April 3rd, 8:22 PM, Kagome's Apartment

"Can you be a little more specific?" Kagome asked into her phone, as she tipped the last of a jar of tomato sauce over the pot of pasta she was heating through on the stove.

On the other end of the line, Kouga sighed. "It's a sales position with my friend's printing company. I'm not sure what else I can tell you."

"Yes, I got that part already," she snapped. "Sales," she emphasized, gesturing with her wooden spoon, even though he couldn't see, "is a hugely broad area. Is this like a head of Marketing and Sales position? Is it a sales representative whose job is to go out and sign up new business? Middle management?"

"Well he said that the position involves advertising…" Kouga supplied tentatively.

"Yes, but what kind of advertising?" Kagome rolled her eyes as she spooned some spaghetti into a bowl.

"Like…I dunno, putting out fliers around town and stuff?"

"That's what interns are for," Kagome grumbled, "not marketing professionals. Just how big is this guy's business anyway?"

"Well…" Kouga hesitated. "They just started up, so it's really only him and one other guy…"

Kagome plunked her bowl of pasta down on the wooden kitchen table harder than was really necessary and went to grab a fork out of the silverware drawer next to the sink.

"Kouga. I don't work with start-ups. I told you that already."

"Well, this is the best thing I've found! You said you wanted something in marketing or sales."

"Yes, but I also don't want to take work below my level," Kagome retorted. "For Christ sake, I'm the Assistant Director of our biotechnology marketing division. You think I'd leave a position like that for plastering fliers on light posts in Moscow for a tiny company whose name I don't even know?"

"Well I could have just found you a position at the local daycare, which would be more appropriate work for you anyway, but I didn't. So you should be grateful!"

Kagome's mouth fell open in silence for a moment, a bite of spaghetti hanging on her fork, forgotten halfway to her mouth.

"What exactly do you mean by, 'more appropriate work,' Kouga?" she asked icily.

"Er—" Kouga seemed to realize his mistake, but wasn't entirely sure how to back out of it.

"Why would working at a daycare be appropriate for me, exactly? I certainly don't have a degree in early childhood education. Enlighten me," she finished sarcastically.

"Well… it just… it would have been a fairly easy job to get, and, er… it pays alright. Plus, well, you know, you're a woman, so that sort of thing just comes naturally to you… right?"

"Why, because all women have, 'maternal instinct,' or something?" Kagome queried evenly.

"Yeah, exactly!" Kouga sounded relieved, completely missing the quiet danger in Kagome's voice.

"No."

"What?" Now he sounded baffled.

"No, we don't all have 'maternal instinct,' and no, we wouldn't all enjoy working at a daycare." Kagome was livid. "You should have figured this out by now, but apparently you're denser than a lead brick. So I'll lay it out for you: Women are not all the goddamn same. Not all of us want sparkly shit, not all of us want flowers, not all of us care about looking perfect all the fucking time, and not all of us dream about babies twenty-four-seven."

"What the hell?" Kouga sputtered. "I never said you were the same, I just—"

"Oh sure, you only made the massive and stereotypical assumption that because I'm a woman, I'd want to work in a daycare. And not only that, you implied that even though I've told you explicitly that I want to continue to work in marketing, you think I should work in a daycare, if I even work at all."

"That's not what I meant—"

"You know it damn well is what you meant," Kagome spat. "And unless you can figure out how to take your sexist bullshit and shove it up the 19th century's syphilitic asshole, we'll be over in short order!" She mashed the 'end call' button, wishing severely that she could have the satisfaction of slamming down a landline phone. Kagome took a deep breath and glared at her now cold, uneaten pasta. She definitely wasn't hungry anymore.

Pushing back her chair with a scuff of wood on linoleum, she stood up and grabbed some plastic wrap out of a drawer to cover the bowl of spaghetti. After some trouble with the clinginess of the plastic, she shoved her leftover dinner in the fridge, grabbed her keys and jacket, and stomped out her front door. Sango was working tonight at the Monk's Vice, and Kagome thought that a thoroughly sloshed venting session with her friend was in order. Beer sort of counted as dinner…