Jezebel made her way to Beach Head's office, knocking loudly on his door. Working on his own report, he called out to the person without looking up. "Enter."

"Here." She thrust the report at him, rudely. She felt to compelling need to be overly curious about it.

"That was fast." He looked it over. Something told him that the woman before him was not a computer savvy person, much like himself.

"I had my assistant type it. Ya should get one yerself." She gave him a smug look.

"The newbie right? Nice to see she can do something right." He continued to read, not all that interested in making conversation, especially with Jezebel.

Taking some offense, and also feeling a need to defend for some unknown reason, Jezebel replied, "She's good, ya just run 'er to death."

He snorted at that. "Needs to learn what orders are and that you're suppose to follow them." 'Much like you do.' He looked up at her.

"Yeah," she agreed. "Is it to yer likin', Beach Head, Sir?" She smirked at him, going back into annoying the hell out of him if for no other reason than she enjoyed it and she could. "I'd hate ta upset ya, Sir. Ya bein' oh so important an' all." She knew it would not take much to get a good rise out of him.

"Yes, now get out of my office before I have you for insubordination." He met her eyes, knowing her game. Two could play, and he would win.

"Insubordination? Why you arrogant ass! I'm bein' as insubordinate as that cologne yer wearin'!" She stepped on the salted wound of his odor problem like so many had before her. "That essence of skunk?" She asked, smirking smugly.

"That's enough." He stood face red. "Out before I have you court marshaled." Not that he could really do so for her comments, but it felt good to say, to threat.

"Try it, bub." She eyed him coolly. He did not have a leg to stand on.

"Fine. Drop and give me a hundred. And that's an order, Sergeant." Though her rank was equal to his, he was still her senior officer as well as a commander of G.I. Joe, something he would rub in if he had to.

She glared at him. "One hand or two? Girly style or no?" Girly style had no basis nor use in the military, but she felt the need to ask, to rib him, annoy him.

His answer was what she anticipated. "One handed and no whimpy girly shit."

Smirking, she dropped to the floor, doing as he ordered. She could not help but give out yet another jibe once she had completed the set. "Want me ta shine yer boots while I'm down here?"

"No, I want you to get the hell out of my office," he growled as he glared at her. He felt the need to grit his teeth and bound the hell out of something. Why did the woman have to be such a pain in the ass?

She stood. "I'll be back with today's report, Sir, Beach Head, Sir. I know ya'll want it, Sir, Beach Head, Sir." Her tone was mocking. She was going to make the man hate the term sir.

"Out!" He pointed to the door. He was, indeed, getting very sick of being called sir. "And have your assistant bring it. At least she knows when to shut up." Which surprised him, her being a woman.

Jezebel saluted him with her middle finger before turning and leaving. He watched her go, fuming. She was the most bullheaded, stubborn, insubordinate, teeth clinching pain in the ass he had ever met. At the moment, he would have rather had two Shipwrecks. Little did he know that two said people were out there, in the halls, talking and sharing notes and pointers. A shiver ran down his spine for no apparent reason. Little did he know...

Jezebel, after much discussion with Shipwreck, finally made it back to her office. She had learned many humorous facts about what had happened to Beach Head at the hands of those on base, especially Shipwreck himself. Her mood had been lightened and her devious nature fueled. She was not going to let up on pestering the hell out of the staff sergeant any time soon. "Get it done?" She asked Reaper of the report.

"Yes, Ma'am." She held the report out for her superior.

"Take it ta Beach Head. He doesn't want ta see me." She smirked. She was going to bide her time, for now.

"Yes, Ma'am." She stood and walked around the desk, heading out the door and down the hall. She did not wish to see the man again ever let alone so soon but she would do as ordered. Knocking cliply on his door, she waited for him to permit her entrance.

"Enter." He was again at his desk going over reports, hoping beyond hope that whoever entered was not Jezebel or any of his other annoyances. He did not look up as whomever entered and placed something on his desk. Looking at what was placed down, he knew who it was. Still without looking up, he handed her a folder. "Give this to yer mouthy sergeant."

"Yes, Sir." She turned and left, having been completely dismissed from his attention. She made her way back to Jezebel's office and handed over the folder. "He said to give you this."

Jezebel took the folder curiously and opened it, reading silently. Her jaw clenched tighter and tighter over time. "Why that arrogant... Psychoanalysis! I should shove this up his ass!" She growled loudly. Reaper stood before her silently, watching as she threw the folder down on the desk. "Only one crazy is that self-righteous pig!" Reaper raised an eyebrow. She had the feeling that things were starting to spiral out of hand for both Beach Head and Jezebel. "Stay here an' man the office." Jezebel glared at the folder, fuming, before looking up at Reaper. "I need ta see Psyche Out about this."

"Yes, Ma'am," she answered simply as she watched the other woman stand and storm from the office. She once more could only fathom what was going on inside the mind of Jezebel. She was not certain who she pitied more, if she pitied either Beach Head or Jezebel. The two did seem to deserve one another.