That glorious moment when the person talking to you forgets it’s you, and then says something as if they’re talking about you to someone else, then that microsecond in time when they realise what they’ve done, as do you, then get to feast on them panic, trying to figure how to cover it, and to try and deflect the statement. Being the professional that i am, i strung out his agony for at least two full minutes, which is a long time trying to cover the fact you’re a back stabbing, inaccurate gossip. I held a strait face, and covered well, all except my 501 button bursting arousal at his utter and shameful pain.

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