I know that I should be more understanding.
But I can't.
Not after what has happened.
That thing, I'm not gonna dignify it with a name. That creature nearly killed me — twice! He insists on calling it Lisa, but she was dead at the Battle of Canary Wharf, he was just keeping a ghost alive.
I'm trying my best to be civil, but boy it's hard. Sometimes when he gives me that look, I just wanna throw him up against the wall and .. No matter, killing him won't change anything and let's be honest this place would fall apart without him, who else is prepared to shovel Weevil shit?
He's like naughty puppy at the moment, keeps bringing me stuff to gain my approval, to get back in my good books. Although today's offering of a pile of reports, for Chrissakes, wasn't quite what I had in mind. It's gonna take me forever to read them all.
I've never seen the place look so clean, although if he tidies my desk once more this week, I'm gonna have to tie him up … No, no get that thought outta your head Jack, this is not the time nor the place, although since when has that stopped you before?
He brings me coffee.
I can't help myself and eye it suspiciously.
He assures me it's not poisoned.
God I hate living this way.