TEMPERANCE… Write about someone who uses patience or self-control in a difficult situation.
"No, Mr Callen, " Hetty firmly told one of her best agents. "That is not going to happen."
The man positively pouted at her, though he would never ridiculous.
"Come on, Hetty," he said coaxingly. "You have to admit that it's a good idea."
There were a series of nods from her two agents and detective behind him. She was surprised that Sam was going along with this, he was usually the one to curb these sorts of things.
"Absolutely not," she replied in a firmer tone and shuffled some of her papers to indicate that this conversation was over.
Of course, that didn't stop Mr Callen, it never had and probably never would. It was rather annoying.
"It's all planned out," he continued.
"It does not matter for I have instructed that you do not do it."
Miss Blye and Mr Deeks were exchanging slightly nervous looks. Good, at least some people were paying attention. Mr Hanna, however, still looked amused. This could be problematic.
Oh yes, that was a definite pout from Mr Callen. It came out so little that it never ceased to amuse her when he did employ it. As long as he wasn't trying to use it against her. It rarely worked and you'd think he'd know that by now.
"But, Hetty-"
She slowly counted to ten in Romanian in her head and then in Turkish. The pleading expression was still there.
"No."
Thankfully, he fell silent at that. Probably thinking of another way to try and get his own way but silent nonetheless.
"It wouldn't exactly hurt to do it," Deeks voiced hesitantly but still somewhat eagerly.
Miss Blye was correct, the man really was like an enthusiastic puppy sometimes. The look on his face would not look out of place on one. Hetty turned her stare to her Detective, who satisfyingly squirmed.
"Mr Deeks, it may not cause any harm, relatively speaking but that does not mean one should do it."
Mr Deeks' mouth snapped shut at that proclamation and frowned in thought.
"We could do it," Kensi insisted, backing her partner up.
"Miss Blye, it is not a matter of you being able to do it-"
"Do you think we couldn't?" Mr Callen asked in a mock hurt tone and turned to Mr Hanna, "She doesn't think our skills are sharp enough."
She silenced him with a glare for daring to interrupt her. Honestly, Saint Peter himself would have trouble managing this lot. Resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose, Hetty took a deep breath.
"I am extremely aware of each of your abilities," she explained slowly, hoping it his would actually sink into their heads. "Of course, you are all more than capable. But it is still not going to happen."
A clatter of poorly chosen footwear came from the stairs before anyone could add something. They all turned around, her team thankful and her displeased for the distraction. It was Mr Beale, of course.
"Guys, me and Nell have it all set up. We're good to-"
Her Technical Operator trailed off when he finally noticed the incredibly obvious 'stop' gestures everyone was directing him. Hetty folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. He automatically started to stutter.
"You know, uh, I need to, um, fix something in Ops," he managed to get out, turning to go back up the stairs.
"You do that, Mr Beale and please return down here with Miss Jones."
He gulped and turned to face her, biting his lower lip.
"Hetty?"
"Five minutes should be long enough, " she determined, giving him a pointed look.
He sighed in response and replied with a quiet, "Yes, Hetty," be free trudging back upstairs.
She shook her head; the boy was too easy to draw into this team's ridiculous plans. Miss Jones wasn't much better.
Mr Hanna opened his mouth, Hetty stared at him.
"Not until everyone is present," she told him.
She didn't want to repeat herself any more than she already had. She had limits.
It only took two minutes for Mr Beale to return with a wary Miss Jones by his side, his excuse of 'fixing' something obviously not valid. Hetty indicated that they should join her uneven line of miscreants in front of her desk.
"May I ask why Mr Beale and Miss Jones had already got your little 'operation' already set up before you got authorisation?" she demanded, fixing the position of her glasses.
They all gaped at her as she accurately guessed what they had been up to. Well, Mr Callen didn't. He just looked amused. Why they were still surprised about this, she really didn't know.
"Rule nineteen," Mr Callen tried.
Oh, very clever of him but it wasn't going to work. Nope.
"No. It is still not going to happen," she informed their fallen faces.
"Now," she continued, folding her hands under her chin. "You are all going to return to your desks and complete your outstanding reports with no shenanigans."
She got several mullish looks in response. Children. She was managing children.
"Is that clear?"
"Yes, Hetty," came the ragged response.
She shoes them away, hoping that it would at least slow down any mischief until the end of the day.
They whispered rapidly to each other as they all made their way to the desks. Her eyes narrowed as Mr Callen made a shushing noise.
"For the last time, Mr Callen, you are not antagonising the CIA for the mere purpose of 'keeping them on their toes'. Am I clear?" She told his back.
She got a lazy wave in return as he continued to listen to the team's hushed chattered.
Falling back tiredly in her chair, Hetty removed her glasses and rubbed a hand across her face.
They weren't going to listen, were they? Sighing and looking longingly at the drawer she kept her scotch in, she instead reached for the phone. Hetty figured that she'd need it more after the conversations she was about to have.
May as well mitigate some of the damage now for them. Without them knowing, of course, they had to sweat for at least an hour or so when it all inevitably went ear shaped. She had enough patience to make it happen.
Hopefully Owen didn't interfere.