"What's got you in such a mood today, Agent Steelbeak?" She asked.

Steelbeak smiled despite his circumstances. She had nice hands, a pretty voice and a bubbly personality. Plus, she was extremely pretty. It was obvious why -- after growing up with her father in Research and Development throughout her childhood -- High Command placed Sally Sparrow as head receptionist. Her father had long-since retired but she seemed to truly relish her job; she wasn't a standard receptionist, nor was hers a standard job with remedial tasks. Playing with a few of her favorite agents was one of many perks she received.

"Tough gig," he finally answered Sally's question, pressing a cheek against one of her hands as it worked his shoulder. "Botched job. New partner."

Sally ran her hands down Steelbeak's back gently before turning him around to face her. The squirrel with waist-length fiery red hair stood a good half-foot shorter than Steelbeak but seemed to enjoy gazing up at him. "Smile. It can't be that bad!"

Finishing his cup of coffee, Steelbeak launched into the same description of Gabriel as the one he'd previously delivered to Mitch. Still, Sally smiled up at him, her Jade eyes sparkling impishly. Steelbeak knew something good would come in reply to his complaints, when she had a look like that on her face.

"H.C. doesn't know their heads from their rears when it comes to matching up partners. You're not the first this has happened to and I doubt you'll be the last. Besides -- everyone they get here seems a little bit . . . nutso. Now if it were up to me . . ." She wandered around behind him once more, putting her hands back on his shoulders. This massage was a little less practical and a lot more sensual. "I'd be your partner."

"Now where've I heard dat line before?" Steelbeak asked, though smiling. While she talked a big game, she'd never once made good on any particular threats. Maybe things would change when she turned eighteen. He also knew he wasn't the only one she said those things to. She was a terrible flirt but she could get away with such behavior because she was so good-looking. He would never admit that deep down, it made him jealous. Girls were supposed to be the loyal ones, and loyal to one man. Especially the pretty girls, and especially to him.

"I wouldn't want anyone slapping me with a harassment lawsuit, Agent Steelbeak," she told him in a surprisingly professional demeanor. "Nor would I want to . . . tarnish . . . my record. Or reputation!"

Steelbeak took a breath to reply but remained silent, catching a shadow crossing the doorway.

"Happy morning to you," an older voice joined the conversation as its owner met Sally and Steelbeak in the breakroom. He was an aging scrub-jay, probably in his late fifties to mid-sixties judging by appearances -- time had not been kind to him -- an agent who seemed perpetually trapped within the Human Resources department of F.O.W.L..

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