"What is that?" she asked cautiously when she saw him freeze in shock. He held a single sheet of paper in his hands.
"The damage report from the fire from last night. We…" He sighed and put the report down on his desk. "We are going to have to stay in the ballroom for about a month while repairs are made."
"A month?!"
The silver-haired man spread his hands out helplessly. "You saw the damage."
"How much is this going to cost?" She sat down on the edge of his desk and picked up the report. "…$78,962,541. Why am I not surprised? Does this include the expenses of replacing the furniture and the students' personal belongings?"
"Thankfully, yes." He ran a hand through his hair. "This will require fundraisers and budget cuts."
"Don't you dare touch the art program."
"I wouldn't dream of it." An amused smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. "There is still the matter of what to do with team MSRD."
"Ah, yes. The team who caused the fire. If Miss Naess hadn't been sick with the flu in the infirmary…" Glynda sighed. "I suggest those responsible be given latrine cleaning duty."
"Your uniform is showing, General. I will have to think on it. And if you see MSRD, please send them to my office."
"Yes, sir." The blond gave a crisp salute but smiled impishly. "I will see you at lunch. Please actually get some work down today. That means no working on your weapon designs."
"If I sell them –"
"No."
"No fundraisers –"
"Ozpin…"
"No budget cuts –"
"Alexander." There was a note of utter finality in that one word, and he knew that if he continued to try to reason with her, full names would be dropped and war would be declared.
Ozpin sighed. "Very well. Thank you, Glynda."
She nodded and turned to walk out the door. He briefly thought about sliding his designs out as soon as the elevator doors closed, but the brief glare she sent him before disappearing from sight completely was enough to dismiss that idea completely.
A/N: The leader of MSRD (pronounced "Mustard") is Maya Naess. Pun intended.