the Grey hat revenge

And it came, November.
The third time he asked a favor.
At midnight, he asked me to come over.
So I came knocking on his door.

Again, he would casually offer
A sparkling vodka in a bottle.
Again, he would save me a seat
Across him, across the fire pit.

As usual, he pleaded, I listened
To his story about no vex intended
when he clearly showed misogyne
to how I differ myself to others.

He was still clueless,
On how we ended up like this.
We're not even friends
In college back then.

He was my instructor who don't think
Calling me names was farcical
Thus I passively disliked his presence
And ignored his existence

It took me one client to reason
the gray hat revenge I wanted.
This was his last open season
yet for his pride, all chance were wasted.

If our midnight meeting was magical,
If the vodka he offers could just heal
the self-esteem he dismantled,
Maybe I could still end the client's deal.

Well, tables turned, tires gone up.
Though its personal, its still my job.
lessons learned, all were even.
No more midnight vodka to be given.