[open] August in Enma

[eyediot]

Who ⬤ Jon and whoever wants to deal with this
What ⬤ Enma office problems, around the apartment block, yukata shopping
When ⬤ The end of July and first week of August before tanabata event
Where ⬤ Enma offices, Enma apartment block, others
Content Warnings ⬤ No real life office products were harmed in the making of this log. I'll amend this should anything else come up in threads.


Week One

[After several weeks of arriving here, it's been made clear to him that his superiors have no intention of letting Jonathan transfer out of the law enforcement department. He has no wish to stay surrounded by police, particularly not after some of the rumors he has caught wind of. Deals under tables, handshakes behind closed doors. No, he would much rather be elsewhere. But he isn't.

He's trapped. Again. It isn't until the third week he gets the bright idea. Who else had he known that hated their job, their ineffectual boss, and couldn't leave?

So the third week, Jon walks in, coffee cup in hand, and looks up at the doors. And it's with the clearest of thought process he asks himself: What would Tim do?

Nothing so far as real property damage, and nothing to really be reprimanded for. But enough to be annoying. Enough to make it known he hates it here. Yes. Yes, that is the mindset he enters with each day now.

Throughout the first week, Jon is doing any number of things. From letting his phone ring for minutes on end while he stares intently at a paper on his desk. To slowly tearing another paper into strips, so, so slowly it would almost seem intentional. There are countless times the coffee pot is found empty. Or, if it has been restarted for a fresh pot, it's only decaf.

Jon himself can be found at his desk diligently working it seems. None the wiser about any of these things.]

Week Two

[His transfer request out of this office has still not been acknowledged. Which really only means one thing: escalation. Not by much; he doesn't want to actually cause injury but perhaps larger, more inconvenient annoyances.

He hands in reports with the papers stapled on both top corners. Occasionally setting the copier to 30 pages and forgetting to reset when he's finished, only for the next unsuspecting victim to end up with 30 copies themselves. Files he receives, Jon will send back if he finds the most minute of grammatical or spelling error to be rewritten. While others are out to lunch, they may come back to find things moved just slightly a few inches on their desk. Any desks next to each other may have some trouble, their computer mouse not working only for their desk mate to find their cursor moving erratically without input (it's a simple thing, to track the cords to the opposite user's desk).

What might be the most infuriating part is that Jon... does do his job. While he seems nearly lackadaisical about it, he gets it all done with minimal errors. And well. If he sees someone around having issues with their phone, or figuring out how to use the basic functions of a computer, Jon does stop to assist. He was put in charge of tech support, wasn't he? Who would he be if he simply ignored that. There's an earnestness to it when Jon assists anyone who needs the help.

It doesn't stop him from printing 20 copies of his transfer request form by the last day of the fourth week he's there though.]

Enma Apartment Block

[One of the few nonessential things he's spent his tiny stipend on is decent cookware. So nearly any evening of the week, Jon's windows are open and there is the smell of delicious homecooked food coming from it.

There are some days he's realized he's cooked too much. And it won't keep well. So. Knock knock, on your door, it's the smell of food and a slightly nervous nerd waiting on the other side.]

Um. Yes, I- I live a few doors down and made too much. Was wondering if you could take the rest.

[Otherwise, he might be out by the railing having a smoke. Staring down at it.] Doesn't taste the same.

Yukata Shopping

Christ... Of all the bloody things...

[Jon's starting a little too late in the shopping for a yukata for the event. Enma wants them all to go, and while he still doesn't agree the actual police shouldn't be quite so ready to partake in things that may cause problems later, Jon also doesn't consider himself to be part of the police. It's a weird line to walk, one he can't help but feel is a repeat of a song he'd turned off before already. Consciously knowing he's part of a system he hates and can do nothing about it seems and wanting no part of it, while unconsciously not wanting to cause problems or be reprimanded.

He's out at the last minute trying to find something to wear. Because if he's going to be stuck going to this thing, he's going to at least not stick out. The problem is starting to look so close to the event itself, the only yukata left to fit his wiry frame without being children's sizes are... questionable.

Jon stares at it, somehow simply knowing it's the only choice there is here. Not without going to a multitude of other shops.]

It really would be this one, wouldn't it. I can't see anything else. [He'll turn to the nearest person with it in hand, almost dead inside:] What do you think?

Comments

[killtime]

[ Oh, he’s polite. Maybe a little suspicious of her intentions, but polite. ]

Don’t worry. [ Wryly: ] If I wanted something from you, I wouldn’t be subtle about it.

