She let out a sigh at his suggestion, and jerked her chin in a not-quite-shake, not-quite-nod, although she had been thinking it too. (She would probably have a better shot at palling up with them before she impressed their fuck-up on them and made any threats – she could just picture leaving their office, haunted by the wake of faint laughter she would probably leave if she went as Tess, Ned Whitby’s flailing daughter.)
Now that she’d checked the ledger, she returned and sank back onto her working-stool to think about it. Never mind that she didn’t have time for this. It would have to be done. “Shame I can’t send you to knock their heads together.” A joke, only: Declan was the best assistant printer she could hope for, but threatening their suppliers with a fistfight felt, sadly, like too tall an order.
Now that she’d checked the ledger, she returned and sank back onto her working-stool to think about it. Never mind that she didn’t have time for this. It would have to be done. “Shame I can’t send you to knock their heads together.” A joke, only: Declan was the best assistant printer she could hope for, but threatening their suppliers with a fistfight felt, sadly, like too tall an order.
