hadriel_logs | (no subject)

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(no subject)

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?"

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[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.]

[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?

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.

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?"

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."

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.

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.

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.

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.]

[Maketh is quiet for a moment. Then:]

Yes. Somewhat. Things are coming to a head. We must be prepared.

Lemme guess: for Love's big ol' comeback?

[Yeah, consider him quietly bracing himself for the inevitable chaos when Love arrives. Somehow he doubts everything's gonna go swimmingly.]

Precisely. [There's no way it will go gently. Maketh shakes her head.] Afterward, they'll be stronger. Much stronger. And I suspect their true plan will begin to reveal itself.

Assumin' they don't keep bein' as cagey about it as they have been.

[He's gonna go ahead and park himself in one of the chairs, 'cause who can deal with all this standing? It's exhausting.]

Gonna need all hands on deck, I'm guessin'.

I doubt they'll be helpful. But something bigger will be more difficult to conceal.

[She hopes, at least. It's hard to tell sometimes. The gods operate on a different scale than anything she's known before.]

Yes, we will. [Maketh watches him a moment.] Are you worried about someone?

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.

[He's worried about a lotta people, it turns out. His hands slip outta his pockets so he can fold them, lean forward, bracing his forearms across the smooth rounds of his kneecaps.]

Bit curious about Guard openings, actually. [He hastens to add:] Not for me. Pretty useless in a fight, it turns out.

But it could be, uh - complicated.

[That's one way of puttin' it.]

Maketh stiffens and forces herself to smile. Her first instinct is to smack his hand. Her second is to yell at him. Things are arranged in a specific way and he is messing up the system. "I have someone who helps. But it must be done, so I am doing it. Please do not get those out of order."

And much as she'd like, she can't drag Amos out at all hours.

Maketh takes a breath. She's not going to yell. She's going to be professional.

"I believe the gods have done something. We all perceive the same spoken and written language, despite some among us knowing multiple languages and our worlds being vastly different."

[That's a curious way to put it. Maketh tips her head to the side, considering him.]

In what way?

Yes, Regis is messing up her sense of order, isn't he? What a pest he is! A royal pest at that. The former king mulls over her answer for a time before settling the papers back down upon the desk. He stares at them for a moment before reaching for a blank sheet from the Maketh's note book.

"Excuse me." He says as he rips out a sheet. The sound is piercing and loud, an annoying reminder that Regis doesn't seem to know his boundaries here. Then again, Regis does sport a somewhat mischievous grin. Is he purposely bothering her? Maybe. Just maybe. Regis falls silent for a time as he scribbles something onto a page. The native tongue of his world is something of an oddity. It's elegant and fancy much like traditional cursive but it's not English or Galactic Common. If anyone knows of Latin, then they would be able to read his message normally without the gods aid.

"There." Regis announces as he holds up the page. "Can you actually read this?" He questions with a cheerful smirk. If Maketh actually humors him, she'll find that the message is a request for her to join him for tea later.

Her eye is twitching. Maketh covers it with a hand. Her smile is, perhaps, a touch strained.

"I do not drink tea. But you will make me coffee and refrain--" this part she emphasizes-- "from disturbing my work."

He arches his brow some. "You like only coffee?" Goodness, she oddly enough reminds him of someone he knows. Regis been trying to guess Maketh's age for some time now and so far, he assumes her to be no older than Ignis and Gladiolus. She's not quite as immature as those gentlemen but she certainly seems to be around their age.

"Coffee it is." Regis complies with a slight smirk before suddenly frowning once Maketh scolds him. "I wasn't aware I was disturbing you." Bullshit. He's quite aware but doesn't particularly care.

"I'll be on my best behavior."

They're pretty young.

[He won't beat around the bush. And, hey, it's their choice whether or not they decide to pursue the path if he makes the offer. He just don't wanna cut any hopes short prior to the fact.]

A kid, actually.

[A child. Maketh doesn't say anything for a moment. Then:]

How capable are they, exactly?

"Tea is ineffective."

Besides, she enjoys the taste of properly brewed coffee. It's one of the few indulgences that Maketh allows herself.

She huffs, rubbing her face. It's clear now that Regis isn't going to go away unless she either snaps or indulges him. She's not in a position to drive away potential allies, so that leaves going along with it.

Wonderful.

"Oh, I am sure."

Maketh takes a breath, then lets it out. Smiles.

"Well. When shall we do this thing, then?"

Very.

[He don't have to add much more to that. Capable of striking a dusty path through all of monsterkind, for one, and doin' so solo - both of 'em.

Would both of 'em...?]

More than capable of holding their own against most of the shit down here.

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