Ruckus and mess

Cecelia's found a new job, but she wasn't expecting this.

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Brunnhold's college town, located inside the university grounds.

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Cecelia Driscoll
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Mon Nov 12, 2018 12:40 pm

10 Dentis 2718
Morning
Cecelia dodged the morning crowd expertly as she made through what passed for the streets in the Stacks. When she did bump into people, she apologized and moved on before most of them could really register her presence.

It was her first day on her new job and it wouldn't do for her to be late.

Cecelia had spent her months with Sednai looking for a secretary job, being turned away from each one for various reasons and, sometimes, for no apparent reason at all. After exhausting all her options, she decided to look at Galdor-run businesses. She was extremely wary about working for the Galdori, but she needed to be bringing in more money if she wanted to keep her and Sednai afloat. Galiya was growing like a weed and desperately needed a new set of clothes and Cecelia refused to impose on Sednai by asking for a loan to get her daughter some clothes. She had already imposed enough. If Cecelia's calculations were right, the extra from the first pay period with this job would at least buy Galiya a new nightdress.

The building for the newspaper was nondescript enough that Cecelia passed by it on the first attempt. After she had turned around and found the place, she stopped across the street, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. She checked her head scarf and opened her eyes. Okay, Cecelia. Time to shine, she told herself before putting on her best smile and walking into the building.

What she walked into was pure chaos. The first floor was one big room, with various desks scattered about. There were about a dozen desks, smashed into the room with barely enough room between them to walk, and the people that used them were yelling across the office to each other.

"Can someone tell me when my clocking article's going to be back from editing? It's supposed to be in tonight's edition and that's heading to the typesetters in an hour," one of the what Cecelia assumed were reporters yelled.

"How're we supposed to know?" another yelled back. "Haul your erse down and check for it like the rest of us."

Cecelia just stood by the door, her smile fading and her eyes widening as she watched the chaos for a moment. Then she decided to step in. She coughed politely. "Excuse me," she started.

When nobody responded, she coughed louder and spoke up, trying to be heard over the din. "Excuse me!" her usually quiet voice coming out in an inadvertent yell. "I'm Cecelia Driscoll, your new secretary. If you'll tell me who you are and where the editing department is, I would happily go check on your article, sir!"

The room fell silent. Then it hit her. She, a human, had just yelled at a group of gollies.

If she was lucky, they wouldn't call for the Seventen.

So much for this job, she thought with dread. I suppose I can take some off of my cloak and make Galiya a nightgown.
Last edited by Cecelia Driscoll on Tue Nov 13, 2018 12:32 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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Ignatius
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Tue Nov 13, 2018 10:19 am

10 Dentis 2718 | Morning
The Office
Deft fingers wiggled above the keys, the pursed lips paused into a hum. There was the lingering scent of some lead based ink, the faint tackiness that lingered on the tips of his digits. The sleeves were rolled up, past the elbow, the low, single tone hum slicing through the immediate noise and to focus on the task at hand. A sheet of paper was loaded in, sliding it into place the rose quartz eyes peering down the bridge of his nose. He needed to be able to see without the glare of his glasses, the small discomfort from the light that flooded the office. A small pause to check the feed, he took a short screwdriver to the carriage and gradually tightened it. A small click worked past it, and lowering the tool he looked upon his work so far. He wiped the ink from his fingers, studying the keys. He pressed one, and then another, listening to the clicks of the typebar as it left its dark imprint upon the page. A few testing strikes of the space bar, another string of words mostly unrelated rattled across the top, before he pressed the small metallic leaver. A satisfying clink sent the carriage returning across the top, and a new line began.

“Alexandus, your typewriter works now,” the Galdor turned to the journalist on the desk opposite him. The younger Galdor – some dark haired boy really – paused from his scribbled note taking. He blinked as the glasses were returned, the expression easing as the room took on a pink sheen.
“What was wrong with it?”
“The carriage had disconnected from the band that connects the spring. You may want to check the spring tension and get it replaced, but it should do for now,”
The Galdor lifted the typewriter from the base and promptly passed it to the other, “Also you should really clean your keys more often. Be surprised what dust gets trapped under there when you do not cover it.”

