hi all - i want to thank you for sticking with me, i realize how slowly i update compared to others. i wish i can say my work is worth the wait.. and i also wish i had the stamina and patience to update every week. writing has unfortunately taken a backseat in my life.

this chapter was ill-devised and half-baked when i decided to include it, so your thoughts would be greatly appreciated 3 xoxo scorpiaux

The disadvantage for Katara Kuruk – now wearing sunglasses in her office to hide bags, and downing espresso after espresso – was that she loved her work so much that she could not take recreational days. At 5:53 a.m. this morning she had permitted Aang Yangchen one last, satisfying romp – in which, in the absence of condoms – he had removed himself and finished in an old pile of reports nearby. He had done the same last night on a series of old reports, some she had gleaned from Gyatso (she shivered), others she had taken over for Suki (she winced). Aang Yangchen relieved himself on these reports repeatedly. She was in awe at his precision timing. A moment after she had crumpled with pleasure and cried in that whispery, grateful way, he would remove himself and ruin another projections report with the combined effort of his swift fist and ready erection. It was not the most responsible course of action, she knew, but in a pinch, old reports do serve some purpose.

To ease her tension at the mishap (she was now calling it the mishap), she acted as though it never occurred. This was necessary for immediate recovery. She could not miss a day just because she had undressed for what would soon become her boss, and in the moments after Aang left her office – approximately 6:17 a.m., more than 12 hours after his initial arrival – she knew that she wouldn't go home just to collect herself. It was lazy. Unethical (she had to pause here and smile at her own hypocrisy). She sighed, "One second you're on the floor with your teeth in your boss's shoulder, the next you're deciding a day off is unethical." A word she didn't like to use, but in this instant, it was the only way she could describe herself. Unethical. Lacking ethics or class, attacking Aang Yangchen with the haughty yearning of a teenager.

Instead, she freshened up in the company lavatory, splashed cold tap water on her face and retrieved her extra make-up bag from her top desk drawer. She wore only her undershirt and blazer – the blouse was wrinkled beyond hope of repair without an iron, and she figured so long as she stayed at her desk, no one would notice the deep wrinkles on her pant legs. She took canisters of disinfectant wipes and scrubbed down her office again and again, in small, concentrated circles, tempted to use the disinfectant on herself. She threw all the ruined reports in the wastebasket, mildly horrified at how many there were. She blinked in a new set of contact lenses, an emergency pair for late working nights. She did her best not to send her gaze out of the office, afraid to catch sight of him or Gyatso or Suki, or any of the numerous figures she'd helped Gyatso employ.

Now she worked, writing in prospective authors to contact and cross-referencing their pieces. She tried not to focus on the soreness, the dehydration aggravated by caffeine, or her impending exhaustion, though at times she felt she needed a nap or a good slap to the face. A marathon that fantastic would have justified hours of sleep and a well-deserved brunch for both parties. Instead they celebrated with a sixth round of sex this morning and hysterical, hasty expulsion from her uncomfortable office. A "sort of" plan of action not to discuss it further until the weekend gave way. And a few longing looks that both tried to guise as ensuring the other looked presentable.

"Should I take the day off?" Aang had inquired again at the door. "What do you think?"

"I don't care what you do, Mr. Yangchen," she reiterated. "But I am staying. And as far as I'm concerned, I don't know you."

"Right, right," he agreed. "I was never inside this office. Or inside you."

She threw a pen at him.

Now, Katara was so focused on completing her work, so dead set on finishing everything she had to do and remembering nothing of what she had done, that she did not notice Meng standing at the glass doors.

The girl let herself in and sat across from Katara, putting one leg over the other. Meng was a sizable girl and the maneuver gave Katara a sore glance at the fleshy thighs beneath Meng's skirt, a strained fabric clearly intended for the hips of a smaller woman.

"You didn't knock," Katara reacted.

"Yeah. I did."

Meng had only visited her office twice. Once when Gyatso employed her so that Katara could finish her employment paperwork (similar to what she had done for Aang), and another time when Katara had threatened to fire her and Gyatso forced them to have a tête-à-tête to come to some sort of compromise. Katara promised not to push Meng to do more than three tasks a day, and Meng promised to no longer walk in to work two hours late. The compromise lasted less than a week. Then they were each back to their previous compositions.

They did not function well together. What Katara thought to be intentional incompetence and laziness, Gyatso considered restless, daydreaming youth and honest mistakes. Meng never finished projects Katara assigned, or she did them incorrectly and feigned interest in fixing them. Often she would glare at the Water Tribe native from her own secretary's desk outside of Gyatso's office, her eyes not leaving Katara's face until Katara was forced to mouth, "What?" or lift her hand in inquiry. "I'm on to her," Katara would tell Suki. "She thinks she's on to me," Meng puffed in disgust to whoever would listen.

This morning, though, Katara did not have the energy to go up in arms. Her battlements faltered and she willingly took the high road. In as friendly a tone as she could contrive, she smiled and answered, "I must not have heard it. What can I do for you, Meng?"

"Gyatso sent me," Meng snorted. "You'd think I'd willingly come by?" She gave Katara an all-star sarcastic smile. Her teeth were generously spaced, gaps wide enough for paperclips to edge through.

