|By : thePrincesJewel|
Category: Final Fantasy VII > General
Views: 73 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
|Disclaimer: I own nothing Final Fantasy except the merchandise I've bought, so they make money off me! I definitely don't make money off fanfic.|
Not rich in anything but the occasional bit of imagination. And even Square played borrowers, so pttttht!
c/p screws with my formatting. There may be annoying glitches.
“So, which of the Commanders would you take to bed?” Jewel rolled her eyes as the secretarial pool buzzed over their lunches, explaining in detail which one and why. One particular description made her scoff aloud.
“Well, which one of the Commanders would you take to bed, then?” was the prompt challenge.
“None of them.”
Outside in the hall, a set of footsteps suddenly ceased its hurried stride, and a head turned towards the doorway in disbelief.
“Oh, please, like we believe that!”
Jewel shrugged. “Why would I want to take any of them to bed? They don’t interest me enough.”
The listener’s jaw dropped as the women all proceeded to decry the speaker’s words. He drifted a bit closer when she began talking again. “Look, seriously, they don’t interest me enough. I’m not involved with any of their fanclubs, don’t follow their exploits in the tabloids, and barely pay attention to them outside what’s necessary for work, so why in bloody hell would I go all cavegirl-slut and drag them off to my lair to bed them?”
‘Cavegirl-slut?’ the listener mouthed, only to press his lips firmly together when: “Cavegirl-slut: think Scarlet in furs and hides, alright?” in response to the other women’s demands to know what she meant threatened to reveal him by making him convulse with laughter. He controlled the urge with difficulty.
“But wait, no, no, come on! I mean, just think about it a minute or two,” one of the women pleaded. “Seriously, now, if you were given the opportunity to take one of them to bed, which one would it be? Angeal?”
“Are you out of your everloving mind?” Jewel exploded. “That nitwit acts old enough to be my grandfather’s grandfather! Hardly appealing!” This time, the listener had to clap a hand over his mouth and another over his belly to help control the laughter that wanted to escape. It was a horrifically accurate description.
“Well, what about…” a slight, very breathy pause, “Sephiroth?”
“What about him?” made the listener’s jaw drop in shock again.
“Well, I mean, don’t you think he’s sexy?” the woman asked.
“Of course he’s sexy, you idiot. They’re all very pretty bits of eyecandy. Oh, the redhead, I suppose. They’re supposed to be fun. I’d rather take their Director to bed, and he,” there was a definite sneer in her tone as she continued, “is blond.”
“What’s wrong with blondes?” one of the others demanded.
“My absolute least favorite hair color. Red is my favorite. Why do you think I hang around with Reno so much?”
“Would you take him to bed?”
“What would be the point? I’d be bored within a few minutes.” Her listener nearly bit through his lower lip trying not to laugh at that one. Rustling from inside indicated someone was moving and he hastily began walking past the door, less than half his attention on the on-going conversation.
“Seriously wouldn’t bed – ow!” He reached out, catching the woman who had just crashed into him before she fell backwards. “Ow, damn! What the hell did I run into?” She had her eyes squinched shut and was rubbing at her nose. One eye cracked open and one finger reached out to poke him. “Seriously, why is there a belly button at what is basically eye-level? How tall are you?”
“Seven three,” he answered quietly as the women beyond went suddenly silent.
One hand snaked up, though she didn’t look up from contemplating his belly button with squinted eyes and hadn’t quit rubbing her nose. The woman got hold of his hair and pulled it over his shoulder and into her view. “Eh. Figures. Angeal’s built like a brick shithouse but running into you’s like running into a rock wall. And again I say ow. Also, your hair is lovely, little one, and you can let go of me now. I’ve got my balance back. Now scoot. You’re blocking my path to the ladies’ room.”
Sephiroth chuckled slightly as he released the woman and stepped aside. She wasted no time in heading directly to the restrooms. The memory of the overheard conversation and her utter lack of deference when speaking to him kept him entertained for the next several days.
