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Summary
There’s a bead of sweat on Khun Sam’s forehead as she levels Mon with a heated glare. She looks livid; she looks angry; but most of all she looks desperate, submissive. She’s sitting behind her desk with her mouth agape, struggling to speak as she grips the edge of her desk. Mon smiles. She smiles brightly. Like she isn’t about to come undone too.
“You called?” Mon asks. She holds the stack of papers she picked up from her desk on the way over closer to her chest.
Sam looks like she wants to pick up her stapler and throw it at something but she resists. Payback. It takes her a minute to gather her thoughts. “Turn it down.”
“You first.”
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