That was cheeky, her superior thought. Mean and disobedient. Meng's insolence was always unwelcome, and if Katara weren't out of sorts, she'd have lashed out right back. Stupid twerp can't be polite even when she's getting paid to be, she thought. But she said, shrugging sweetly, "I'm sorry he made you trek the few meters over here. It's quite a walk, especially for–"

"Why are you wearing sunglasses?" Meng intruded suddenly. "Are you hung-over? Eyes red from smoking fire leaf? If you know where I can get some…"

"Okay, that's quite enough." Katara stood and removed her sunglasses. "You would do well to hold your tongue, Ms. Wu. None of the above." That had struck a nerve. Meng was talking to her like a fellow 19-year-old, but Katara didn't like the familiarity, and her questions came with a lilt that suggested Meng already knew the answer. "You'll tell me why Gyatso sent you so that you can be on your way. No more of this tone. Understand?"

Meng put her hands up in defense, the fleshy meat of her shoulders and arms reminding Katara of older women. She did not apologize.

"What can I do for him?" Katara walked over to the bookshelf at the back of the office, anticipating sending over a file that the airbender had mentioned earlier in the week. Some of the contemporary Water Tribe poets were meeting for a conference in the North Pole this winter on the solstice, and the press was interested in publishing their collaborative pieces. "Does he want the collab work up? I can give you what I have, but Ms. Kyoshi has most of it."

"That's it exactly," Meng stated from behind her.

"Fine, fine." Katara reached for the top shelf and pulled out the file. She handed it to Meng from across her desk.

The girl got up and made her way out before stopping at the door. She froze and turned around. "Oh, wait. He wanted one more thing."

"What's that?" Irritated, Katara peeked up from her paperwork. Meng marched to her again and threw the file on the desktop in front of her supervisor. Stunned, Katara stood immediately, ready to return all of Meng's assaults this morning.

"He wants to know why you were screwing his successor in here last night," Meng jeered. "You think you have an answer to that, Dr. Kuruk?"

It was rehearsed. Something Meng had stated in the bathroom mirror at home, glad to finally have some dirty, ruinous secret on her boss. Her gapped smile made Katara's sensitive, empty stomach flip. All that she could think to do was veil herself in denial.

"Excuse me?"

"I know what happened," Meng returned, not moving from her spot. They didn't shift an inch, each staring right through the other.

"Wow - you are crossing the line here."

"Not as big a line as you crossed last night. And you know it."

"Is this what goes on in that twisted teenaged imagination of yours? People 'screwing' in this office? Please! You need to do us all a favor and grow up."

"Hmm." Meng rested her palms on Katara's desk and leaned closer. Katara caught a whiff of smoke and morning breath. "You're pretty good at doing favors. Maybe you can teach me." She gave Katara a clueless, cruel look. "Are you trying to weasel your way into a promotion? Or are you just as big of a whore as you look?"

In the silence that ensued, Katara turned her face to the window. She hissed clearly, emphasizing each syllable, "You need to get out." She felt her temples throb. "Now."

"That's not a very polite way of asking."

"Oh, you damn well will, or I swear on your ancestors' graves that I'll make you."

"I'm going to tell him, Katara," Meng said, shifting back to her feet. She had never looked more sinister, her lips pulled to the right side of her face in a contorted pout, her eyes dark with a wisdom that was as embarrassing as it was catastrophic.

"Tell who what? You'll be reporting on an imagined event." Her face felt hot. The emptiness of her stomach suddenly bothered her more than Meng's startling accusations – albeit correct and potentially dangerous, she felt nauseated at the news most of all. The coffee, espresso, and ice water she drank earlier sloshed around her gut as she stood. "Are you trying your hand at extortion? A modern witch-hunt? You're failing. Miserably. You can't blackmail me for something I didn't do."

"I saw it," Meng answered with clarity. "The whole thing, unfortunately. Well, the parts that matter. I was in here doing work you assigned, forcing me to stay late on a Thursday because you had to just get everything in by the end of the week." Meng unwrapped a stick of gum and pressed it into her mouth, aware of how much it bothered Katara. Letting the wrapper fall to the floor, she popped the gum as she spoke. "You did a terrible job of being discreet."

"You didn't see anything," Katara spat, attempting to keep her voice down. "You're delusional. A drugged up teenager from the state university who just happens to be one of Gyatso's 'damaged youth' projects, a fixer-upper with a bad attitude and no marketable skills."

"Harsh," feigned Meng, closed-lipped. But Katara saw her chin tremble with the effort of not returning fire. She didn't want to take this route, but with Meng's disrespectful name-calling and threats, she felt she had little choice.

"You're addicted to fire leaf and fried dumplings and spiked cola. I know your type. Insecure and malicious, conspiring against anyone who tries to better you because you don't want to believe that you need fixing." Katara shook her head, smiling, and sighed loudly, finally bending to take her seat, relief washing over her. "Guess what? I'm not afraid of you, little girl. I'm a decade older than you are. Absolutely nothing happened in here. It's your word against mine. I win."

When Meng did not respond, Katara turned her attention to the work on her desk. She remembered Aang Yangchen's kind regard for Meng, how he tried to defend her when he'd frist come to her office. "Show yourself out," she ordered flatly. "If Gyatso doesn't need the collab work up, I'll continue putting it together today."

"I – I know what I saw," Meng said at last, her voice flickering.

"Another thing," Katara called after her. "Come back at 4:00 and pick up your dismissal request. You're fired."