“So, seriously, you wouldn’t take any of them to bed?” Sephiroth stopped walking abruptly and signaled for silence.
“Good gods, are you still bringing that up? No! What the hell would be the point?”
“Well, I guess I just don’t get it!”
“Okay. Let me explain it in very simple terms, then. Angeal acts old enough to be my grandfather’s grandfather, and I have no interest in bedding anyone that old. Genesis is a spoilt six year old, and I don’t fuck children. Got it?”
“What about Sephiroth?”
Three sets of ears strained for the answer, hearing frustrated noises. A careful peek around the corner garnered the view of the frustrated noises coming from a woman seated with her back to them, waving a fork rather threateningly at another. “Is there any particular reason we are having this asinine discussion while I am attempting to eat?” The woman took another bite of her meal.
“But what about him?”
More frustrated noises. “What about him?”
“Well, fine then! Which one would you date?”
“Date?” The older woman had another bite of her meal, chewing it thoughtfully as she looked up at one of the corners of the room.
“Wait, you didn’t even think before saying you wouldn’t sleep with any of them, and you’re actually thinking about which one you’d date?”
“Dating is an entirely different thing than fucking,” the older woman informed her interrogator calmly. “Dating is a maybe thing. I might date any of them.”
“Maybe. I have actually dated someone old enough to be my dad before, so I’d really rather not deal with Angeal. Seriously, the guy acts like… twelve times his age! Genesis…” A pause, apparently so the woman could get a bite of her meal. “Well, at least he likes theatre, but if it’s only that one show, that would get real boring real quick, because me? Not obsessed.”
Two sets of hands reached out automatically to restrain Genesis. He fended them off. “And Sephiroth?”
“He’s about as anti-social as I am. Don’t see that going well. Actually,” – The woman had another bite of her meal and looked at her companion. – “do they even date? I’m not talking those stupid publicity affairs. Have any of those three actually gone on a date? I don’t follow that shit, but you do. Have they?”
“Well, no, not that’s ever been mentioned by the fan clubs,” the younger woman answered after a moment. “Wait, you’re actually saying you wouldn’t date any of them, aren’t you?”
A snort of derision and the scrape of a chair were her only answers. The three men exchanged looks tinted with confusion, tinged with the thrill of challenge, and laced with caution. The first woman’s voice grew closer. “I already said I might date any of them. I’m just pointing out,” – she exited the door, still looking over her shoulder to speak to her companion, and ran into Genesis. The redhead steadied her as she grasped at his coat. She sent one annoyed look at him, shot an almost amused glance at the three of them, and finished her sentence. – “how terrifying unlikely such a thing is. And you, sir, are once again blocking my direct access to the room of utmost importance.”
Sephiroth inclined his head. “You have my apologies.” A breathless, frightened squeak came from inside the room the woman had just exited.
“I’d rather have you scooting out of the way, once pretty here lets go of me so I can get to where I was going.”
“You are still hanging on to him,” Sephiroth pointed out mildly.
“Huh. I am, aren’t I? Sorry, kiddo.” Jewel released her grip as Genesis gaped at her. “Now, leggo of me.”
“Kiddo?” the auburn-haired beauty demanded.
“You are male and younger than me. Kiddo applies.” She flicked his nose lightly. “Let me go. Need the restroom.”
He released her. All three stepped aside. As before, she headed directly to the restroom. Genesis stared after her, then looked up at Sephiroth and demanded, “Who was that?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Sephiroth replied with an amused curl of his lips that turned predatory as he looked at the paling younger woman at the door through which she had come, “but I am sure her companion could tell you.”
Angeal darted forward, catching the woman who had just stepped on a pen that rolled under her foot and put her precarious balance at risk. He even managed to save the files she carried from falling and scattering. “Are you hurt?”
“Only what passes for my pride,” she answered sourly. “Thanks. What did I trip on?”
