When she woke up an indeterminate amount of time later, it was still dark, and she was comfortably warm. She shifted slightly, yawning, and instantly realized that she was still entangled with Sebastian, and she fell still. She was too comfortable to risk waking him, but he'd probably wake up at the change in her breathing. She sighed at that thought. This was... strangely nice.

He felt her move, woke immediately, but carefully, as he assessed the situation. Harrison. Right. Him and Harrison cuddling mostly naked on his couch. Well, he'd wanted to make the boss mad. No doubt of that now.

Lorna couldn't help but smirk slightly as she felt him tense up. "I think it's around 6 in the morning," she murmured, still nuzzled into his neck. They had fallen asleep early the previous night - he'd probably gotten more sleep than he had in months.

He tensed further as she nuzzled him. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Harrison?" he muttered, shoving her away from him slightly and sitting up, pressing a hand to his eyes and taking a slow breath. "Sorry. Just not one for cuddling." He almost sneered the word, hopping off of the couch and heading for his bathroom. He needed a shower.

She rolled her eyes, staying where she was as he got up and then taking over the giant warm spot he'd left behind. She knew better than to be hurt by him - most likely he was just defending himself from risk, considering last night he hadn't seemed to have minded. Still, as he left the room she wondered if it would be better if she just left before he was out of the shower.

He stood under the hot water for a while, considering the situation. There would be no point in lying to Jim about what he'd done. After all, that was why he'd done it, to piss Jim off. But he was worried he might have gone a little too far. He took a breath. He supposed he'd find out, one way or another. He finally stepped out and dried off, heading back out into the apartment to get clothes.

Lorna had taken her coward's opportunity and had slipped out while he was gone, taking all of her clothes except for her ripped shirt, which she'd tossed into the trash can in the corner. When she slipped into her own flat she took a deep breath and went to put on some legitimate clothes before she collapsed onto her own sofa, a hand covering her eyes. If he really needed to talk to her, he knew where she was, but she didn't really feel like having him look at her with anything resembling regret.

He noticed she was gone, and convinced himself that was a good thing. They had a lot of work to do, and he needed to gear himself up to be professional. So did she. He dressed quick- black pants, red shirt - and pulled his shoulder holster on, adding his blazer overtop. There. Dressed for professionalism. Time to go face Jim and figure out what his future assignments were.

Jim, of course, was up, since he rarely slept. He was working as usual, if in a slightly sourer mood. He already knew about his sniper's quest to irritate him - the accountant on the floor had informed him of an alarming level of noise coming from Moran's door. Jim sighed. He hadn't really expected anything to stop, nor did he really care if it did. What bothered him was his suspicion that Sebastian was doing it just to irk him. What also bothered him was the fact that he had no easy ways to punish him; not this week, anyway. He'd planned their new assignments around the idea that they'd be home in a week, and moving them would be challenging and wasteful. He sighed again.

My office, Moran. JM

He was on his way anyway, having re-steeled his resolve. He knocked on the door crisply, walking in just as the permission to enter was given, a little too early to have truly waited for the remark, but just late enough to be within the realm of possibilities. Pushing lines. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

Jim took a deep breath to keep his pleasant smile on his face. Yes, Moran was pushing his luck. But he was better at playing the game. A sweep of his eyes and he knew everything that had transpired between him and Harrison. "If you're going to insist on playing those mundane games with her just to irritate me, don't be too surprised when my prediction becomes true a lot quicker than I thought it would," he pointed out, tucking his hands into the pockets of his freshly laundered suit. "Either use her or don't. Stop trying to say I have anything to do with it."

He smirked. "With all due respect, sir, you're awfully full of yourself if you think I'm thinking about you when fucking a beautiful woman. Harrison knows her limits, I know them even better. She'll surprise you."

Jim raised a single eyebrow, his head tilting to the side with the air of a watchful snake. This was the game he wanted to play? Alright. "Yet you've already breached her limits. She cares about you, as misguided and ridiculous that is. You'd know that, if you weren't so caught up on how I feel about it. You're blind when you become angry, Moran."