With the humming now stopped, the journalist became aware of the sheer amount of noise within. The ringing ding of typewriters, the pitched voices that wrestled against each other. While the younger turned back to his own work, Journalist Vinter began to shift through his notes – silently glad that his own article was not needed for couple of days. It did not mean he had time to slack however, and he imagined with a good lean down into the ear of his boss he would be granted the grace of working from home tomorrow. On the basis he finished his draft however.

Taking up the notepad, he quickly scribbled out a premise; it was the first of many that specifically looked at the history of women, rather obviously pointing out what women had achieved over the last fifty years, who they were and what drove them. Most men snorted at this thought, the director among them – until he saw the serious and disappointed look on the face of the Galdor. The pencil scratched upon the page, words written not in Estuan but Giorian, as he scratched the thoughts out.

He peered, briefly at the note left on his desk – greet, tour and type test new secretary.

“Language! And I will tell you again, Conway, like I told you this morning, yesterday and two days ago –“ the foreigner leaned back in his chair, foot brought up so it rested across the other knee. His words however were cut off when the once squeak pitched up into a shout of an angered woman.

It was quiet enough that you could hear a pin drop.

While the jaws of others hung slack, the low snigger built up into a laugh as the scene painted in his mind. He could see it now, the eyes bulging, the level of rage slowly growing beneath his galdori peers while this petite human announced her presence. He tucked the pencil behind his ear, hands clapping together as he took the scene into his own. A thick accent boomed out, “You tell them, CeiCei!”

It sounded more like SeaSea really.

“Welcome to this office of merry fools and clowns,” Swinging up, he heard the nervous mumbles of the others while he flashed only a smile. Polished boots clacked against the floor, the free hand came to rest upon his bracers, “Now come my peers, and welcome the nice new secretary. Yes yes. Good good. Clap clap.” There was a nervous clap while the Galdor strode across the way towards her; notepad tucked under one arm, wriggling around the closed in bodies, “Thank you. Now, dear writers – no need to gawk now, eyes down. Back to work!”

He clapped his hands together, a small pivot on his heel as the Anaxi went back to their business. So skittish they were, it was just a human. His field prickled, a soft hum that vibrated and stilled; curious, interested, the orbs sweeping around her as he closed the gap. He gave her a bow, as was the custom here, lowering his glasses briefly before returning them, “Hello, I am Journalist Vinter. I believe the director is out at a meeting until lunch, but he informed that I should uh… what is the word? Tour you?” His hand swept back to the growing chaos of the main room, “This is the report and writers room, as you can see we are all chaos here.” He gave a small lean in, an exaggerated whisper, “Between you and me, I believe they are all lost without a capable person such as yourself here.” Returning to his height, he stepped around and gestured down the corridor and up a flight of stairs, “Editing is this way, it is managed by Casimir and Erskine. Also, I believe your typewriter is being stored there – so we shall collect that as we pass… You do know how to type, yes?”
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Cecelia Driscoll
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Tue Nov 13, 2018 12:01 pm

10 Dentis 2718
TIME
Cecelia blushed furiously as one of the Galdori started laughing. Luckily, her dark skin would probably hide the blush. She took a deep, calming breath and swallowed her indignation at the man’s laughter. It was entirely possible that he was laughing at his fellow Galdori, but she didn’t often see Galdori laughing with humans. Usually they were laughing at them, if they were laughing at all.

She closed her eyes and took another deep breath as the clapping started. “I apologize for raising my voice,” she said calmly, loud enough to be overheard above the sporadic, confused clapping. “I am just here to solve problems and it seemed like there was one to be solved.”

Before any of the other Galdori could respond, she found the strange Galdor in front of her. She examined his clothes, her brow furrowing for a moment before it smoothed. The man was dressed in high-quality, flamboyant clothing as all Galdori did, but his clothing didn’t quite match the usual Galdori style. Perhaps he wasn’t Anaxi? Had she misinterpreted his reaction to her outburst? After her split-second once-over, she met his eyes for a mere moment before lowering her eyes. Those eyes. Definitely not full-blooded Anaxi, she thought to herself, hoping that her assumptions about him weren’t accidentally offensive.

“Pleased to meet you, Journalist Vinter,” she said, curtseying to acknowledge that her station was naturally below the Galdor’s. The exaggerated whisper relaxed Cecelia some and she gave a half-smile. “I’ve heard that wrangling journalists is a bit like wrangling cats. Hopefully, my skills will make that easy to do.”