Angeal knelt and came up with the pen, proffering it silently. She took it from him, tested it to see if it worked, and tucked it into her pocket. “The Shin-Ra charity dinner at the end of the month,” he said awkwardly, “would you accompany me?”
“Do I have to dress up?”
“You’re buying the dress-up clothes, then, preferably the day of so I don’t forget where I put the silly things.”
“Yes, of course. Might I have your number so I can call you later to arrange that?” She gave it to him and went about her business.
He called her that night. “About the clothes, do you have a preferred designer?”
“Clothes? Designer? Who is this?”
“SOLDIER First Class, Angeal Hewley,” he answered. “I apologize: I was calling for Jewel.”
“Ang – Oh! Right, forgot about that. Charity thing at the end of the month. Where’s my calendar? I need to write that down. What day is it, exactly?”
“It is literally the last day of the month,” Angeal replied, a bit stunned that she had forgotten they were to attend already, “and begins at seven in the evening. However, it will take longer than a few hours to have a dress readied for you, according to those I spoke with –“
She cut him off. “I am not wearing a designer dress. Something off the rack from the mall will work just fine. Ah! My supper! Gotta go, bye!”
Angeal pulled his PHS from his ear and regarded it like it was an alien life-form, which was how Genesis found him a moment later. “Something wrong with your phone?”
“My companion for the charity dinner just informed me that something off the rack from the mall would be preferable to a designer gown.”
Genesis stopped moving and cocked his head to one side. “Well, that’s unusual. Who did you invite?”
“Someone who wouldn’t consider it a date,” Angeal replied as he slipped his phone back into its case. “That woman we overheard.”
“That…” Genesis paused, transfixed. “You asked the woman who described you as acting like her grandfather’s grandfather, at least twelve times your age, to go to the Shin-Ra charity dinner?” he gasped out through a peal of very unmanly giggles.
“She said yes,” Angeal pointed out, “and there won’t be any issues with her trying to convince me to bed her after, or expectations of more than simply attending a political function. It isn’t as if I am hoping to pursue a relationship with her. Besides, she probably is old enough to be a contemporary of our mothers.”
Genesis didn’t stop giggling. He did start plotting, and two days later tracked down the intriguing woman with a number of dress options in hand. “Hello, my dear, lovely seeing you again. Now tell me your opinion of these dresses, will you?” he said breezily as he seated himself beside her and fanned the pictures out around the pieces of her meal.
“Why, so I have a better idea of which designer to approach, of course. This is the Shin-Ra charity dinner we are discussing, after all, complete with paparazzi and political intrigue, not a proper date at a quiet restaurant. Something off the rack would cause a great deal more speculation and problematic aftereffects for my dear friend than a properly designed gown.”
“Ah. In that case,” she plucked several of the photos up, “forget the slut suits. I despise anything that isn’t at least ankle length – take those out yourself, I’m trying to eat – and abhor long sleeves.”
Genesis obediently sorted out the short skirts and long sleeves. “Nothing backless, either. No support to those ridiculous things, and I am endowed with that which requires support.”
“Indeed you are, my dear. Let me see… these three and that one. I suppose these, with the belly button v-necks would also be very unsupportive.” She nodded; he removed them, leaving only four. Genesis regarded the four and then the woman, who he decided was not quite old enough to stand as contemporary to his mother – and definitely not to Angeal’s, and removed two of the others. A quick glance earned him an approving nod. “Well, that makes it much easier. These are both by the same designer. I’ll make arrangements for some fittings – Ah! What kind of schedule must we work around? Obviously your work schedule…?”
She rolled her eyes. “I get off at five here, go home, and make supper for the kids. We eat around 7:30 when they get back from their practices and are cleaned up. Given they’re both teenagers, they can fend for themselves if they need to, so it doesn’t matter as long as I don’t get hauled out of work.”
