Author's Note : Jeez, I'm such a slacker. I should have worked on this ages ago. Well, what can you do? Sorry for the silence, but I hit a jam of sorts. There are several large parts I have already written but I am having trouble drawing the line from point "A" to point "B". In short I had writers block. That plus everything has gone haywire. Sharys
Disclaimer : Not mine. (shows the pathetic state of her tattered jeans and bleach-stained sweatshirt) Do I LOOK like I have money?
CHAPTER FIVE
He had a headache. No, not just a headache, but a migraine. A blinding migraine that felt as if a whole team of construction workers were using jackhammers against his skull. He had taken something for it over an hour ago and was still waiting for the drugs to kick in. And to make things worse, the ice was back with a vengeance, making it damn near impossible to function. Why the hell had he come to work today?
Because you're behind, he reminded himself viciously. And because some of this can't wait.
He stood in the elevator, rubbing his forehead as he waited for his floor. He winced slightly as the bell chimed when he reached his destination, and exited swiftly. Were bells really recessary anymore? Maybe he should have them removed . . .
He froze, stock still, as a familiar man carrying a massive stack of paperwork struggled to open an office door without dropping anything. As Seto watched, one of the secretaries rushed over to help, holding the door for the small man, who gave a smile in thanks, and then disappeared into the small room.
Can't the past just leave me alone for one day?! He asked himself, anger spreading before he even realized it.
Migraine momentarily forgotten, Seto grabbed the secretary's shoulder, whirling her about to face him. "What the hell is that man doing here?" he demanded, pointing angrily at the office.
The woman, a timid brunette of twenty, trembled under the fierce glare of her employer. "M-Mr. Mutou?" she squeaked. "He s-started just last w-week, s-sir, covering for J-Jaminson."
"Under who's authority?"
The poor woman cowered like a mouse from a lion. "Young M-Mr. Kaiba, I-I th-think . . ."
With a frustrated snort, he released the woman and stormed off to give his brother a piece of his mind before his migraine decided to return.
Author's Note: This is a partial chapter to let you know that I'm alive. Expect the full chapter by next week, and with any luck it will be a long one. Sorry for the teaser. Sharys