He hated paperwork. The totally unnecessary, arbitrary tasks that he'd done out in space for a few years (Just how much did the trade routes really need to be monitored by an actual Pilot? And blast it all, did they really expect him to find Teinar from space?) meant that he had a whole mountain of forms and figures to see to the moment he'd gotten back. While he'd tackled more than half of the boring paper trail since his return, there were still quite a few forms that still had to be tracked down, and most certainly would not appear on his desk without some serious effort on his part.
It really was stupid that he would have to fill out paperwork to get more paperwork. And so, Alden had decided to put a stop to it himself- go down to the offices, get all the damned paperwork at once, and get this done before he found himself bogged down in another three hundred pages or so for being late with his reports.
The steady, heavy footfalls echoed with each step, moving down the hall determinedly at first... but then growing hesitant and awkward after a time, eventually leaving him staring at three office doors. Most of his paperwork had been hand-delivered to him when he'd needed it, though he knew that these weren't going to be. And yet, he really didn't want to just bust into the wrong office. But at the same time, he justified, there was no way for him to know which one it was, anyway.
Time to play Russian Roulette with his honor.
Twisting one side of his black mustache for a second, Alden stared down the three doors, tapping his steel-toed boots for only a moment before he came to a decision--
<I can help, you know.>
His dragon, Jean had stepped into his mind again, tickling at his thoughts the way she always did. Trying to swat her away even though he knew it really wasn't going to work, he nevertheless did his best to get her away, anyway. He didn't need her help. It was just a matter of chance.
<You've got a 33% chance of success alone, but if you insist...>
Good. I like a little risk. Leave me alone, scaly bitch. His mental projection dripped with crassness that he didn't bother to hide from her. Even though she could dash him across the pavement at any time, she enjoyed when he was like this- it was like watching a kid throw a fit through soundproof glass. Even though she could hear him, it was still amusing to hear him act like this- she rarely got annoyed by mortal trifles, and this was no exception.
<Oh, that really hurt.> Jean sent a mental shrug, almost singing the words with all her sarcasm. <The secretary's name is Lamb. Be nice.>
Realizing that she knew what door he was going to kick anyway, he rolled his eyes and kicked in the door all the way to the right, having the utter nerve to strut in as if nothing was wrong even though he'd just caused...
<Transferring out 12,750 credits, my delightful little idiot.>
It was still worth it.
Approaching the brunette behind the counter, he sneered openly, his pearly whites shining out amiably even though his face looked like that of a wolf ready to swallow a small animal. What better to do with a cute little thing like this than rile her up a bit? Sure, he had no idea who she was, but if she was anything like the other female Pilots he'd met before, she oughta be a firecracker at heart.
"Hey, sweet cheeks. You've got somethin' of mine."