"Then if you're so concerned about this situation, don't make me angry," he shot back with a dangerous tone.

He gave a sharp, harsh laugh, his expression becoming more manic. "So every time I make you angry you're just going to go out and prove me right?" he laughed, looking as skeptical as any one person could. "You're occasionally an idiot, Moran. For thinking that I really care if you fuck her after the fact anyway, as well! You're embarrassing yourself. I don't give a shit."

He straightened, nodded, took a slow breath, and cracked his neck slightly. "Then sir, I don't see why we keep discussing it." His cold eyes held Jim's, not a flicker of fear in them. "If it develops into something you perceive as a problem, I have already requested you let me know. Otherwise, this seems like a rather pointless conversation that you, quote, 'don't give a shit' about."

"You're misunderstanding me," Jim said thinly, face becoming blank. "What I do give a shit about is your reasons for it. I don't like you doing things just to piss me off. That bothers me," He snarled carefully, drumming his fingers on the desk.

"Seems, then, if I were doing that sir, I would be doing it rather effectively." His expression remained unchanged.

"Get out," he snapped, pointing to the door. "Get out or I will kill you," he elaborated through his teeth, and he was completely serious.

He nodded, gave a crisp salute, and turned and headed out the door. Well, he'd just signed his own death warrant. Was it worth it? He wasn't sure. Something just... infuriated him about how Jim was acting. He wasn't sure what, but he, the perfect soldier, was done with it.

Jim had very nearly held Moran there and shot him anyway, just to watch him bleed out for a while before he called the ambulance. He didn't want to kill Moran, but he wanted to hurt him. Now was just the time to figure out how.

He walked back to his apartment with the calmness of a man condemned. He scanned his prints, the door unlocking, and walked in to sit on his couch. For once, he didn't go for the alcohol. He needed to be on guard.

Lorna was surprised to hear the elevator once again - Sebastian was back so soon? That didn't bode well. Her intercom pinged, except it wasn't the usual colors. Jim. Oh, shit.

"Harrison, come to my office," Jim said quietly, leaning back In his chair. He needed to assess the issue from both angles before proceeding to doling out punishments.

She swallowed. Okay, this was bad. What the hell had Sebastian said to him? "Yes, sir," she swallowed, immediately heading for the door. A minute later and she was at the door, tapping cautiously at the door, smoothing down her dress shirt nervously.

"Come in," Jim said casually. He was sitting at his desk, hands clasped and resting on his desk, expression unreadable.

She stepped into the room, shutting the door behind her with a hatefully-final-sounding click. "You called, sir?" she cleared her throat, her hands clasped behind her so she wouldn't fidget unnecessarily. God, he scared her.

"I did," he confirmed, nodding and studying her for a long moment. "You and Moran, Harrison. How do you view the situation?"

"I'm... Not sure what you mean, sir," she frowned. She knew he was talking about, but she wasn't sure how to answer. "What do you mean by view?"

He sat back, eyebrows raising somewhat. "You care for him. Do you feel that that is going to affect your ability to work? Don't try to lie, it's terribly boring."

She didn't have to be reminded. She knew not to lie. She took in a deep breath. "I.. Suppose I do. But I don't think it will affect my work, sir," she shook her head, frowning slightly. "I suppose I just... Keep a watchful eye out for him."

"That's not your job," he said, smiling coldly. "That's his job, to look out for you. Your job, Lorna darling, is to make friends, get fucked, schmooze, and do anything else you have to to get my information. If that involves leaving Sebastian to fend for himself, that is by all means what you should do." His smile soured until he was almost snarling at her "Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal," Lorna breathed, dropping her eyes to the ground. "I won't jeopardize any missions, sir, I swear," she added, swallowing hard. She was relieved she hadn't even thought about lying - he was uncanny at sensing that stuff.