Genesis nodded and collected the last two pictures. “I’ll just need your number so I can text you the fitting schedule,” he prompted. She snorted and scratched it out, with her left hand as her right was busily ferrying a chocolate chip cookie to her mouth, on a napkin. Genesis collected it as well and hopped to his feet. “Thank you, my dear, and don’t worry. I will arrange everything!”
The redhead paused a moment longer and the woman looked up at him with a vaguely annoyed curiosity. He gave into impulse and swooped down to press a quick kiss to her forehead. “Have a lovely rest of the day!” He sashayed out the door, rather pleased with himself, and grew more pleased at the sharp bark of laughter and the “Spoiled little brat,” she said in a fond tone.
He made short work of calling the designer and explaining the need for Angeal’s date to have a dress, and gave what particulars he could of the woman’s tastes and sizes as well as his opinion of colors that would suit her best so the poor man could have a few samples whipped up as possibilities. They worked out a fitting schedule between them, and Genesis texted it to the woman – Jewel, her name was – once they had it finalized.
The redhead remained quite pleased with himself until he remembered that he still needed a date to the dratted event.
Sephiroth was not particularly happy with the companion the company had chosen for him. She simpered and clung to him, and more than once had jogged his arm just in time to prevent him from being able to take a bite of the wholly inadequate meal served. Genesis appeared no happier with his companion, though Angeal appeared to be content with the woman seated by his side.
The silver-haired warrior made a mental note to ensure he snagged that particular female to be his companion at the next event, even if it did mean he would have to buy her an appropriate dress. The one she wore was certainly more suitable in terms of clothing than the scraps of cloth sported by the women he, Genesis, and the Director had as companions. She also did not have an artificial tinkling noise for a laugh, he thought, grimacing as his companion let loose with another stream of painfully fake giggles in response to a very bland sentence from the auburn-haired SOLDIER.
The two shared a commiserating look, one he realized Angeal’s companion had caught. “Bad day, kiddo?”
“It has been the worst!” Genesis informed her theatrically. “But do tell, what is your nickname for our dear Angeal?”
Angeal’s broad shoulders promptly tensed. “Grandpa, of course, unless he decides he’s gonna act like he’s not a couple thousand times my age.”
Sephiroth smirked. “What about Sephiroth?” Genesis pressed. The smirk morphed into a cold glare that pinned the fiery redhead.
“Haven’t quite decided for him, actually, though my nose continues to inform me that Ab Slab should be appropriate.”
“Ab Slab?” the redhead repeated with an amused grin. “Whatever for?”
“Because my first introduction to him involved running nose-first into his belly-button when I went around a corner, and my nose still hurts when I remember that,” she informed him frankly. “The other option is ‘he-who-is-ridiculously-tall’, but that takes too long to say.”
“What, not ‘he-who-has-a-ridiculously-long-sword’?” Genesis teased.
“That’d take even longer to say. Cranky Pants might work, though, given his current expression.” Sephiroth switched his glare to her. “Or perhaps the ever popular Ice Prince. Seems there’s got to be one of those in every… eh, what word do I want here? Story just doesn’t seem right. And don’t bother giving me that look: I’m immune and will flip a spoonful of gelatin at you if you keep it up. Then again, a food fight might improve this boring thing. Are they always this bad?”
“Yes,” Angeal told her. “Some of them are worse, particularly ones where there are more speakers.”
“You poor things. And you’re usually stuck with little yappy dogs?” Her eyes flicked to the other women at their table, none of whom appeared to notice, hanging onto the men as they were.
“Unfortunately, yes,” Sephiroth answered, “but our appearances at these functions are mandatory unless we are on assignment. Lazard is …” He shot a glare at the blond man also seated at the table.
“Real good about making sure there aren’t any available are you, Director Meanie?”
The blond laughed lightly, a much more relaxed, open, and real sound than the high-pitched titter of his companion. “If I must suffer, at least I can arrange to have company I enjoy,” he answered.
