Page 5 of Gunnar
Abby laughs, the sound genuine yet slightly condescending. “That’s adorable.”
“We are,” he insists.
“You currently look like you’re preparing to invade a small country.” She gestures at our appearance with her tablet. “You look like a mercenary recruitment poster. You need to be in suits and ties, not cargo and Kevlar.”
Damon sighs. “I fucking hate ties.” Same, Damon. Same.
Abby nods sympathetically, though her eyes are bright with amusement. “I know.”
“They’re pointless.”
“I know.”
“They’re uncomfortable.”
“I know.” She sighs heavily. “You still have to wear one.”
His shoulders slump, the gesture of a man accepting his fate. Accepting all our fates. Jagger shakes his head, horrified, as if she’d suggested we attend naked. “No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes,” Abby volleys back and forth with him.
“No.”
“Jagger.”
He points accusingly at her, his finger trembling with theatrical emotion. “You’re enjoying this. This is your Christmas morning, watching us suffer.”
“I really am,” she admits with a Cheshire-cat grin, not bothering to deny it.
“I thought this company respected me. I thought we had a relationship built on mutual trust.”
Abby laughs boldly. “Nobody has ever said that about you, Jag.”
“We should leave now,” I insist, my voice cutting through the banter, “or we’re never going to have time to shower first.”
Abby smiles in approval. “See? Gunnar understands.”
“Of course he does.” Jagger rolls his eyes. “He’s forty-six. He probably gets excited about ironing. He probably has a favorite tie.”
“I don’t own an iron.” Much less a favorite tie.
“You absolutely own an iron.”
“I don’t.”
Damon looks between us, shaking his head slowly. “You both realize this is a weird fucking argument, right?”
Abby shakes her head, and for a moment, she simply watches the three of us with weary patience. “Sometimes it baffles me that you handle international crises for a living.”
“Thank you,” Jagger preens slightly.
“Because whenever I spend five minutes around you all together,” she continues, her voice dry as sand, “I wonder who is tying your boots in the morning.”
“That’s hurtful,” Jagger feigns. “Workplace harassment.”
