July 21, 2025
“So do you want to talk to me about what happened?” the blonde asks, gaze fixed upon the man sitting on the opposite side of her desk. He’s mid-twenties at most, well-built with a freshly-shaved head of dark hair and an anger behind his eyes she’s seen many times before. Oliver Morales, her latest charge. When he looks directly at her, she can see a familiar vulnerability buried behind the intense stare.
“It doesn’t fxcking matter, does it?” he asks, slouching down some in the chair.
“Of course it does,” she offers gently.
Oliver shrugs. “Blue is gonna shuffle me around and do whatever the fxck they want with me, and punish me however the fxck they see fit, regardless of what I say.”
“I’m not here to punish you,” Rye says with a shake of her head.
“No?” Oliver asks, sitting up a little and giving her a little smirk, “Are we gonna be besties, Blondie?”
“Mariah,” she corrects, “Or Ms. Saffron, if you prefer that.”
“Ms. Saffron,” he says with a smirk, leaning forward slightly in the chair as he watches her. “Are you gonna spank me for being a bad little boy?”
“Why’d you shave your head?” she asks, sitting straighter and crossing her legs. She can see his energy change almost immediately, Oliver fumbling with a frayed bit of material in his jeans, fighting a sudden tension in his shoulders.
“You don’t like the look?” he asks, eyeing her more directly.
“It’s just different from your file,” she says with a shrug, “And from the interview tape from a couple days ago.”
“I was bored,” he says, shrugging.
“Yeah?” she asks, watching him, “Nothing to do with what happened with the, ah… client?”
Oliver releases a sigh. “Fxck that guy,” he says. “I hope he fxcking died.”
“He might have,” she offers, “If you hadn’t contacted someone and gotten him treatment so quickly.”
“Well, that’s my bad, then,” Oliver says, “Next time I’ll wait awhile.”
“So do you want to talk with me about what happened in the room that night?” she asks.
Oliver inhales, holding the breath for several seconds. He’s back to messing with the fray in the jeans.
“He grabbed you by the hair, didn’t he?” she asks. Oliver’s lips twitch. “That’s why you shaved it off? After you–”
“He hit me first,” he interjects quickly, “I know Geary said she didn’t care, but I fxcking held back as long as I could. That dude has definitely done that before. You could see it in his smug fxcking smile and his dead fxcking eyes. He was getting off on the aggression. He just wanted someone to knock around and talk shit to. I’m not gonna be somebody’s fxcking whipping boy.” He shakes his head. “I don’t care how much money they’re paying, or which government official they’re connected to. I should have caved his fxcking skull in.”
Also apparently I forgot to put this in the Horned God category, so it’s been fixed hahaha