He considered her. "No. I don't expect you will. Because if you do, both you and your little boyfriend are going to die at my hand over the course of days." His eyes were smoldering, but a moment later they lifted into calm levity again. "Now, I think that will be all. Unless you have anything else?"

"No," she shook her head quietly, the picture of acquiescence. There was no point on correcting him on their.. situation, that was for sure. "Have a good day, sir," she managed, and immediately turned to slip out of the room, hands shaking. He was legitimately the most terrifying person she'd ever met. God, it was hard to even meet his eyes.

Sebastian was waiting just outside, arms folded as he leaned against the wall. "Good, you're not dead," he said casually, heading for the elevator.

"I might yet have a heart attack," Lorna shook her head, following after a moment in which she was just trying to get her legs moving again. "What did you say to him?"

"I was nothing but polite and respectful, and a tad bit insolent," he said, calling the elevator.

"You're crazy," she stated, leaning against the wall as they waited, her palms pressed flat against the wallpaper. "Warn me next time, maybe? Just so I can worry about my imminent death ahead of time?"

He shrugged. "You're alive, aren't you?" He stepped into the elevator. "If you'd had time to think about it, you would have panicked."

She followed him into the elevator, although she purposely chose the corner furthest from him, not able to bring herself to respond to him without cussing him out. God, she needed a job. She'd probably leave tonight just to see how many people she could pickpocket. It was a good distraction.

He leaned against the wall, watching the doors slide shut. "He'll cool down. He always does."

"Don't bet my life on that, Sebastian," she warned, giving him a sharp glance. He always became a lot less threatening after she'd just seen Jim.

He considered her, noticed the thought in her gaze, and the use of his name, and was on her in a second, his hand gripping her throat as he pinned her to the wall, face inches from hers. "I'll bet anything I like," he hissed quietly. "I own you. You went into this with the promise that it wouldn't affect your work, but hell if you're going to disrespect me." His eyes were deadly. "If that's going to be a problem, I'll snap your neck right now. Quick and easy solution for the both of us. I don't think I'm going to need to do that. Am I wrong?"

She had a knife pressed into his side the instant he had her against the wall, gritting her teeth as she fought to draw in a decent breath. "You put my life on the line for your little power play, and you don't get my respect," she spat, her free hand going to grip his wrist, trying to bring herself a little relief. "You don't own me - he does." She pressed the knife into him harder, enough that it must have hurt. "Keep me out of it and you'll have all the respect you want, Moran. Is that so much to ask?"

He snarled as her knife bit into his side, a hand moving to pin her hand against the wall, the other still tight on her throat. "I'm the one who hires and fires here. Right now I'm in the rough with Jim. I've been there a million times, and I will be a million times again. But if I decide you're worthless, you will be dead before you know what hit you." He released his grip on her neck just slightly. "I didn't pull you in there, Jim did. I told you what I was doing last night, and you agreed. So don't be a fucking coward, and blame me for what you knew was going to happen. If you're really that stupid, then I never should have hired you."

Lorna bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from physically spitting into his face, biting back more harsh words and taking a deep breath instead. "I'm sorry," she muttered, glaring at the opposite wall of the elevator, a muscle jumping in her jaw. She felt rather like she needed to throw up. "I shouldn't have taken out my fear on you. Please let me go."

He twisted her hand until she dropped the knife, before pushing her to the side, bending to pick it up. The elevator doors had opened and closed while they spoke, and now they were just sitting on their floor. He hit the 'open door' button. "I don't like when someone agrees to something, and then ducks out of the consequences," he spat quietly, eyes on her, disgusted. "You're too used to your job, fucking grifter slut." He headed down the hall towards his apartment, on high alert for any retaliation.

