"Pudding!" Marina cried, coming around the plateau of their massive, shared desk. Eyes on the collateral, she added, "We do good work, don't we?" and gave Danny a peck on the cheek.
"We do," Danny smiled. Marina was wearing a fitted purple sweater over a tight, pocked-leather skirt and striped stockings. Her hair was pulled back in tight braids that reminded him of antelope horns. She was ready to fight. "I want you to know, the bosswoman has requested a raft of changes, but I've already decried half of them."
Danny stopped arranging his desk in order to formally raise an eyebrow. "Decried, have you?" He laughed. "Well, I do declayah." When she passed him the marked up mock-up, his humor failed. "Seriously?" Whatever mood he'd tried to carry in with him deflated. After the weekend he'd had, he couldn't deal with Sasha's crazy demands right now. "I'm getting another coffee. Roddy and I had a fight."
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