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“I insist.”
Finch continued after glancing up at his employee’s cold blue stare, “That look maybe very effective with the bad elements that we encounter but I assure you, Mr. Reese, it will have no effect on me.”
Finch paused, his voice softer but even firmer than before, “You will use the vest.”
Reese’s hard look dissolved into annoyance, he should have known better, that look hadn’t worked on Finch in a long time, he said, “it won’t stop a head shot.”
“Mr. Reese, you hardly have to remind me of that fact seeing as I’m the one who treated that graze above your left ear, “Finch said, indicating the slightly bloody bandage Finch had just a few minutes ago secured there. He launched himself out of his chair and toward his partner, holding up the ‘bullet-proof’ vest in question, as if to physically force it onto his operative. “A few millimeters to the right and you would have fulfilled that death-wish you seem to have," Finch did not shout but he came close, face redding with emotion and shock at what he had just voiced.
Reese, his face taking on the blank expression it so often wore just gazed at his employer’s own shock at his unexpected outburst, then slowly nodded, removed his suit jacket and began to unbutton his shirt.