She followed a couple steps behind the Galdor, her tone of voice respectful. “Yes, I know how to type, assuming your models use the standard keyboard instead of some of the more experimental ones. I suppose, though, it’d be highly unlikely for your company to use the experimental ones, since that’d reduce productivity because you'd have to reteach every new employee to type,” she mused, before bringing herself back on track. She figured the Galdor didn’t want to hear about her thoughts on the best layout for keyboards. “I’ve also been trained in how to maintain typewriters and keep them functioning.”
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Ignatius
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Wed Nov 14, 2018 9:47 am

10 Dentis 2718 | Morning
The Office
The journalist gave a study of the human, starting firstly at the crown and winding its way down; the eyes were dark, the chin soft, leading into what he would describe as a rounded face. He drank the aspects in, typical frumpy Anaxi fashion. So stifling and suffocating. Still, she had some manners at least. He paused on the fingers, contemplating the nails and the overall length of the digits; he remembered the previous secretary being armoured with her fingers, calling them her best asset.

Which was a certain truth.

Not that he would openly admit that. He also remembered her being a viper with no sense of humour. He raised a thick eyebrow, humming with thought. This human was comparatively tiny – and he wondered how easy it would be to lift her, or if she would require a pedestal to stand on when in the office. The thoughts continued their tangent, him leading the way as the human spoke.

“Oh, you speak of the Zimmer writer?” He chimmed in, “Yes, they are most interesting in their expansion out from the usual alphabet and symbols and adding more. Though I suppose it would really be only a matter of time before needs and specialisation arises.” The hand gave a flick to dismiss the thought, “But no, most of us the Weltling Standard. Very comfortable, very good for all size of hands.”

Yes, those hands. They were very clean, nails cleaned and not horrendously long. It was clear they were not just the hands of a typist however – were there a few nicks and scars he spied there? Or a trick of the light? It was hard to tell from behind the tinted glasses. He took the last two steps in a single stride, and at the top of a new corridor stopped at the first door on the right. A glass panel sat in it with the word ‘Editing’ scrawled across the surface. He knocked, opening it.

It was a smaller office than the affair downstairs, hosting two desks in its centre. Shelves, boards and all manner of surfaces were dotted around, papers and files open or otherwise. The two occupants, both Galdori men, were busy amending their various documents – they did not look up from their pages while the frantically annotated – but the greying one spoke up in an annoyed, nasally voice.

“Ignatius Vinter,” he began, circling a word in red ink, When will you get it into your brain to only enter when you have been welcomed in?”
“And good morning to you as well, Mister Erskine,”
he gave a flourishing wave, largely ignoring the question for the rhetorical question it was, “I have brought the new secretary with me, just going to step around and apprehend the stored writer-”
The hand waved him on as he awkwardly worked his way around the room to one of the cabinets, “-Yes, yes. Put the ribbon in it before you use it.”

He pryed open one of the cabinets, shifting the contents and largely sticking himself into it, “CeiCei, you should introduce yourself, I will be but a moment. Oh, and the article Conway was moaning about- Oh, of course you…”

The voice broke down into mumbled grunts of Giorian after that.
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Cecelia Driscoll
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Wed Nov 14, 2018 10:58 am

10 Dentis 2718
Morning
Cecelia gave a relieved smile at the Galdor’s back as he talked about typewriters. Clearly, he was familiar with them, which meant she was on fairly safe ground at the moment. “I think the Zimmer has its uses. I think it’s a bit too ambitious to catch on, though. Last I heard, he wanted to make it a universal typewriter, which is a bit difficult when you have consider that other nations might have very different alphabets. But I do have to admire his ambitions,” she said cheerfully.

Her demeanor changed as she entered the editing office, from friendly and slightly relaxed to serious and properly professional. She quickly took in the mess, surprised that there were only two editors for the entire newspaper. Well, that explains why they look frazzled, she thought to herself, making a note to see if she can find a book on proper editing symbols and how to use them. Expanding her skills was always a good idea and if the editing was understaffed, she would eventually need to help them out. It was also entirely likely that some of the journalists would expect her to type up their edited articles.

