She remembered vaguely that the boss had a kid. They'd met once, maybe twice like a year ago or something. Back when the big guy had been married. She'd dubbed him "Prince" because his dad was the "King" (a nickname that had actual merit). He wasn't much like he'd been then though. He'd dyed his hair blue, and pieced his nose, which was cute, but really kind of nineties, and out of date.

Like the leather jacket he'd done up with studs, and band patches. She pondered over what the fuck the Vaccines were as she stared at him over her mound of paper work, popping her gum. He seemed to have a habit of twitching whenever she licked her lips which was new. But he had to be like twelve now, or something so changes were expected right?

"So you're coming back to live with your dad, or something?" she asked. He shot her a sneer, and looked stubbornly back at the door. "Hey, don't ignore me, I pretty much run this shit," she said.

"Yeah. You're a genuine workaholic." Sarcasm. Cute. The irony of that thought was not lost on her. "Do most of it on you desk," he paused a moment, leaning around her stack of papers to conspicuously look up, and down her legs. "On your back?"

She took the time to be shocked as the office door opened so his father could call him in.

"Dude, you're like twelve," she said as his combat boots slammed into the carpet.

"Fifteen," He shot over his shoulder through the closing crack between door, and frame.

Close enough.