[ Then with a bit of amicable mockery: ]

Maybe when you’re at least a sergeant.

[eyediot]

Hmph. Let's hope that never happens.

[Jon feels like he'd rather die a third time than be more entangled with this police department.

So it's likely not a total surprise a few weeks later, after the Tanabata festival has been cleaned up, that Jon has made his way to Andy's office (used several times already, alone and quiet) to sit behind the desk. And then ceremoniously drop his head in his hands.

Promoted to sergeant and more responsibilities. At least he's working directly with records now, but he had hoped to be out of all this.]

[killtime]

[ For all her other faults, Andy is usually true to her word — which means that Jon really does get the office to himself most of the time, rarely ever having to brush elbows with her. It goes on like this for a few weeks without incident — and if she's perfectly honest, she wouldn't have known anything changed if his body language wasn't so obvious when she walks in the door. The faction gets new recruits regularly enough. Sometimes those recruits earn their stars. Andy doesn't trouble herself to know all their names and ranks.

But something happened. The man looks like his dog just died.

He gets her usual wryness and a slightly arched eyebrow. ]

Bad day?

[eyediot]

[He doesn't fully lift his head, but he does remember Andy's voice from the couple of conversations in passing.]

I was promoted.

[It sounds like it's the worst thing in the world that could have happened. Which is bold coming from the man who literally looks like he's been through hell.]

[killtime]

[ She nudges the door shut behind her, then leans up against it casually. It's probably better that he doesn't look up at her — that way he can't see the slight upward curve at the corner of her mouth. She's got a mean sense of humor, this woman. Hers is an amicable antagonism. ]

Oh. [ Wryly: ] It's Sergeant Sims now, is it?

[ He'll hate that. She knows he will. ]

[eyediot]

Do not.

[It's said with a firm desperation of a man not wanting to acknowledge his own achievements. He wasn't trying to get a promotion when he went after those kidnappers. He was worried about the girl, as a bit of a being-kidnapped-expert himself.]

I wanted to get out, now I'm even more tangled up in all this. I'm never getting out now.

[killtime]

[ Her smile, like her humor, is a little mean. ]

That's the nature of hell, isn't it.

[ She comes to sit in one of the chairs opposite the desk, propping one arm up and resting her face in her hand. ]

Soon you won't need my office anymore. [ Dryly: ] You'll have one of your own.

[eyediot]

I won't bring you cigarettes anymore if you keep that up.

[That's a lie, he'll keep doing it. But as she sits, he lifts his head up and leans it back against his chair to stare at the ceiling.]

But I suppose that is the nature of hell, yes. Naturally, I can't be assigned to do work that matches my own skill sets.

[killtime]

[ There's a glint of amusement in her eyes at his empty threat, faint crow's feet betraying her even though she doesn't quite laugh. Wryly, but not unsympathetically: ]

It's all very Sisyphean. [ She'd probably be less accepting of it all if she were a couple thousand years younger. But at her age, there are less things that she has the energy to get worked up over. Besides, the office is more tolerable with Jon around. More entertaining too, with his little acts of rebellion. ] But you managed to get promoted anyway. If you were doing work you actually like, you'd probably be my fucking boss by now.

[eyediot]

[There's history there to that, being promoted in work he actually liked. And where that all ended up... He'd rather not think about it. He focuses on the papers on the desk in front of him, some nonsense IT request he can't make heads or tails of. How should he know about printer toner and scheduled print requests?]

Let's hope it never comes to that. I have it on good experience that I'm not the best boss.

[killtime]

[ Andy doesn't seem troubled to make herself productive, despite being in her office. Sure, she'll do a spot of paperwork now and then if she has to — but most of her utility to the Department is outside the office. This woman is the Enma's sword, not his pen. No, she's here mostly to be a nuisance to Jonathan Sims. ]

Yeah? Well, that shit is relative. And the bar isn't exactly high around here. [ Andy herself is not exactly what a person might call hands on. Wryly then: ] What's the worst that can happen, you get someone killed? We're already in hell, babe.

[eyediot]

[It takes everything in Jon's willpower not to openly snort at that. 'The worst that could happen', WELL....

How many did he get killed because of his own incompetence? Because of his choices? He would rather not entirely think on it, despite the names of everyone he's lost still very vivid in his mind.]

I'm aware. It may just be better if I don't actively make things more miserable.