As Journalist Vinter went to dig out her typewriter, she curtseyed to each Galdor, making sure that she made it respectfully low. While Journalist Vinter seemed friendly enough, she was smart enough to know that it was best to assume that the rest of the Galdori in the office wouldn’t be as friendly. Neither Galdor bothered to look up from his work, but Cecelia hadn’t expected that anyways. She used the opportunity to examine the mess, making notes on what she would change to encourage efficiency, if she was actually allowed to change such things. “Cecelia Driscoll, at your service, Sirs,” she said. “Please don’t hesitate to reach out if you need help. I aim to make your jobs easier on you and have many skills that can do that.”

Cecelia knew she sounded like an advertisement, but she also knew that she needed to let the Galdori know that she was actually a useful human. She didn’t know how racist these Galdors were towards humans. If they were one of the truly hateful Galdori, giving them the impression she was useful might make them a bit less likely to make the office truly hostile.

I really hope that I’m not in over my head, she thought to herself.
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Ignatius
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Mon Nov 19, 2018 6:49 am

10 Dentis 2718 | Morning
The Office
Editor Erskine continued to work, his hand waved dismissively to the secretary – barely paying much mind to her. Why did they always send humans? Where they so desperately scraping the barrel that they allowed their lessers to join their ranks? Ignatius was almost aware of the thoughts that rolled around the head of the elder galdor; he was long in the tooth and quick to vocalise his thoughts to the slightest provocation when it came to non-galdor. The three fields in the office shifted, Casimir being the most complacent – the same monotone hum that vibrated across the air.

Shifting the contents, he became acutely aware of the flexing of Erskine’s and hurried in his motions. Contents were shoved aside, a grip on the typewriter found as he dragged it out. The shoulder closed the cabinet, and he stepped across the way. The edited sheet was turned over, before being added to the pile, “Conway has yet again written trash.” The sheets were shuffled together and clipped. In the out tray he dropped the load, “But, it is done now. He will complain; he always does. And then wonder why he never rises above his column.”

Ignatius tucked the machinery under one arm and took the editing with his free hand. Erskine snorted at him, “Not going to make the human take the load, Vinter? Or are you going to show off your primitive Giorian strength again?”
The journalist paused, frowning briefly touching upon his brow before his lips peeled back into a smile, “Erskine, words of wisdom already. Tell me, how is your hip of late?”

His eyes slid past the elder Galdor and to the walking stick he had leant up against the desk. He watched the elder man shift, grey eyes shifting from his work for the first time. Ignatius continued to smile, aware that that Erskine became the product of his own making through the Backlash in the mona. Over reliance in his youth was his downfall – Ignatius made effort to read up on the once Captain who pushed himself to the point of crippling, all in the name of proving a point.

Ironically all because he could not be bothered to lift that damned box himself.

“It is fine.”
“Glad to hear it,”
Leaning away, the journalist passed the papers to Cecelia and gestured her to leave. It was probably for the best, the editor was starting to become prickly. Once out in the corridor, he shifted the weight of the typewriter. He gestured down the corridor, another flash of teeth as he studied the tiny creature before him, “So down that way is the records room. We keep copies of all our papers there for memory sake. And beyond that is our reference collection, primarily books on general topics, history, leaflets, portfolios, imagery… things on the chance we reporters and journalists need to refer or build a base of understanding. Finally, beyond them is a dark and dangerous place we call… advertising. We shall visit them, but only this once. Now, with me.”

He strode off down the corridor, past another set of doors until he at last reached the desired one. The word Advertising was written on the glass of this one, a dull light escaping followed by the shrill laughter of some Galdor woman – Cynthia. A smashing of something came after that, the laughter continuing while the mumbled apologies of some other male – Bernard. The journalist flexed his hand over the handle, lips pursing with thought, “Maybe we just should not?”
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Cecelia Driscoll
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Mon Nov 19, 2018 1:00 pm

10 Dentis 2718
Morning
Cecelia was mostly unperturbed by Erskine’s reaction, though she bristled at being called “the human.” But she would take that if it meant he didn’t think enough of her to challenge her advertisement of her skills. “Okay, so let’s tentatively throw him in the ‘definitely unfriendly, but doesn’t think humans are worth acknowledging’ folder,” she thought to herself. “I suppose there’s no need to rush on learning editing skills. He’s certainly not going to lower himself to asking a human for help. But keep it on the list of things to do. If there are any reporters who don’t want to work with him, I wouldn’t mind stepping in.”

