Your reasoning is sound, but judgement is on the side of specious.
I'd close an eye for now. But a third stab will earn you some detention, mmm?

Not 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦?

Even if you deliberately missed their organs it still counts as stabbing, you know.

The two Turks stared at one another for a long moment, before Tseng’s lips parted into a warm smile.

Pushing himself slightly away from the table, the director remained seated as he inclined his head towards his lap. An invitation, an instruction; both.

The jiggle of the doorknob sliced through the silence, causing the director to sit up oh-so-slightly in his chair.

Tseng’s expression remained impassive as Knife slipped into his office, the fountain pen continuing its lazy steady spinning as she shut the door close behind her. /c

…….You didn’t stab either of them, did you?

𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑜 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑚𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑚 𝑡𝑜 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒 𝑎 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒. 𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑦 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑑𝑖𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒. 𝐼’𝑣𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑚𝑦𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓. 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑑𝑜𝑛’𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑜𝑙 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒’𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦.

……Knife.

on his seat, nudge everything back into their intended place on his impeccably arranged desk, and started to twirl a fountain pen as he waited.

him wait for the dossier tomorrow. And he should not have made the ask in the first place.

Did that make them both equally culpable?

Tseng glanced at his watch, and shut both his book and his train of thought.

There was just enough time for the director to freshen up and arrange himself /c

right, but not necessarily on Vivian. Quite the contrary; it was a matter of self-discipline and/or denial.

After all, what happened the other night, and the 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 other night, was… not ideal, to say the least.

And yet, here they were once again.

She should not have agreed, should have made /c

Four hours should have been an easy wait, relative to the multi-day surveillance assignments or being on endless standby for the c-suite.

Especially so when one took into consideration that the director was responsible for Vivian’s most recent out of town assignment. It was a punishment, all /c

and picked up a much neglected novel instead.

Less than four hours now, before @knifeoftheturks.bsky.social returned.

personal.

Using the PHS tucked away in one of his desk drawers, the director sent a text to the owner of a dive bar of which he was an occasional regular. Tseng then closed the files he was working on —no point in expanding energy on them now, especially when it carried the risk of oversight— /c

was already wandering off, as it was usually wont to do when a certain individual was involved.

Tseng stretched his neck the other way and held that position long after a second 𝑝𝑜𝑝 was heard, letting his mind maunder through the criss-crossing paths between what was professional and what was /c

The leather chair sighed along with the director as he leaned back, eyes closed, head tilted sideways till a 𝑐𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑘 was heard.

It was almost three in the afternoon, and the expected —cough— debrief —cough— was hours away. He really ought to finish up those budget projections, but Tseng’s mind /c

📲 Noted, thank you.
📲 Take the next two days off to rest.

—𝑠𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟—

📲 I’ll be waiting in my office for your debrief.

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄
to: @knifeoftheturks.bsky.social

📲 Check in, Knife.
📲 Safe? Steady?
📲 All good? All well?