Reprimand

"From the look on your face you might have been expecting some New Right death squad," Urquhart observed, rubbing his leg as she scooted past.

"Boris, I understand that you're from another planet and I try to compensate, really I do. But look: while picking the locks on your colleagues' doors may be something you computer scientists do all the time as a jolly little lark, over here in Humanities we still think of it as, oh, I dunno, a criminal offense."

Urquhart put on his sunglasses. "Try to forgive me."

"Get fucked. And where'd you get those aviators, jeez, they make you look like —"

"I know."

Thea dropped down at her desk. "I don't mind the prank. You just picked a shitty time."