#plot stuff maybe

He hadn't been expecting the door to his office to creeeaaak open slowly, and he hadn't expected his little cousin to march into the room, muscles tense and face twisted into a snarl. Something was wrong; Tabitha had never looked at him with that expression, before. "Tabitha," the executive greeted carefully, "is something the matter?"

"You tricked me." The words spat out were full of not only anger but hate, loathing, and it was startling. Archer placed his pen down, focusing his attentions entirely on his little cousin, as he no longer knew what to expect from this situation. "Ye groudondamn dosser, ye tricked me!"

"I'm sorry, you'll have to explain a little more than that, I'm afraid," Archer sighed, and he motioned calmly to one of the chairs in front of his desk; Tabitha growled angrily and abruptly upturned it, the chair hitting the floor with a resounding crash, causing the elder to flinch the tiniest bit.

"Téigh trasna ort féin!" With an angry bellow, Tabitha kicked the chair out of his way and stomped forward, slamming his hands flat onto Archer's desk. "I told ye! I told ye, ye fuckin' scumbag! I told ye I was only gonna be here long enough te git back on me feet!"

"Yes, you did," Archer agreed, "I fail to see the problem."

"Ye never told me I couldn't leave! Dammit, Kane!" Tabitha whirled around, seething as he began to pace, hands clawing at his hair as he tried to calm himself down. "Ye promised! Ye promised me I'd be able te git home!"

"Is that what this is all about?" Tabitha turned back to snarl something else, but Archer merely shook his head and let out an exasperated sigh, and the words caught in his little cousin's throat, confusion mingling with the brutal anger in his eyes. "Look. I don't know who you've been speaking with, but I can assure you, your case is... different. You know, from the average grunts."

"Oh, oh yeah?" Tabitha gave a high, breaking laugh. "Yeah? Why, 'cause ye gonna make Proton run me through with a knife, er 'cause yer gonna let Petrel fuck me over?! I can't stay here, Kane, I jes' can't, I can't function, I can't work, I. Jes'. Can't."

"I know!" Archer stood from his chair, and though Tabitha took an unstrusting step back, he came around the desk and placed his hands on his little cousin's shoulders, staring him dead in the eye. "I know, Tabitha," he continued, voice soft, "and it's fine. You were never here. You kept asking for promotions and never received any, yes? Not because you were not qualified, but because you have no files here." 

"I—I what? No files, what?" his cousin repeated, and Archer nodded solemnly.

"No files," he said, "just as I promised you, you should be able to leave." And instantly, Tabitha relaxed, shoulders drooping and fists unclenching as a relieved look passed over his face. Awkwardly, he reached to upright the chair he'd thrown over. Archer smiled.

"I... I'm sorry, Kane, I jes' thought—Squishy said—"

"He's not wrong, per say." Archer shrugged. "Just... you are not a Rocket. You never were. Of course, that doesn't mean you are just free to leave. You still owe the organization money, after all; you'll need to remain and work until such time as your debts are paid."

"I can do that," Tabitha agreed. Wearily, he sunk down into the chair. "Ain't no stranger. I can do that. How much do I still owe?" Archer sighed and turned to his computer, his fingers flying across the keyboard for a good moment before he found the figure–and truth be told, he had to do a double-take.

"You still owe us about half a million," he announced. Tabitha's eyes shot up, a mix of pure, unadulterated fear and anxiety swirling within them.