Kringle stash in my desk. I told her I needed them to work. Gotta keep those sugar levels high. Doctor's orders. She didn't buy it. Afraid my charm's starting to wear off. Damn. I was doing so well this time. Question: Is it ethical to surreptitiously plant "offensive" candy around the boss's office when she's not looking, perhaps as a means of slow psychological torture? Answer: Irrelevant. I'm doing it. Interesting experiment to keep me busy, anyway.

Sonny sighed and started doodling in the margin of his notebook. Beech Hill was deadly boring today. With Joanna gone, he had nothing to do, no tasks to complete, no orders to shirk. After she'd bitched about the chocolate for a good ten minutes (honestly, he'd never met anyone so opposed to candy), she'd headed off for a meeting at the Mexican consulate. He had to assume that was the main reason she was in such a foul mood—probably nothing to do with him. The idea of losing her good graces bothered him a touch more than it should. He did really want this job to last—at least for a few months. Now was when the real test began. Once the first flush of the honeymoon period wore off, he always found it much harder to stick around.

Logically, he ought to be on his best behavior now, what with the proverbial stick already wedged up the ass of the Lovely Ms. Riggs, but the candy thing was just too good to resist. He pulled open his candy drawer noisily (ignoring Henrik's loud sigh from across the room), pulled out five Koko Kringles, and bounced out the door.

He'd swiped Joanna's office key on his first day and made a copy of it during his lunch break. He'd had it back in its drawer before anyone noticed its absence. He made an effort to get keys made for every place he worked. You just never knew when that kind of thing would come in handy. It wasn't like he was stealing from them, it was just—well, it all served a higher purpose, didn't it? Everything he did, he did for comedy. It was a shame most of his former bosses had never seen it that way.

He pulled the key out of his pocket and twisted it in the knob. After shutting the door behind him, he flicked on the light and glanced around Joanna's office. It was nice, as far as offices went. He liked the way she'd filled it with Mayan décor—jade statues, wooden masks, glass jewelry—even if it made him wonder why such things weren't in the museum proper, locked away safe behind glass doors. Well, that question could wait. Right now he was only interested in all the hiding spots Joanna's treasures made possible.

He tiptoed toward her bookshelf and slid one Koko Kringle bar between two ebony jaguars. He had a notion that he would keep adding chocolate bars to her office every day, just to see how long it would take her to notice them. He was looking around for another hiding spot when he heard a knock on the door.

For a moment, he froze. Was Joanna back already? He immediately dismissed the idea. Why would she knock on her own door? It had to be someone else, maybe Henrik or a deliveryman. If he just stood here quietly for a few minutes, they'd probably go away.

"Joanna!" The voice on the other side of the door was high-pitched, with the slightest hint of an accent. "Joanna, I know you're in there, I can see the light under the door!"

Damn, Sonny thought, gritting his teeth. Lesson learned. Taking a deep breath, he put his hand on the knob and yanked the door open.

The man outside stepped back, wringing his hands together. He was a short, balding Asian man, with a greasy, thin mustache just over his lip. The man's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Where's Ms. Riggs?" the man asked, perplexed.

"Out," Sonny said curtly. Throwing his hand against his hip, he asked, "May I take a message?"

"Well, it's not a message, per se," the man said, suddenly flustered. He flashed a smile and smoothed his tie, which was covered in an alarming, swirling neon pattern. "Sorry. I'm Taylor Sinclair. I sometimes do appraisal and acquisition work for Beech Hill."

Sonny nodded, biting the inside of his cheek. It was difficult for him to form thoughts while in the presence of the man's radioactive tie. He couldn't tear his eyes away from it.

"I brought someone very special with me," Sinclair continued, pulling his lips into another tight smile. "I was rather hoping Ms. Riggs would get a chance to meet her…"

"Her?" Sonny echoed. The man was talking in circles. Sonny threw a pleading look over Sinclair's shoulder, half-hoping Joanna would burst in and save him from further painful conversation. No such luck. The only other person in the lobby was a young woman who kept folding and refolding the maps on the front desk.

"Are you talking about me, Taylor?" the woman suddenly said. She tucked a map under her arm and bounded over to the office door. "I'm right here, you know!"

Sinclair glanced at her and smiled. "Yes, I was just informing this young man that you were here. Might I introduce Miss Poppy Dada, one of the most exciting young artists I've seen in years."

"Shut up," the girl said, rolling her eyes. She pinched her lips between her teeth and glanced in Sonny's direction. The first thing he noticed about her was her hair—a wild tangle of orange curls, springing free from a tight ponytail. It seemed to defy all natural laws of physics, haloing around her head as if she'd just slid her feet across a carpet and zapped herself with a metal doorknob. He half expected to see little zings of electricity jumping through it. With the amount of copper bangles around her arms, ears, and neck, she'd certainly be a great conductor. She was dressed in typical Bohemian tripe, all loose skirts and shawls that covered her actual shape. Sonny thought that was a shame. Her face looked cute enough, but her big clothes and bulky jewelry and busy spray of hair could almost make you forget it.

The girl was still staring at Sonny with her weirdly focused gaze. She looked like she was struggling not to smile.

"Well," Sonny said, drawing the word out into several syllables. "Joanna won't be back for a while, so…" He just wanted them out so he could finish what he'd started.

Almost intuitively, the girl's eyes suddenly shifted to the candy in his hands. Her nose wrinkled. "Koko Kringles? You actually like those?"

Sonny could take a lot. He'd been fired for 24 times, for God's sake, and that toughened you up quite a bit. He was an expert, basically, on not giving a shit. But this—two Koko Kringle haters in one day—it was really too much.

"And you don't?" he said quietly, poison on every word.

Poppy Dada merely raised her eyebrows. "They're disgusting."

"Blasphemy," Sonny spat, narrowing his eyes. Very deliberately, he tore off one of the wrappers and bit into the chocolate, smacking his lips together. "Mmmmmmmm."

Poppy shrugged her thin shoulders, setting off a wave of jangling bracelets. "Whatever. I'm going to head back to my hotel, Taylor. See you tomorrow, maybe."

She was still staring at Sonny when she said it.

"Of course, Miss Dada," Sinclair said, bobbing and groveling in the doorway. "Next time I'll call to make sure the management is here first."

"Good idea," Poppy said, her voice arched with sarcasm. "Make sure Chocolate Boy won't be here next time."

Sonny spluttered, chocolate crumbs spilling out of his mouth. "That's what you're going to call me? For the love of… look, at least let me respectfully ask for a nickname appeal. 'Cause that one just bites."

"Noted. Considered." Poppy paused, sliding her lip through her teeth. "...Rejected."

"…the hell?" Sonny frowned, putting his hand on the door. He directed his attention to Sinclair, who looked like he wanted to sink into the floor. "Yeah, kindly keep her away from me when you guys come back." He slammed the door before he could change his mind.