[killtime]

[ She relates more than she might say out loud. Andy's carried the burden of leadership for a long time. She knows the guilt of getting people killed. Of being the one to live when her choices spilled the blood of others. But she had no choice except to continue on. Couldn't even offer her own life as penance if she wanted to, and the little gods know she's tried more times than she should probably admit.

On the surface though, she only offers a wan smile, shrugging her shoulders in a noncommittal way. ]

I would say having you around makes things marginally less miserable. [ Dryly: ] Or at least a little more entertaining.

[eyediot]

[Jon does glance up at that. Sees the humor in what she's saying and smiles a little back. He's still unsure what exactly his position and place is amongst all these enforcement officers, but this is a camaraderie he can be familiar with.]

I suppose I have to be good at something while I'm here.

[killtime]

[ There's another one of her wry, sidelong looks for him. ]

Do you? [ Andy, for her part, seems to enjoy this back-and-forth. This is a man that she'll be able to tolerate. Maybe even be friendly with, in time. ] Careful, Sergeant. I would hate to tell the Enma what a good job you're doing.

[eyediot]

And I would hate to tell the lower ranking newbies where your office is should they have any questions.

[He says it without even looking up from his own work. Jon, for all his bluster of not liking this office, doesn't take that long to get comfortable with someone he gets along with marginally well.]

[killtime]

Touché.

[ All jokes aside, Andy would probably throw herself out that tiny little window behind her desk. Jon already knows her a bit too well, making threats like that even in jest. ]

You know there's a reason I don't handle the orientation shit. [ Multiple reasons, really. Mostly to do with the fact that she's an unrepentant asshole. ] It'd be a fucking lose-lose.

[eyediot]

I can't say I would be much better at it, to be honest. My previous employment, I was mostly kept out of new hire orientation and training.

[killtime]

Oh?

[ She's not usually one to engage like this — better not to know people, with the inevitability of human mortality and all — but she's a little curious, she can admit that. Besides, she's already shown more interest in this one than anyone else she's met in this damned building. What's there to lose now? ]

Can't imagine why. [ Dryly: ] I'm sure a stubborn determination to make copies is useful with that orientation shit.

[eyediot]

I think that would be more in line with someone who wants to take on training which is absolutely out of my wheelhouse.

I would... genuinely much rather be given a task to do alone and be left to my devices.

[killtime]

[ She gives him a pointed little look. ]

Do you really have that hard a fucking time playing with others?

[ Not that she's one to talk. It's not that she can't play well with others — it's just that she's ornery in her old age, and she much prefers not to. Besides, the risk of forming any significant attachment to another person is much lower if you simply refuse to be around other people. ]

[eyediot]

[He hesitates, looking over at her out the corner of his eye. Something needed to keep his hands busy so it doesn't look like he's just ...standing around talking exactly like they are.]

I say again I'm not... particularly skilled at people. So, yes. I... do have that hard a time.

[killtime]

[ Andy eyes him for another moment, then glances away with a half-amused exhale. ]

People are difficult.

[ Wonderful, sometimes — even beautiful. But also terrible. And complicated. The last several thousand years probably would have been easier for her if she'd ever learned to stay away from them, but the immortal hermit stereotype had never really been for her. No, despite everything, she's a creature that needs bonds. Maybe that's why they're standing here and talking now, even in this office that she says she fucking hates. ]

It's a shame we usually end up needing each other.

[eyediot]

[He'd been particularly lucky to have Martin in the end of everything. His anchor, his light. Things would have likely gone for the worse if he hadn't managed to save him from the Lonely and Peter. But walking the Apocalypse with him, saving their universe and damning multitudes of others...

No one would likely understand the exhaustion he carries, the weight of knowing what he's done to complete strangers who had no idea what was about to descend upon them. It's forever a low simmer in the back of his mind, a background noise to everything else.

Jon doesn't deserve people. He damned them all. So staying away and making himself difficult is a bit easier, his own sort of punishment since Martin was convinced it was the right thing to do.]

Yes. A shame, indeed.

[killtime]

[ There's something a bit rueful in her face. Something tired. ]

You're really not meant to agree so fucking readily, you know.

[ An audible exhale, then one hand lifts to brush wild hair back from her face. She almost seems a different person, talking like this — some of the sharpness in her expression eases, softening the natural severity in her profile. Her habitual wryness warms a little. ]

Look at us, sounding like a couple of goddamn misanthropes.