That was a step over the line and he should have known it. She caught up to him in two steps, hand curling around the shoulder holster she knew was under his blazer and yanking him to a halt, spinning him around with a dangerous fury in her eyes. "Don't you dare threaten to kill me for being worthless and then pull that card on me!" She hissed, digging her fingernails into her palm hard enough to draw blood. "I didn't 'duck out' of the fucking consequences! I went in there and I did my best to fucking placate him, unlike you, the 'perfect fucking soldier', and you have the nerve to attack me while I'm still coping with being in a dangerous situation completely out of my control? What the fuck is wrong with you?" She demanded, forcing her fists to unclench and wiping off the blood on her pants. She didn't do this. She didn't do confrontations, that was precisely why she was a goddamn grifter. When she spoke again, her voice was shuddering and her cheeks were red. "Don't you ever call me that again."

He studied her, and shook his head slowly, as if something was just occurring to him. "The goddamned prick was right," he muttered, letting out a laugh. "Christ." He shook his head. "We're not equals, Harrison. And there's no Union for grifters. You don't like your work experience? The door is right there. But you won't last ten minutes on the street. You have nowhere to turn, no one to go to. Jim doesn't give a fuck whether you live or die except that it means a little more paperwork if we have to dispose of your body." He laughed. "Last night you fucked me to piss Jim off. This morning I went to Jim and acted the same way I always do. Pushing that line is what got me here in the first place. If you can't take the heat, fine. Don't step into the fire next time. But if you talk to that like me again, yank me around like that again, you had better be prepared to back it up, or you will be at the bottom of the Thames with my bullets in your head. Are we clear?"

She didn't bother putting any stock into any of his words past his first sentence. She knew all of it - acknowledging it any further would only make her angrier. She just stared up at him until he was done, nearly trembling with the effort of keeping herself so still. "What was he right about?" she asked quietly, raising her eyebrows slightly, as if they weren't in the middle of threatening each other's lives.

He grit his teeth. "That you're fragile. Couldn't handle it. You know, I stuck up for you to him. Staked my bets on the fact that you weren't going to crack under the pressure. That's why he's angry, because I defied him about you. And now you're going to prove him right."

She stuffed her hands in her pockets, looking up at him for a long moment, her calm slowly returning. "I'm compromised right now because I was in the same room as Jim, and then in an enclosed space with you where I idiotically provoked you and you responded in turn. Just because I'm angry doesn't mean I'm breaking. I.." she gave a slight shrug, a little sheepish, "Forgot my place. I apologize." Lorna looked down at her feet, scuffing her shoes against the carpet as she bit the inside of her cheek. "I'm sorry, Sebastian."

He considered her for a long moment, letting the silence continue. "Go cool off," he said after a moment. "And it's Moran or sir."

She sighed, turning towards her door and unlocking it with a grimace before she stepped inside and shut it behind her. If she had tried responding to that they would still be fighting, and she really needed to wash the blood off her palms. Maybe apply a little alcohol, since she doubted she had neosporin.

He turned for his own room, unlocking it and stepping inside, walking to his bathroom and pulling his shirt off to get a look at the cut in his side. It wasn't deep, but it was bleeding pretty badly, so he grabbed the first aid kit he kept, cleaned it and covered it. He tossed his bloodstained and torn shirt into the laundry- it was still presentable on the front and worth wearing if he knew he'd be in hand-to-hand combat, and considered his sliced blazer. Probably repairable. He tossed it into the laundry as well, pulling out a new shirt. He was still on call for Jim if necessary. He sat on his bed, laying back and considering the ceiling. He and Harrison were done. That was the end of it. This whole thing was too much trouble.

She did end up having to use liquor to wash out her cuts, yelping at the harsh sting before she wrapped them up and collapsed into her armchair. She had really fucked that up. She would be surprised if he even talked to her for a week. The thought made her feel a little queasy, but it was easier to ignore it than it was to dwell on her mistakes. Of course, it wouldn't have killed him to be a little more human, for once in his life, but there wasn't any point in being angry about it now that it was over. Sighing, she climbed back out of her armchair and got out the bottle of scotch she'd brought with her. Time to get her future self hungover as hell.

