Been a while since I've posted a snippet, since I've mainly been working on edits or so deep in a story that to post would either require a lot of context, spoiler or both. Recently, however, I started a story that was intended to be an entry for the fantasy-writers.org January writing challenge (yes ... look at the date ... guess how that went ...) on the concept of being two-faced. I decided to take it from the approach that two faces wasn't enough:
"It's no reflection on the quality of your work," her boss said from the other side of the desk, "it's simply that we feel your personality is not a good fit."
Davenny held her temper for the five heartbeats it took her to review everything she had done as a message runner in the past five months. She had worked herself to the bone, trying to fit around the schedules of the other runners as their phases progressed. She had bent over backwards; she hadn't even succumbed to her desire to knock heads together.
Personality was a euphemism, and she knew exactly what it meant. She lost the battle.
"Don't try to shove that down my throat," she said. It took an effort to keep herself in the office chair; otherwise, she would tower over him as she did most people, regardless of phase. "You're firing me because I don't have a liminal phase."
There should have been a law against it, but the condition was too rare for the government to care - and any business one could name had a finely honed process for handling workers. It was rare for any person to work in the same place throughout cycles, which meant she had to try and please two masters … and while her other phase had a knack for it, it had never been hers.
"You don't adapt," her boss said. "You're not in sync with the other workers. That isn't a problem unique to those with your condition. Do you expect special treatment?"
"I don't," she said, kept from snapping with an effort, "but that's what I got."
He scowled. "Get out."