*yawns* *is a tired AL*

*******************************************************************************

He walked over to his desk and she followed, ignoring the hard chair directly in front of the desk in favor of one of the comfy ones placed to the side. The boss steepled his fingers together and looked at her. She ignored him in favor of looking at a painting of a nighttime Paris street scene. It was looking down a street at the Eiffel tower, lit windows reflecting on the wet street. The tower in the back was large enough to be the focal point of the piece, but there was something about the piece that just didn't inspire her. She couldn't place what it was, as there were a few things that just felt off to her.

She frowned a bit, narrowing her eyes as she tried to place what annoyed her about the piece. For one thing, the colors were too dark. Paris just wasn't that black; too much light would have been reflected down from those clouds she could see crowding the top of the piece. There wasn't that feeling of vibrancy that she got from the Meyer; instead this one felt drab, dull. As if it were only a reflection of the real Paris.

As soon as she thought that, she realized that was indeed the case. Certain imperfections around the sides were there to suggest the edge of a puddle. Intrigued by the concept she looked at it more sharply. The picture still seemed a bit stiff to her, but she had renewed appreciation for what the artist was trying to attempt.

A non-subtle clearing of the throat took her attention away from the scene.

"Are you quite finished staring at my art collection?" he asked a bit petulantly.

"That depends," she said easily, leaning back in the chair, her action at odds with her question. "Are you quite done staring at me?"

He laughed, one quick bark that made the men to either side of him jump She tried to not compare him unfavorably to a seal, but it was hard. "You've got balls," he said grudgingly, nodding once with each word.

"Actually, I don't. But let's not quibble anatomy."

He laughed again, the same quick, harsh, humorless sound, then changed the subject a bit. "I don't suppose you realize just what sort of trouble you are in here? You seem to be treating this meeting rather lightly."

"Trouble, sir?" Her face took on a slightly too earnest expression, and she scaled it back to something that wouldn't be seen as mocking before continuing. "I realize that my performance has been slacking as of late, but that's not my fault. I can only fix the problems they find, and we've reached a point where we're almost through pre-production. I'm sure once we really get in the swing of production that we'll find lots of problems for me to try to fix again." She affixed an earnest expression to her face and waited for his response.

He looked at her blankly for a moment as he tried to understand her response. It wasn't the one he had been expecting, and she could see him discarding a preplanned speech as he said, "This isn't about your job performance."

"Oh. All right, then, what seems to be your problem?"

He stared at her, a smile twitching at the edge of his mouth. He quit fighting it after a moment and leaned back in his chair and laughed. His eyes drifted towards the ceiling as he guffawed, one hand pounding the arm of his chair. She glanced at the ceiling, following his gaze to make sure that she wasn't missing the joke somewhere, but there was nothing there. She dropped her gaze and watched his as he laughed, the solemnity lost from his face, and leaving a visage that she found herself liking. He brought himself under control quickly, the blank mask pulled over his features again and the passionless eyes weighing her. Shaking his head and looking at her, he sighed and finally spoke.

"My problem is that I have a plant working for me, but she's not in the right job."

"That's a slightly racist comment," she said mildly, but didn't want to dwell on that issue. She felt safer referring to what she received her paycheck for than the implied racism that lingered between them. "I thought I was doing ok," she said after he didn't say anything in response. Silence stretched between them as he waited for her to say more and as she refused to.

"Oh, yes. I was looking over your records this weekend. Aside from a tendency to not arrive on time, you've been quite the good little worker, haven't you?" A short pause, during which he tried to pierce her with his gaze. "Why?"

"Why what, sir?" She met his eyes calmly, volunteering nothing until the questions were a bit more clarified.

"Why are you working here?" He emphasized the you, and she knew that it had much less to do with why she herself was working there, and why a free plant had the guts to work in the one place on the planet that she was least welcome.

She smiled a bit, more with her eyes than her lips. "Because you pay me. And after working here, I can afford to pay my rent." The comment could have been facetious, but she delivered it as matter-of-factly as possible.

"Why here? You could have a job anywhere. Why here, why this?"

She sighed and dropped her eyes, one hand leaving her lap to play with the overstuffed arm of the chair. The brocade of the upholstery felt stiff to her as she idly fingered the threads, letting her thoughts collect into a cohesive mass before she opened her mouth. Lifting her eyes again, she locked gazes with him and began to explain herself.