After a while he got up, deciding to go inspect how everything was going in the rest of the building. He might as well do a little extra to try and get back in Jim's good books, and dealing with people who actually showed respect would be a nice change. Reshouldering his holster, he pulled on a new blazer and headed for the elevator.

She heard his door again and couldn't stop from flinching. She really couldn't leave things like they were or she'd be awake all night about it. Hurriedly putting down the scotch - and spilling more onto her hand, ow - she opened the door again, standing inside the threshold. "Sir? I- Is there anything I can do for you? I overstepped my bounds, and I shouldn't have, and I'd like to make that up, if I can."

He looked back at her, raising an eyebrow. "Not currently, Harrison, but it's a long day. If I come across something that requires your expertise, I'll be sure to let you know."

She gave him a light nod and then disappeared back into her apartment. No need to waste his time. Or meet his eyes for more than five seconds.

He worked hard that day. Was clear-headed, calm, brutal when he had to be. He worked on finding where the inefficiencies that had started cropping up were originating, and dealt with them quickly and ruthlessly. He was considering his last 'inefficiency', who was currently kneeling on the floor in front of him, bound and trembling, and reached for the nearest intercom, putting in the extension. "Harrison. Get down to the basement, interrogation 3."

"Yes, sir," she replied almost immediately, feeling lucky that he'd called now instead of five minutes earlier, when she'd been in the shower. In the elevator she wondered what it was that needed her assistance - yes, occasionally she was called in for interrogations, since she knew her way around people like nobody's business, but that tended to happen when Moran was out of town, never with him. When she walked into the room after typing in the code at the door, she gave him a curious look. She couldn't see who was on the floor, but they seemed mildly familiar.

He looked over at her. "Good. You're here." He looked back to the figure on the floor. "You see her, Monroe? She's efficient. Down here very quickly, and very respectfully. That's how things are done here. She takes orders well." He crouched in front of Monroe, taking his chin roughly in hand, causing the smaller man to whimper just slightly in fear. He looked over to Harrison. "Monroe here has been a source of trouble."

She nodded to herself. Monroe. Yes, she could see him being an issue. Although it was hilarious being referred to as a role model of quickness and respectfulness. Lorna tilted her head to the side as she looked down at Monroe, frowning slightly. "What do you want done about that, sir?"

He pulled his gun out of his holster, not even looking as he handed it to her. He considered Monroe with a cool expression, before standing. "Take care of it."

"Alright," she nodded, figuring that she was here for the execution, not the pain, today. She cocked the gun as she stepped forward, pressing the gun to her about-to-be-former coworker's forehead. He looked scared. She squeezed the trigger, keeping a straight face as she watched the red mist settle for a moment and then turned back to Moran, holding the gun out for him. "Pretty heavy kickback on this one, sir."

He took the gun, nodding. "It's a personal favorite." He tucked it away again. "Get someone from cleanup to deal with this, will you? I have a few other things I need to do before people start heading home."

She made a confirming sound, looking down at Monroe's corpse with a thoughtful look. "How does Bree sound? She's good at getting blood out of the cracks."

He nodded. "Whoever you want, just get it done." He headed for the door. "Well done."

"Thank you," she murmured, staying where she was for a moment to give him room to get ahead before she followed, heading for the other side of the basement, where cleanup was. That hadn't gone terribly at all.

She'd performed well, no hesitation or questions. It was a fairly simple task, but he needed to start simple. His evaluation of her needed to be thorough.

After she'd sent Bree to clean up Monroe's corpse she took the elevator up to the level the lounge was on, parking herself on a couch and flipping her phone in her less-damaged hand. She had a feeling that wasn't the end of the tasks he'd give her today, and keeping herself in the middle of the building would make going either up or down faster. She really had crossed a line she should never even really made eyes at. She wasn't even sure why he'd made her so angry. Someone else had probably called her that before, but that probably was something she didn't want to bring that up.