She hid a small smile underneath a carefully calm face as she watched the interaction between Journalist Vinter and the editor. She didn’t know what the history of Erskine’s hip problem was, but the fact that he actually looked up from his work made it clear to her that Journalist Vinter had hit a sore spot. She would never admit it, especially at work, but she did enjoy watching people who underestimated and dismissed her as a human get taken down a peg and she didn’t particularly care whether it actually involved them having to reassess their opinion of her. It probably was petty, but she wasn’t a perfect person and everyone was allowed their flaws.

Cecelia took the papers from Journalist Vinter with a nod and followed him out the door. “Do you have copies of every issue of the Vienda Weekly or just the issues from this office?” she asked as they passed the records room. She knew that this office had only been established within the last year, but she wouldn’t be surprised if they had copies of the original Vienda Weekly. At the very least, they would be good references for standards of writing and publication. And, while she had left Vienda and doubted she would return, part of her still missed the city.

She made a mental note to check out the reference section. They might have information on editing and she was fairly certain that Erskine would rather cut his hand off than allow a human to even touch his editing references. In fact, she suspected that he would be deeply offended if she asked.

She arched an eyebrow at the sounds of chaos coming from the advertising offices. “I take it that advertising is not one of the… calmer departments,” she chuckled, though she mentally cringed at the noise coming from behind the door. “I suppose every business has one of those departments, doesn’t it? It must be the best way to keep a business from getting boring.”

She paused for a minute before speaking again. "Is that where my office is? The hiring manager didn't tell me if I would be working with one specific department or would be a general secretary, floating around wherever I was needed most. He... didn't tell me much of anything, to be honest. He just told me to be here this morning, so here I am."
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Ignatius
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Thu Nov 22, 2018 5:45 am

10 Dentis 2718 | Morning
The Office
Ignatius’ head turned to Cecelia, eyes blinking at the question. So focused he was on the concept of entering the advertising department, that his mind skipped a few beats. The pink eyes focused on the human, the native language being translated in his foreign brain. The Journalist flashed another smile, white teeth peeking out between lips as his cheeks rose into his glasses, “Ah, the weekly? No we do not. We only have the prints produced of this office. Well, that is not completely true…” He clicked his fingers together several times, hand rotating as he tried to find the words, “We have the recent prints produced from Vienda, but only for the last half a year. Anything before that we do not have access to. However, we do have a catalogue of the print dates, article titles, authors and a small summary of each – so we can at least gain specific pieces on request. Such takes time.”

Scratching his chin, he regarded the office door once more with a deeper frown, “Advertising is… eccentric at best.”

An understatement in of itself. He was certain Cynthia was something possessed with the pure fury she brought to the role – Bernard was her unwitting slav-. He corrected the thought to minion. He shrugged, “I think they are busy right now – perhaps another time. De, that is wise. Let us do that.” He shooed the human back down the corridor, “Ah yes, I believe the director wishes for your desk to be downstairs in the main room and by his office door – You may have noticed another door when you announced yourself so grandiosely, yes?”

He shifted the weight of the typewriter in his grasp, heeled shoes clacking against the wooden floor, “Well, by there is another desk. As for your tasks… I do not know exactly. I believe he was aiming to have you primarily be as an aid for the writers, so manage our diaries, our interviews, makes sure we have copious amounts of hot beverages in… Chase up editors and prints. Perhaps go out and collect deliveries or even articles from writers when they are working from home.

“You may even be requested to serve as an assistant to writers when out there in the big world, following them for when they are conducting their next big story!” His free hand swept across then, as if gesturing to the entire world. Least until he paused. He glanced over his shoulder to her, orbs looking her up and down behind rose tinted glasses – of course, when that happened they would have to do something about her clothing. Assistants must be presentable after all.

His lip curled to that, mind flickering through what colours would be good to use. Blue, perhaps – it was also a colour of his lesser, so in some regards that was apt. Perhaps a dash of white – off frost shades? He was not too sure exactly, he had yet received the time to truly study her. Sensing his staring may have been off-putting, the Galdor turned his attention forwards and the stairs he was about to scurry back down. Beyond the hubbub of noise began to creep up once more, the writers beginning their ribald of shouts to each other.

