"Management," he breathed, with little whooo sound leaving his mouth as he exhaled. Management. It seemed daunting. (Not as daunting as actual law enforcement, no, but in terms of scariness—Mr. Ross could probably get him arrested if he wanted to. But he supposed that was a weird that to be afraid of.)

"It's the climate. I hate hot, sticky weather," he explained, a dismissive hand waving off the question. "That and some of the people there are... difficult to work with. But I'm sure you know all people difficult people," he said, chuckling awkwardly.

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