But he didn't. He didn't work much longer that day himself, and there wasn't really a whole lot he could test her on at the drop of a hat. He'd have to prepare. So instead he left her stewing in silence, contemplating what had happened.

It took her maybe three hours to realize that he wasn't planning on calling her again for anything else, so she rolled up off the couch and went into the kitchen to make herself something. Luckily for her, somebody regularly stocked it, so it wasn't too hard to find something to eat. When she figured that it was late enough that the likelihood of her running into him on the way back to her apartment was slim to none, she returned to her flat, walking as quietly in the hall as she could. Briefly, she considered making him an apology card.

He was leaning in his apartment doorway, waiting. He watched as she walked up, sipped quietly at his glass of bourbon, watching her without vocal or physical acknowledgment.

She had to keep herself from smirking as she noticed the bourbon in his hand, which was easy, because she was a little leery of seeing him, especially when she'd hoped he wouldn't be there. She nodded slightly as she walked up, flicking her keys out of her pockets and twirling them on her finger as she reached her door.

He watched her quietly for a few more moments as she unlocked her door, before heading into his apartment, closing the door behind him. A little bit of a mild intimidation factor never hurt. He walked over to the couch, sitting down, on edge. He half expected Jim to call at any minute, and the other half expected a bullet to fly over his head just as soon.

I heard the two of you had a little domestic. JM

He looked up as his phone buzzed, reading over the message.

She stepped out of line, I clarified. SM

I watched the footage. It was entertaining. I'm glad I made that happen. JM

Glad I could be your entertainment this evening sir. It's my goal to make you as happy as possible. SM

It's really very funny taking things away from you. What else do you enjoy besides your job? JM

Alcohol, fucking, and good steak. As you're well aware, sir. SM

Of course I am. Intentionally piss me off again and I'll take more than the second one. Intentions are everything, Moran. JM

Sir, if intentions were everything, a hell of a lot of people would have killed you by now. As it happens, I've managed to keep you alive this far. That seems a fairly clear intention to me. SM

Your concern for my wellfare doesn't cancel out purposely making me angry. I thought you would understand that. I suppose not. Anyways, you can stop going around corners so carefully - I'm not going to have you killed. Learn the lesson, here, Moran. I don't care what you're doing with your personal life if you aren't doing it to try and get to me. JM

I didn't do it to try and get to you sir, not at first. Unless you feel that I am incapable of reading my people and doing my job, then you did care, sir, with respect. If I'm incorrect, please let me know. SM

I'm not mad enough to stick to my pride. I'll admit I questioned your judgement. I still do, a little. But I'll leave you to it. I have a business meeting which may lead to a job for you in a few days. I'll keep you updated. JM

Understood, sir. I look forward to the work. Anything else? SM

One thing: did you let Harrison put that knife on you or did you really slip up? JM

He grit his teeth, considering the phone.

She pulled a knife on me, sir. I'm alive. I don't consider that to be a slip up. Not all of us can immediately read if a person is armed by the color of their trousers. SM

Mmhmm. Do your best to keep it from getting infected, if she cut you. That's all. Goodnight, Moran. JM

The well-wishes surprised him, but he took a breath, and returned the text.

Goodnight, sir. SM

Jim tucked away his phone and continued getting ready for his meeting. He knew that his sniper was probably suffering from a little bit of whiplash from his treatment, but that all just part of the fun. They were all just entertainment for him, after all.

Lorna was in her apartment, a quarter of the way through her bottle of scotch. The next week was going to be a game that she didn't want to play, but she was going to have to. Damn them all for making the stakes so high.

Sebastian rubbed at his eyes, before standing and heading for his bedroom. Despite having slept well the night before, he was exhausted. He turned the intercom speaker up, and then collapsed on top of his bed, asleep in moments.

It took Lorna another few hours to drink herself to sleep, falling asleep on her couch with an open bottle of liquor shoved in between the cushions and the arm. She was going to wake up with a major crook in her neck.