Shaken from that vocal burst we all turned and gawked at its intended target.
Josephus had his feet balanced on the bureau in front of him. He stared back at the Major with a smirk. The left side of his sneer was curled and the upper left of his face had a seamless wave of wrinkles to them.
He stood up, stretched his shirt down and readjusted his bomber jacket over his shoulders and raised his cap so you could clearly see his eyes.
“Well Major, I feel we have some form of communication issue. It seems, and please, I don’t mean to be audacious, that you, maybe have, overlooked my present standing?”
“Ha, you’ve embarrassed yourself and your legacy to become GD garbage Merc? Oh no, I will never forget that. I can’t.” the Major replied, while looking down and shuffling his files on his desk and shaking his head.
Josephus sarcastically clutched his chest. “Stinging words sir. I’m a business owner, Entrée-PREN- URR” Josephus stretched that last word, alongside a terrible French accent.
He walked up to the Major and stuck a digit in his face.
“Every time there is an issue that you can’t deal with, I get the call. It is my head on the line when we venture into the big beautiful black for you. You want me to be accountable for my men and yours.”
“Major, you keep telling me I’m number one, but you’re using the wrong finger, baby.”