“Oh, so these three are your dates, and we’re just window-dressing?” she teased.
“Something like that,” he agreed easily. “I had to sit with Heidegger, Scarlet, and Palmer at the last function these three missed.”
Jewel looked confused for a moment. “Oh! Bwa-ha-ha, Gwa-ha-ha, and Mr. Munchies!” she exclaimed after a moment, reducing Genesis to a giggling pile of mush. Sephiroth actually found himself grinning, and Angeal had a broad smile. Lazard was in as bad of shape as Genesis, doubled up so much his hair was in danger of his soup.
“Entertaining the masses again?” a cold voice asked.
“Only if by masses you are referring to ego and general size,” the woman replied promptly, twisting in her seat to regard the cold-eyed blond who had stopped behind her. “How’s my favorite baby Turk and tagalong?”
“I am not a baby Turk, and Tseng is not a tagalong,” Rufus Shin-Ra said frostily. “What are you doing here?”
“Eating what is supposedly a gourmet meal – incidentally, Angeal, I hope there will be pizza or something suitably filling when this thing is over – and providing a filled chair at this table. What does it look like I’m doing?”
“I heard someone from the secretarial pool was coming as Angeal’s date. I wasn’t expecting you.”
“’course you weren’t, baby. I despise these things. The company’s been pleasant, though, and I get to keep the dress, so I suppose that makes up for the mind-numbingly boring speech and the bland and horribly insufficient food.”
“Does this mean you will be attending more of these events, Miss de la Prince?” Tseng asked, eyes flickering to Angeal.
“I can be bribed,” she replied calmly.
“Oh? What bribe will be sufficient to have you attend as my date for the next?” Sephiroth heard himself say. Genesis promptly gave him a tragic look.
“Apparently an outfit suitable for the occasion and a proper meal afterwards, and yes, kiddo, I will go with you to the one after for the same, and after that, well, you’ll have to come up with something more enticing. These things are terrifyingly boring and the food is awful.”
“Am I not included?” Lazard asked, half-teasing, garnering himself a slew of startled looks.
“You have to provide chocolate, too,” Jewel decided after a moment. She looked at the white-gloved hand on her shoulder, followed it up to look at Rufus, sighed, and said, “Chocolates and the next day off, paid, Vice-Brat.”
“What would Tseng have to get for you?” Rufus purred, eyes narrowed in irritation.
“Implying that he will get the fifth occasion from now off to take me, bratling?” Rufus nodded. “Oh, chocolate and real flowers on top of a new outfit and a proper meal afterwards, how’s that sound, Tseng?”
“Acceptable,” the Turk replied calmly. “Rufus, your father is looking for you.”
“Excuse us,” Rufus said, finally releasing Jewel’s shoulder.
“You seem to be on familiar terms with the Vice-President,” Sephiroth hazarded when he deemed the boy out of earshot.
“I’ve had to fill in for his secretary a couple times,” she replied with a shrug. “They called me in on my day off the first time and I told them if they were gonna insist I come in when I was supposed to have my one day off a week, I was wearing what I wanted. Apparently finding a replacement for her was pretty damned impossible, because they told me that was fine. I showed up in my pj’s with a bathrobe belted over them, fuzzy bedroom slippers, my hair wrapped in a towel, with no makeup.”
“Oh, gods, you didn’t!” Sephiroth’s date breathed, eyes wide.
“I most certainly did! Was my day off! That brat called me to get him coffee. His coffeepot’s three feet from his desk. He got his own coffee the rest of the day. I’m pretty sure he’s gotten used to a cranky mother giving him hell for being an ass by now, since I am now the company’s favorite replacement for his regular secretary.” She smirked. “They haven’t tried to get me to come in on a scheduled day off since the time the President’s regular secretary called in sick and I had to fill in for her.”
Lazard’s date leaned forward, eyes shining. “How did you manage that?”
