Alison looked at the screen in front of her like it was an idol, linking her with the god of inter-company communication.
Forfuckssake another fucking e-mail from that cow in the Paris office, bitch, thinking she can do things better as per fucking usual, well I wish I could just reply and dump the whole thing in her lap and see how she fucking likes it but then I would only be put on the spot for not being supportive or not communicating effectively or some other fucking diversity shit, my head hurts, I'm so tired, I don't know where to start now, hope I'm not getting another fucking migraine, hold on, what was I doing, can I just stop?
Sucked into the screen again, more mails, another company missive, some bright spark in the advanced products division won a lovely award for, well, for being lovely is all she can tell from the purple prose and vague corporate bullshit, she needed to get with Claire and get the backstory...
"The only award I would win would be Most likely to go postal," she thought, then blushed as coincidentally the post guy came through the office to pick up the outgoing mail.
She started writing an e-mail back to Amelie, it would take time and craft, but she would make a beautiful blend of truth, semi-truth and subtle insinuation that would definitely shove the ball right back at her; and then she could concentrate again on the flirtatious chat messaging she'd recently started.
Naughty but nice, maybe naughty but stupid; certainly reckless but either way she felt the corners of her mouth lift as his words arrived, her mind engaged on something pleasant for a change.