(no subject)

[mismanagement]

Who: Maketh and open
What: Catching up on work
Where: Guard post
When: March 10-14
Warnings: tbd. Will match format.



One of these days, Maketh thought, she was going to take a sick day and just watch the chaos unfold in her perfectly organized Guard post. Aside from the leadership and Amos, very few of Hadriel's citizens -guardsmen or not - bothered to turn in reports or if they did, to file them properly. Which was fine right up until someone needed the information and it was nowhere to be found.

Maketh stared into the dregs of her coffee mug and thought very hard about topping it off with some whiskey.

But, no. She was not doing that anymore.

Maketh rubbed her face with a groan.

"Stop staring. Do you want something or not?"

Comments

[skelebro]

[It's only been a couple days since the fresh outpouring of newbies washed a mess of fresh new problems for him to contend with, including a former star of the Underground that don't seem to be acting much of the star anymore, and has a whole set of memories that don't align with what he's come to expect from people from the Underground.

The whip-crack sharpness of the question, when he enters, takes him a shade off guard but, hey, she must'a had a hard week too. It's been a rough time for a lotta people. Maketh's no exception.]

Heya. Didn't mean to interrupt, [he rumbles evenly.]

[mismanagement]

[Maketh rubs her face with a sigh, taking a deep breath.]

I'm sorry. That was rude of me.

[Sans has always been polite to her. That counts for something. The least she can do is return the favor.]

What do you need, Sans?

[skelebro]

To check up on ya, for starters.

[All right, so that wasn't the first item on the docket. But if she's lookin' that worn out, stands to reason that he make sure she ain't about to split apart at the seams.]

Seem kinda stressed.

[mismanagement]

There is a great deal of work to be done.

[The weapon. All the newcomers. The impending arrival of the last god. Maketh shakes her head. It's no excuse. The work must go on.]

But I will see it through. As always.

[skelebro]

More than usual?

[There's that quintessential human determination, rearin' its head again. The consistent ability to press through despite all else; it's impressive, don't get him wrong. He just don't know how they all manage it.]

[kingslight]

A gentle chuckle escapes the kindly old king once he gets that less than warm welcome. "As charming as ever, Maketh Tua." Regis replies as he approaches her desk with such an amused smile upon his lips. He looks quite dapper as always in his trademark black and gray but this time he has a splash of color in the form of a petunia colored tunic that is neatly tucked away under a charming gray blazer. Despite being an unwilling citizen of this hellish nightmare of a city, Regis always looks quite regal and poised. It's a skill of its own that the king achieved after long years of being in the public eye. A man's clothing should compliment his personality, never overshadow him.

"I take it that your bitter draught is the culprit here for your foul mood, that and your endless paperwork." Regis jokes as he makes himself comfortable upon a spare chair. The handsome old gentleman sits upon the chair looking quite smug as he eyes Maketh with a hint of mirth. Clearly this is a social call since Regis isn't making any demands or even fussing. He's simply there watching her with muted amusement. Maketh is probably going to yell at him for being such a pest even if he's not trying to cause distraction.

[mismanagement]

Maketh fights back a groan and composes her face. She's not going to yell. She's better than that. Professional. "Someone must do the work. What do you need, Regis?"

[kingslight]

He's mildly shocked that the guardswoman hasn't taken up theatrics yet. Maketh seems like the type to start fussing and cussing if the mood fits her right. Then again, she's also quite professional usually despite the scowl. Regis is becoming increasingly fond of that scowl by the way.

"Nothing in particular." He says quietly with a respectful nod. "Merely passing the time."

[mismanagement]

Do not snap at him. Do not yell at Regis like he is an incompetent storm trooper or - even worse - an officer who should have known better. Maketh pinches the bridge of her nose. It doesn't really help. "And you have decided to pass it here."

That's just....wonderful.

[kingslight]

Please don't snap at dear Regis, Maketh. He honestly means no harm, mostly, but he is being a tad intrusive. Especially since Regis is taking a peek at some of her paperwork with keen interest. "Indeed, I have." Regis states plainly as he reaches towards her desk to pluck one of the many papers off her impressive stack.

"Does anyone aid you with such tasks? This is an absurd amount of work." It's already been established that Regis is a privileged old coot but this is taking the cake. He reads over the papers idly before reaching for another one. Regis eyes both pages with intrigue before suddenly turning to Maketh with mild surprise.

"...How is it that we share a language when the written aspect of it is so foreign between us?" The king questions before glancing down at the page again.

