In Graves' hands are all the pieces of evidence that lead him directly to Coyote's desk. An empty tupperware, a threatening sticky note (that had been replaced with the one with his own name on it), and a mission report that had sat too long without being processed.
The combination of all three have him kicking Coyote's chair when he comes close enough.
If it is a plot to get something from Graves, it's a bad one without a signed note. If it's a benevolent act, then it's not Coyote. Graves is not sure if he likes what's left after that.
"What's your deal?"
@cmdr-graves
“my deal with what - oh.” coyote pauses his task, eyes falling on the container and note stuck to an old report in opposite hands.
“wanted you to stop stealing my shit. not my fault i cook better than everyone here.” he sighs, pushing his chair back from the desk and swiveling toward his commander. “evidently it worked, or that box would be full of cucumbers.”
coyote squints, looking at the note, shaking his head when he notes that it reads DO NOT TOUCH. “…or not.”
“first note said it well enough i think. a third takeout box this early in the week is just sad.” his tone takes on on a condescending hue, jaw shifting to the side.