PHD #057: The P Stands For Paperwork
The P Stands for Paperwork
Summary: The CMC: killing trees with their paperwork since 20XX BE.
Date: 24 Apr 2041 AE
Related Logs: None
Players:
Madilyn King Lunair 
Marine Offices - Deck 6 - Battlestar Cerberus
This offices consists of desks for those under the CO, along with his desk toward the back of the room. The S1 and S2 have desks here and the place is neat as a pin, with everything in its place. At the front of the room, a Marine sits at a desk to meet people as they come in through the hatch.
Post-Holocaust Day: #57

Sitting at a desk, Madilyn has several stacks of neatly bound and labeled folders before her; some in a tray marked TODO, others in a tray marked DONE, some in a tray marked ONGOING. Like everything else in the offices, they have their place. A cup of coffee sits steaming lightly as she reviews duty rosters, for one area of the ship in particular. Music from her private music player sounds quietly as she works, loudly enough to be heard in the vicinity of her desk and nearby, but not so loud as to be obtrusive to the other marine officers working toward the front of the room.

It's the start of one of those days. Well…a relative day, considering space. Staff Sergeant King shuffles his way through the bulkhead, looking exhausted. It's not the usual look for him, but between training a new marine and all of his other duties, things have been stacking up. He strides to his desk without the usual 'GetTheFrakOuttaMyWay' pace he usually has and settles down to start on some paperwork of his own. A polite "'Lo, sir." is issued as he sits.

King's entry doesn't go unnoticed, of course. "Evening, Staff Sergeant," Madilyn says to King with a bit of a nod. "Have some coffee, and at least look like you want to be here. Unless you want us to think the recruits are getting the best of you?" Her pen is set down on the current stack of papers, sans signature, as she watches him a moment.

Not un-used to women watching him a moment or two longer than necessary, SSgt King looks up from his desk and over to the CO. With one eyebrow quirked he says, "Sir, do you really think some recruits are going to /ever/ get the best of me?" His silk and velvet voice drifts from his throat sounding calm and confident, no matter the expression on his face. "Just having a few long nights lately, you know?"

Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump. Pause. Thumpthumpthumpthump. Pause. What in the world could that be? "Latelatelate, I'm not late." Flail. Lunair is running at full tilt, hair damp and fresh out of the head. Heff. Hff. Hff. "And they're guarding-" She's got her postits in hand too. Sadly, she's distracted, barreling down the hall and someone opens the door to the offices. It's a brief, glorious Matrixy explosion of postits, JiG and door. At least she lands inside the office. She moves fast, when not facefirst on the ground.

"If that's the case, Sergeant, perhaps we need to get you more recruits…" Madilyn muses idly. "As for late nights, you're not the only one. In fact…" she says, rising to look over her desk at the heap of yellow note slips and sprawled out officer. "…it would seem Lieutenant Lunair had a late night herself. So nice of you to join us. You're late…" she says, with no real rancor in her voice. It happens from time-to-time, and no sense in writing the girl up for 3 minutes…this time.

King sighs and shakes his head at his Platoon Leader, the officer directly over him. The one he has to report to. "Sir, you dropped about 45 postit notes on your way in." He shakes his head again, still seeming kind of exasperated. "Maybe even 50."

Groan. Flop. Lunair just goes limp on the floor. "Drats. Almost…" So close and yet so far. Sigh. And right in front of the CO too. Twitch. "Thanks. I'm glad I have a stunning, wonderful NCO like you around." Her tone is both dry and pained. She eventually picks herself up, gathers the notes. She takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry, sirs." She looks a bit sad now. Even with the rugburn on her front side. Ow. "Um. Should I-" She looks over her shoulder, "Should I go?" She's not interrupting anything?

"Are you supposed to be here Ell-Tee? Or is this a friendly visit? If you're supposed to be here, get to your desk and get some frakkin' work done. If not, don't disrupt those of us who are here to work." With a slight shake of her head, Madilyn sets back down at her desk, and slides one file out of the way to check the duty roster for the current week. It's held down under a sheet of plastic on the desk's surface. Double-checking Lunair's eventual answer, of course.