“But, in time. For now it is to settle, unwind, so forth – I am sure the Director will tell you more in the meanwhile. For now,” his fingers tapped the side of the typewriter, “Any questions? We shall set you up for a type test as well – mainly to gain a base of you speed and accuracy when working. It is a good thing to know.”
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Cecelia Driscoll
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Thu Nov 22, 2018 10:53 am

10 Dentis 2718
Morning
Cecelia nodded at Journalist Vinter’s answer to her question about the records room. “How silly of me. I imagine it’d be a bit of a haul to bring all the past issues here. It’s good to know that I can get access to them if I need it,” she said. “Here’s hoping your coworkers don’t expect me to get the copies they need immediately, though,” she laughed. She winced internally after she realized what she had said. Journalist Vinter seemed to be friendly, but implying that Galdori were less than perfect could end up getting a Galdor’s back up.

Cecelia blushed at the Galdor’s mention of her entrance. “Yes, well. I was a bit distracted. Good to know I’ll be in the thick of things, though,” she laughed. She ticked off the tasks he listed in her head, comparing them to what she had done for Cairistonia, Edwin, and Diena, her previous bosses. The only thing she hadn’t done some variation of was be a direct assistant to a writer. “Oh good. It sounds like I’ll be quite busy,” she said cheerfully, secretly relieved that everything was in her skillset.

She noticed his examination of her and tilted her chin upward some, daring him to comment on her clothes. She knew she didn’t look well-dressed in any way – her blouse and skirt had been mended many times – but she had done the best she could. She was fully planning on investing in some professional-quality clothing once she could afford it.

She smiled at the Galdor as they made their way back to the newsroom. “No, it seems straightforward enough. I expected a typing test, so I’m not surprised there.”

The Galdor gave Conway his article, leaving Conway grumbling. Before the two of them could even finish walking across the aisle, Conway yelled. “Secretary! Type this up for me!”

Cecelia hurried back over to him and smiled. “Of course, Sir,” she said pleasantly, praying that there was an editing reference at her desk. She caught up with Journalist Vinter, smiling at him. “I suppose that typing test is going to have to wait, unless the Director wants it done now. If you’ll point me to my desk, I can get started.”
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Ignatius
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Sat Nov 24, 2018 10:30 am

10 Dentis 2718 | Morning
The Office
“I am sure you will be able to hone that focus in good time,” The return to the main office was rather uneventful; the Galdor faced head, quietly pocketing and noting the words said by the human. How insightful they were, they allowed his orbs to flitter back and forth – piecing together a mental image on whom she was and where she came from. A poor instrument, he knew the Director had particular expectations of those who worked beneath him. To look the part was one of them. She gave him that look of challenge too, but he made no rise to it. He was above that and she beneath him.

Ignatius gave a flick of his hand, “Then you will no doubt be a most useful asset to this enterprise. Though, I imagine the Director would be the one to have a say on the certainty of that. The biannual review will yield the true results.”

Passing the papers to Conway, he knew it would take no time before the man passed it off. He was lazy and an oaf; normally throwing together some slapdash at the last minute and barely sending it off to the print in time. The Journalist was certain he could easily do the job of the Anaxi and his own with time to spare. Of course, such was not available to him and he knew the director was not going to rid himself of Conway anytime soon – the advantage of being a relative he supposed.

Now was it first or second cousin? I can never remember. It does not matter.

He raised an eyebrow, a pivot turn to the man. The lips pursed into a thin line, the small pinching of features. Yet in a flash the smile returned, and the Journalist traipsed off down the aisle, “This way CeiCei.”

He stepped around the other desks, fingers gently pressing against the various chairs that stuck out too far. A small push, the various inhabitants received the hint and tucked their chairs in. It was towards the left he lead, Towards a wall of shelves with a single door embedded centrally within it. It was jutting out alongside the door however that an empty desk jutted out. The Galdor placed down the typewriter, looked to the chair upon the other side and presented it to her with a sweep of the hand.

“And so, Ta-daa,” his finger gave a point, “I believe there is ribbon for the typewriter in the bottom left draw, along with paper and tools for maintenance. The company diary is in the top right.” He allowed her to settle, giving a brief cursory glance, “And perhaps such is the case. I will be sure to inform him that needs arose and you will simply have to do it another day.” He gave her a bow, “I wish you much luck on your task. Gods speed for you.” He gave a point to the other side of the room towards a desk located in a corner where direct daylight did not penetrate, “And should you require any additional aid until the director arrives, I will be all but a call away.”

A flash of a smile, the red headed Galdor began to hone his mind back to the thoughts of his draft and the task he had set himself.
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