"Come in, Trenton. We're undergoing a little restructuring, and, well, I'm sure you're aware of your numbers this quarter." One diamond claw scratched at Skrizziktvek's chin. "I don't believe in drawing out the torment, so I'll be blunt. You're fired." He paused. "What are you doing?"
Trenton eased one eye open again. "You're not going to incinerate me?"
The room rattled with a dragon's laughter. "Is that old chestnut still going around? No, no, Trenton. I'm not going to set you on fire." He blinked, and looked down his long nose. "You are still fired, though. Clean out your desk."
Revenge Is a Dish Best Not Served in Oldboy
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