Honour
"Hey, babe?"
"Hmm?"
"Forgot to tell you; I need to leave in a couple days. I don't know how long this'll take, so you're in charge until I get back, okay?"
She stares, rather stunned.
"I've only been here a month, Buddy."
"And?" he prompts absently.
"And, an honour like that should probably go to someone with seniority."
"Maybe," he shrugs. "But those are the benefits of sleeping with the boss."
"Buddy!"
"C'mon, sweetheart, you know I trust you more than the rest of these yutzes. If anyone gives you a hard time about it, just...like, show some skin. I guarantee, if you prance around in a mini-skirt for a couple hours, they'll try to move a goddamn mountain for you."
She laughs.
"Well, thank-you. Your faith in me is touching."
"Faith, nothing," he snorts. "You're smart and you're hot. That's the best kind of person to leave in charge of a group of idiots like these. They'll be too busy turning all Boy Scout to try to impress you that they won't have time to cause trouble."
This is a reasonable explanation, of course, and it won't occur to her until later that there might be another.
When she's going about her additional duties, glowing with pride that she's been trustworthy enough to earn them so quickly, she wonders if that was his intent: to control with the illusion of giving control.
Which hardly seems fair; aren't illusions supposed to be her department?
End Notes: I am Canadian, so 'honour' contains a superfluous 'u' when I am spelling it. That is all. :P