(no subject)

[iniquiticity]

Alex glared at his monitor. He couldn’t make the numbers line up. He knew what Washington wanted the presentation to say, and knew that not only capable, but it was in fact his job, to make the facts fit the narrative which they were designed to fit. The churn looked bad, especially at the middle levels. Middle managers should be fat and happy and unbothered. To think that they could seek greener pastures suggested the pastures here could be greener. It was all just pointless fucking bureaucracy, anyway.

It did not make it any better he was currently sitting on the 60th floor balcony of Washington’s hideout, which was owned by 180E Trust. It was his favorite hideout, mostly because of the view, but also because of the soaking tub.

He could practically feel Washington frowning at him, even though the man was far below him and still in the office. The press of the broad hand, on his shoulder.

He repressed the shiver.