Sitting at his desk, his back to the magical window, Cormac's mind was not entirely on the mountain of paperwork in front of him.  He leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms over his head, and took a deep breath.  He rolled up his sleeves and was getting back to work when he heard voices coming from the hallway.  He could hear his assistant, Hildi, quite clear, asking someone if they had an appointment to see him.  It was the other person's voice he couldn't quite place that caused him to pause and listen. 

"I don't need an appointment. This won't take long."  Greg was not going to take no for an answer. He glared and repeated himself in hopes of getting his point across. He clenched his fists and reminded himself that thrashing wasn't on his to-do list. The prat hadn't done anything...yet.

Cormac heard the soft voice of Hildi saying something to the man and then she was there, standing in front of his desk. 

"Mr. McLaggen, there's a Mr. Greg Goyle here to see you," she said, rather apologetically.  "I told him you were busy," she continued, "but he would not accept no as an answer."

"That's fine, Hildi.  Send him in," Cormac answered. 

Greg stepped into the office making it perfectly clear that he wasn't about to be brushed aside. He'd even donned a suit for this occasion. It wouldn't hurt to remind McLaggen just who he was talking to. Money could still move the proverbial mountain and he was swimming in galleons. His eyes narrowed as he stared McLaggen down. "I'm here to speak to you about a private matter."

 Greg inclined his head in that age old gesture of man to servant. All the while, he was reining in his temper. He would deliver his message and sit back to wait for this idiot to muck something up. Then he'd thrash McLaggen. The thought cheered him immensely. "That would be fine. This won't take long at all, I assure you."

Cormac took two glasses and his crystal decanter of Hennessy Ellipse out of the cabinet to the side of his desk and proceeded to pour some into each glass.  "Here you go, Greg."  Cormac sat down in his black leather office chair behind his desk.  "Now, tell me what brings you to my office.  You said this visit is of a personal nature?"

Greg set the glass down on the desk. He'd accepted the drink out of courtesy, but he wasn't going to play nice. Not when his Maeve was being eyed by McLaggen. Greg knew how men like McLaggen worked as he'd been one for years. "Stay away from Tracey Davis, far away. I saw you two and Pansy yesterday, McLaggen. Find another woman to toy with."

Cormac looked at Greg and couldn't stop the sly grin from spreading on his face.  And now things are getting interesting... "Well, since you were there yesterday, I'm sure you noticed that I didn't leave with Miss Davis; I left with Pansy.  And frankly, I don't appreciate you coming to my office, insinuating that I have less than noble intentions towards someone I hardly know," he said.  "What really interests me is why exactly this matters to you so much?  What's so special about Tracey Davis that you're here warning me away from her?"

Greg bit back the urge to laugh. If McLaggen thought he could get tangled up with Pansy and make it out alive...and in one piece...well he would learn. He didn't rightly care as long as the wanker didn't touch Maeve in any way, shape, or form. "Just do what I say, McLaggen. Play with Pansy if you must, but keep your hands off Tracey." He got to his feet and walked out, hoping that his warning had been taken seriously.

Standing up and moving towards the window which today was showing a torrential downpour, Cormac could only wonder what the answer to his question was.  Just what was so special about Tracey Davis that would warrant a personal warning?  He couldn't figure it out, but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to find out.

{Summary} Greg storms the MLE. It is awkward and Cormac gets ideas.