Grace
“Clara.”
Her hand tightened on the doorknob to Ezri’s office. She thought, for a moment, of turning it and opening the door and leaving. Even indulging in slamming it behind her. She forced herself to let go of it as if she had to pry her own fingers open. Hid the fist that replaced the grip behind her back with her other hand as she turned. The, “Yes, ma’am?” came out almost innocent.
“Try that again.”
Of course. She had known the order was coming the moment the first exit curtsy—sleepily sloppy—was done. Tried to pretend that if she fled in time, she could avoid the try that again. One more time. You can do better. And maybe avoid giving Ezri the murderous look and be spared the lecture.
She managed to avoid Ezri’s gaze altogether and tried it again.
“Good girl. You may go.”
She left without further incident, closing the door a little loudly but not so much Ezri pursued her. Being Ezri’s favorite trainee had its downsides, as much as she had longed for it. The nitpicking, for one. This was surely someone’s kink, but it wasn’t hers. She liked it on occasion, and she could even manage day to day, but she had no enjoyment of it when it was this constant and Ezri knew it.
The only thing was, it was Ezri’s form of love, and for that, she was grateful. She did notice the little things Ezri let slip with the others and was equally uncomfortable with the thought of going back to that position, easier though it might be; it would feel like being given up on.
Ezri thought she could do this. Clara didn’t want to prove her wrong, whether she liked it or not.