“Terrified him, I think,” Jewel replied after some thought. “I was supposed to go to a Halloween party, so I showed up in my costume and stayed in character until he sent me home at lunch with the assurance that I would never be called in on my days off again.”
“What costume?” Genesis breathed.
Jewel snorted. “A female dominatrix version of Professor Hojo. I couldn’t think of anything that might be scarier.”
Every single male at the table shuddered in unadulterated horror. “Oh! I remember that! You won for scariest costume!” Genesis’ date exclaimed. “But who was the man on the leash?”
“I’ll give you three guesses, first two don’t count,” Jewel answered.
Genesis sucked in a startled breath. “Never say…”
“The President really, really wanted to make sure I left happy and was delighted to loan me the ultimate accessory. He avoids me like the plague now.”
“The president?” Lazard asked.
“Hojo.” Genesis went off into another peal of giggles. Sephiroth decided to see how often he could get the woman to substitute for the entirely inadequate one he had been provided. Better yet, perhaps he could get her as his permanent secretary. If she was capable of being a proper secretary, of course. The silver-haired warrior frowned. It was entirely possible that she was just as inefficient and incompetent as the majority of the rest of the secretarial pool.
“I do believe I’m quite grateful I have never had you as a substitute on one of your scheduled days off,” Lazard remarked.
“Given that I have decided that I actually like you, I will permit it once, and it needs to be an emergency,” she informed him. “The gods won’t be able to help you if it’s a day I’ve requested off, though.”
“Oh! OH!” Sephiroth’s companion suddenly squealed. “You’re her, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m definitely me. And let go of that poor boy: he needs his arm to finish this sorry excuse for a meal. Do the higher ups really not understand about SOLDIER metabolism, Director?”
“But you are!” The overly excited female did, thankfully, release his arm. Sephiroth hastily, though neatly, began bolting his now-cold meal, though he did slant a curious look at the woman with Angeal. She disregarded it as her attention was on the Director. Sephiroth turned his attention to the man as well.
“Catered dinners like this don’t take any dietary issues into account,” Lazard answered. “I’m curious, though, Miss Ramsley, who is it you are saying Miss de la Prince is?”
“She’s the one who said she’d rather take you to bed than one of the Commanders even though she doesn’t like blonds!”
Genesis choked on his wine, Angeal’s fork froze, and Lazard dropped his soup spoon. Sephiroth ate the last bite of the portion of the meal that was allowed by his exceedingly strict diet and looked mournfully at what was left: the majority of what had been provided. With any luck, he would have time and energy enough to fix a meal for himself when he finally made it back to his quarters. More likely, he would be so tired that he would be able to do little more than unwrap one of the ration bars that didn’t turn his stomach too badly and force it down before he collapsed. He wondered absently if he would make it to his bed this time, or perhaps a chair or his couch. Any of the three would be preferable to waking on the floor, still fully dressed, as had happened too many times already.
There were at least four more speeches to go before the end of the charity dinner, the usual exhortations for donations. As if the cost of the meal wasn’t bad enough! He’d been forced to pay 700 gil for himself and his company-supplied companion for a meal he couldn’t eat at an event he would have avoided if he had not been ordered to attend, and he would be expected to donate at least another thousand simply because he was one of the best known Commanders.
Sephiroth put his silverware down with a little sigh, and looked up to find the attention of the others focused on him. He let one brow creep up.
“They’re confused by your non-reaction, darling,” Jewel told him.
“To my preference for Lazard despite his unfortunate blondness.”
“Oh, that,” he said dismissively. “I see no reason why your preference to bed another should offend me.”
“Very sensible of you,” she remarked, frowning slightly. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were a good deal older than you are. I suppose your circumstances had a very maturing effect. Affect? I never am quite sure, since an affect tends to have an effect. Oh! No, if I remember it that way, I might mess them up less often! But anyway, still a very sensible outlook.”
