I am taking my very sweet time with BatDR but please know im still losing my mind overall about batdr in the background. I have a LOT of emotions about it, but haven’t made it all the way though—I am continuing to avoid spoilers! Be back soon ❤️🎢
9 for hurt and comfort prompts with Joetrum please?
“It will be easier, if you just talk to me.”
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The strident clatter of pens against hardwood was Joey’s answer to a departing Grant. One hand supported his head as the other, now done sweeping across the desk in anger, rested in front of him and tensed reflexively. A sigh escaped Joey the moment he felt he could utter sounds without collapsing into desperate sobs.
His mind raced—the bad news he feared would come his way had finally arrived, and this time, with no investors to fall back on, no savings to dip into and what felt now like nowhere to turn. Grant’s words held a finality he’d never heard from the accountant before. And no matter how hard Joey tried to twist those statements, made both verbally and on paper, he couldn’t wrest his way free. His head rested in his hands, shielding his eyes from the telltale trailing zeroes and harshly marked bank statements he’d been given moments before.
Joey let himself have one weak, gasping sob before silencing himself.
With his eyes clearing of hazy tears and the tell-tale redness abating, the clarity of his thoughts returned. With that clarity came the reminder of looming bankruptcy, laid neatly out in print on his desk.
But just maybe… perhaps he had a lifeline. It made plenty of sense—the Special Projects group was a heavy spender, and arguably one that helped Joey on his way to ruin. After all, its director wasn’t known for his frugality.
Perhaps there was a deal to be made with Bertrum. A deal that wouldn’t hurt his pride.
It was a long shot, but the target seemed to make himself very hard to miss, especially for Joey.
—
When a gentle knock at his office door caught Bertrum’s attention, his soft hum to himself ceased and was followed by a deep, “Come in.”
Joey’s grim visage in the soft light of Bertrum’s desk lamp wiped the seated man’s welcoming smile from his face. “…Mr. Drew?” He somehow knew to set his pen down and stand, one hand outstretched towards his boss. It drifted towards his hand first, but rested on his shoulder instead. “Is… everything all right?”
Joey’s heart hammered in his chest as he croaked a curt, “No.” His silence returned as he realized that, while he had words to explain his request for money, he had no words that fit the way he wanted it to come out. “There’s… an issue. Cohen informed me.”
The hand on Joey’s shoulder tensed—whether in anger or an attempt to assuage him, he didn’t know. But when Bertrum followed it with, “Mr. Drew, it’ll be easier if you just talk to me.” in a softer tone than Joey had expected from him, it was soon apparent that it was a comforting gesture.
It became even more so when Bertrum draped his hand down Joey’s arm to give his hand a comforting squeeze.
“Come on, then.” The larger man’s voice shook Joey from his haze of thought. “I have a feeling this may need to be discussed away from prying ears.”
With a light tug on Joey’s hand and a turn towards the door, Bertrum took the discussion outside.