King doesn't even say a word. He's sitting at his desk, Madilyn is sitting at hers. What could Lunair be interrupting? And on top of that, she said 'sirs'. He rolls his eyes, making it very clear he's thinking of Lunair like an overpaid private right now.

Lots of things really. Lunair's not ill-mannered. She at least, keeps good bearing doing her best not to roll her eyes back at King. Deep breath. "Working, sir. But it's always nice to see you both. Did you get the report on …" She is trying to phrase it properly. "I'll be at my desk, sir," She gives up after a moment looking defeated. It's not her day. A heavy sigh. "I'll make more coffee if you need as well," She offers. With that, she begins to shuffle to her desk. Her expression is mercifully calm and regal. Or trying at least. Rugburn has turned most of her front arms pink. Yikes.

"Yes, I got the report. It's being taken care of." To show that that's the case, Madilyn reaches to one of the levels of the multi-tiered plastic trays on the desk, the one marked ONGOING, and pulls out a suspiciously red colored folder. "This one, Lieutenant?" she asks Lunair, waving it about gently. It can be seen that on the front of the folder are several lines of handwritten text: dates and notes made by Madilyn. If she's one thing, it's neat.

Nod. Lunair seems relieved as it's gotten. "Yes sir," She murmurs. The red makes her uneasy, but then a lot of paperwork does. Surprising given her proclivity for postits. She stifles a smile. Lunair is competent, dutiful and brave - if bumbling and unlucky. She nods in response. She looks to be at a loss, before settling at a desk nearby. She's grateful for the mercy at least. She opens her mouth, closes it. What to say. She just gives up and starts picking at the work ahead of her. "Thank you." She looks shocked for a moment.

"Take five minutes and get your head screwed on straight before you attempt to do any paper, Lieutenant. That's an order." Besides…Madilyn gets up and walks calmly to the entrance, picking up one or two of those little yellow notes that maybe weren't visible from where Lunair was looking, but that she saw. On her way back to her desk, she drops them on Lunair's desk, and comments, wryly, "Next yime, set your alarm 10 minutes early, and you don't have to worry about being punished." Sounds like something she would've said to her daughter, almost exactly, in fact.

Sigh. Lunair takes a deep breath. Right. "Thank you sir." And ack! Her notes! Lunair looks mortified briefly. Does Madilyn KNOW about her terrible short term memory? She nods at the alarm idea. "Good idea," She adds quietly. She gathers herself, although it seems like there might be more rumpling behind the scenes. "Do you need me to make coffee or anything before I get settled in? I think it's my turn this week," She furrows her brows and hunts for that note. It's crippling at times, even if she means well. She is nothing, if grateful. At least she's acting more professional now.

Settling back into her seat, Madilyn points at the coffee maker and clicks her tongue inside her mouth. "Seems though someone already beat you to it, Lieutenant." Judging by the less-tarry and more coffee-like appearance, it was the CO herself; she tends to prefer her coffee a little more like liquid and a little less like an anhydrous goop of caffeine.

D'oh. Two strikes. She tries not to sink into her desk. But if Lunair could? She'd melt into her chair and disappears. She nods meekly. "I see. I'll keep an eye out on it then," She promises and settles in to work. She's grateful for the CO's presence, even if it's worrying at the same time. She's genuinely at a loss and it boggles her. So Lunair settles for taking a deep breath. Crap. She just sticks a piece of paper on top of another paper. Darnit. Words. She needs some words. "Ah." Shoot.

From her desk, Madilyn gets back to scribbling through paperwork. There's little sound in the office save the normal stuff, with that little bit of music, the scritching of pens on paper, and on and on. Yes, this is the boring side of the CMC, the stuff that's not shooting and dying. Really, any of that stuff just makes for ten-times as much of this stuff.

And so Lunair herself quietly sets to work. She seems much more professional when not spazzing and flailing out.

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