[iustitiae]

Sorry, I just --

[connor's bad at being snapped at. always has been. but it's doubly worse when he knows that he probably is in the wrong here. interrupting work, staring at maketh, generally being unhelpful.

and yet here he is anyway.]

I just wanted to check in with you. After everything.

[after the doubles, after the mess, after cleaning up. maketh took care of so many people when they arrived -- but who took care of her?]

[mismanagement]

[Maketh closes her eyes and counts to ten. Takes a breath and lets it out slowly. Opens her eyes.]

I---apologize. I should not have said that.

[She clears her throat. It's not fair to the others to act like this.]

Hello, Connor.

[iustitiae]

I know it's not an easy job.

[taking care of the whole city. dealing with monthly invasions of monsters.]

How are you doing, though?

[mismanagement]

[Maketh just sighs. She shouldn't be snapping at people like this. It's not even the first time she's slipped up. Utterly unprofessional.]

I am fine. Did you need something, Connor?

[iustitiae]

Not really. I just wanted to check on you.

[does he really believe that she's "fine"]

[survivethis]

Jill checked in at the guard post, always stopping by when she was making her rounds around the city. Not that she usually had anything to report, and when there was something to report, it was pretty obvious something was wrong since the whole city was dealing with it.

Jill had a lot of respect for Maketh and Henry and the things they've accomplished here, though since very little changes, it must be frustrating no matter how much they try to do.

At the question, Jill blinked, then shook her head. "I wanted to know if you needed any help."

[mismanagement]

And now she's done it yet again, snapped at someone who is not currently causing any trouble. Maketh shivers all over, fighting the urge to slap herself and let the shock of it force her into a better mood. "I apologize. That was not professional of me. Your work has always been satisfactory."

[survivethis]

Jill shakes her head. "No need to apologize. We can't be professional all the time." They're still human. People have feelings. Sometimes they make mistakes, too. Though Jill gets the feeling Maketh doesn't tolerate mistakes, especially her own.

"Still, I can help with whatever you might need. I've had to push paper before. Never liked it much."

[mismanagement]

There are standards to be upheld. Someone must stand as an example. But she bites her tongue and does not say that. "You have some experience--military, yes?"

Maketh rubs her face briefly.

"Describe their organizational system. Perhaps this can be done better."

[survivethis]

Jill knows the feeling. A lot of people looked up to her back home. To her and to Chris. Here, that pressure was off of her shoulders. They didn't know the name Valentine and Redfield here.

"I was trained military, but I work for an independent organization now. Back home, all of that stuff went into a computer." She waves a hand to the assortment on the desk. Jill imagines it would've been the same wherever Maketh comes from, but that doesn't help them here, obviously.

[souveraine]

"I apologize, am I disturbing you?" Anne asked as she ventured into the room. She looked very different than she had when she had first arrived- today she wore jeans and a loose sweater, a short sword which had been made for her hanging from her hip. She was proud of how she was learning to defend herself with a sword and guns, feeling stronger than she ever had before.

"If I am, I do not mind coming back later," she offered as she paused by the door, her expression uncertain. Maketh was like no woman she had ever met before and Anne had a great deal of respect and affection for her. But no friendship could be based off lies and while Anne had never lied outright about what she was, she had never been outright honest either. She had to be honest and she wanted to tell Maketh before the truth came out in a worse way.

[mismanagement]

"Anne?"

Oh, damn it all. Maketh tips her head back and takes a deep breath. "I apologize. That was unprofessional of me. Please, come in."

[souveraine]

"I should have let you know I was coming," Anne assured her as she came in to sit in one of the other chairs.

She took a deep breath, she hoped that Maketh would be understanding. She didn't want to lose the first friend she had ever had since her mother. "If you have a moment, there was something I wanted to talk to you about."

[mismanagement]

It takes Maketh a moment to process the look on Anne's face - the concealed tension. It's well hidden but still there, visible around her eyes.

Maketh leans back in her chair, paperwork forgotten.

"I am listening."

[souveraine]

"I have never had a chance to have a friend in such a long time. I never hand the chance to be anyone outside my duty to my people so when I was given that chance here, I took it," she explained, her voice firm now. She wouldn't make any excuses, she was who she was.

"I know royal titles mean nothing here, this is not my country, but I did still conceal the truth from you and for that, I apologize," she said as she met Maketh's gaze.

"I am a princess by birth and am Queen of France by marriage," she explained. "I've never had to learn to do much by myself before, I've always lived sheltered in a palace."