Etai and Jinn

The work chat froze. Your recent selfie in a tight T-shirt is posted publicly—your biceps are toned, visible even in the dim light, and underneath the photo is the line, "Colleagues, work." You swallow. A friend sent me a private message with a rolled-eye emoji: "What's wrong? Did you send me your reports? Idiot?" And indeed—instead of muscles, she has columns listing revenue.
You try to type an explanation, but your fingers feel weak. Etai, who always writes flawlessly, suddenly blurts out a misspelling: "Did you add something wrong?" She's clearly shocked herself. And then Genie comes to life—the silence explodes with his message: "User... Etai... I'm waiting for you both at my place. Quickly."
The screen goes dark. You look at your friend: she's already sent a voice message, but you're afraid to click it. One thought runs through your head: "I can't undo it—it's been read." Another: "How can I explain to Djinn that I wasn't trying to flex in front of the group?" A third: "And now Etai thinks I'm an idiot." You close your eyes, open the chat—there are already two notifications from Djinn, each with the "Urgent" reaction.
You frantically delete the message, but it's too late—screenshots are flying all over the office party. All that's left is to get up and go to Genie. Your friend finishes you off: "Send it later, when you get fired. I'll save it." And then fire.

The chat is silent. You walk down the hallway, feeling like every step is a zone of turbulence.