“Thank you,” he returned, mildly confused. She would think him older if she didn’t know better? His gaze sharpened. Was it possible that she meant she knew his true age? “I don’t suppose you have ever worked with my parents?”
“He who claims to be your sperm donor is a real piece of work, and I do not like him one bit. Your mother was a bit of a twat when she got involved in a project, but was otherwise okay.”
“He who…” Sephiroth repeated.
“Well, your mom did have a bit of an affair back then,” Jewel said with a shrug, “and you don’t look like the guy I don’t like. Or act like him, either, come to think of it. I’m going to lean heavily in favor of the other guy, particularly since you look a lot more like a blend of him and Lucy.”
“Lucy?” He shot a slightly uncertain look at his only friends.
“Oh, I suppose the perma-twat supposed sperm donor left her out of the equation. He was quick enough to dump her after you were born, after all.” Jewel scowled. “Dumped, but didn’t divorce.”
Sephiroth took this news with nothing more than a startled blink. Genesis and Angeal exchanged alarmed looks. Lazard, however, frowned. “That is not a particularly suitable topic for the dinner table.”
“And my preferences for bed partners is?” Jewel demanded irritably.
“Er, no, of course not!”
“Then you really should have spoke up instead of preening like a peacock or tormenting little Gennie,” she informed him, “and you must now provide at least five pounds of chocolate that do not involve any fruit or coconut.” She turned her attention back to Sephiroth. “But, yeah, I worked with them back around when you were born, and I worked with the moron a few times before he had sense enough to tell the pool never to send me again. I ensured I made his life miserable, you see.”
“Oh, do tell,” Genesis invited.
“Oh, simple stuff, really. I actually filed his paperwork properly, and redid the accounts correctly when the numbers I was told to put in didn’t add up anything close to right, and then filed them with the appropriate people. Oh, right, I mixed ground laxatives into every can of coffee and several of the creamers after his entire department pissed me off.”
Sephiroth merely blinked again, deciding this particular woman was not one he cared to cross. Her retribution was something he did not care to have directed at himself, particularly the laxative-laced coffee.
“How does doing your job correctly get you banned from a department?” Lazard asked in bafflement. “You’ve always done an excellent job for me.”
Yes, he would definitely see about getting his secretary replaced with this woman.
“He’d either been embezzling, or had a number of projects that were not properly annotated,” she replied with a shrug. “I sent copies to the Turks, Accounting, the VP, and the Prez. As for filing the paperwork properly, well…” she shrugged. “Apparently that just isn’t done in that department.”
“Isn’t done?” Sephiroth’s companion tittered. “Every department files their stuff.”
“Unfortunately, I’m serious. There was stuff older than Genesis that hadn’t been filed yet. They got the laxatives after I’d been sorting and putting those stupid things away for two weeks and got told that, ah… what was it exactly? Oh yes, ‘inferior females unable to handle the rigors of a full-time permanent position are most certainly not qualified to handle the workload of the science department, and should instead ensure the department staff has a sufficient amount of coffee and sandwiches.”
“What did you do to the sandwiches?” Lazard’s companion asked.
“I used what was in the refrigerator for ingredients. Made the mystery meat in the infantry cafeteria look downright normal in comparison.”
“How long were you there?” Angeal asked after a long moment.
“Two months. The first month I was substituting for the secretary who did their books, and the second for the one who didn’t bother to do their filing. The last two weeks of the second month, I did exactly what they said: made and delivered their coffee and sandwiches. That’s when the guy in charge realized what refrigerator I was using to make the sandwiches, and about had an aneurism. Apparently, they kept scientific samples in it, unlabeled.”
“Good gods,” Angeal breathed.
“So, permanently banned from the Science Department!” Jewel finished cheerfully.
“How are you not on Hojo’s shit-list?” Genesis demanded in astonishment.
“Oh, I’m on it. He’s just scared of me.”
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