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epistemological[ He should be more responsible.
He should, really, he should because now he's a supervisor, now he's the head of a whole bloody department. Head of the Archives, Jesus Christ, not four years into this place and he's head of the bloody archives, which is a dungeon, really, the pits, to be honest, but it'll be his pits soon enough. Him and Sasha and Tim and-
Well, Martin but there has to be a bit of a raincloud for there to be a silver lining, after all. He's handled worse. He's certainly handled worse.
Sasha kicked them out, because she saw the look in their eyes, the look that said they were going to be pulling out the bottle of scotch, the good one and she knows better than to get between them when the scotch comes out. Certainly better than to let them be in her apartment while they're drunk and silly. She'd seen them out, laughing at the two of them, ruffling their hair and lamenting that it would be the last time she could ruffle Jon's, obviously, since he was going to be the 'boss' now. Jesus Chris, the 'boss'. Their boss. What kind of lunatic made him a boss of anything?
Elias Bouchard, apparently. Clearly, an absolute gem.
And the thing is that Sasha, of all of them, lives closest. Closes to the Institute, that is. And Jon's got the key now, he's got the keys to the building and to the Archives themselves and it's a fucking genius idea to head down there and get a proper look before he's actually on the clock.
Besides, he'd rather not be out and about if they're going to keep drinking. Bad form, that, even if Tim's convinced it's a great way to meet 'cute' police officers. Jon's never met a 'cute' police officer in his life and he doubts he's going to now so he shuffles in front of the door, the little side one that he has the key for and hopes his keys aren't too loud. ]
He should, really, he should because now he's a supervisor, now he's the head of a whole bloody department. Head of the Archives, Jesus Christ, not four years into this place and he's head of the bloody archives, which is a dungeon, really, the pits, to be honest, but it'll be his pits soon enough. Him and Sasha and Tim and-
Well, Martin but there has to be a bit of a raincloud for there to be a silver lining, after all. He's handled worse. He's certainly handled worse.
Sasha kicked them out, because she saw the look in their eyes, the look that said they were going to be pulling out the bottle of scotch, the good one and she knows better than to get between them when the scotch comes out. Certainly better than to let them be in her apartment while they're drunk and silly. She'd seen them out, laughing at the two of them, ruffling their hair and lamenting that it would be the last time she could ruffle Jon's, obviously, since he was going to be the 'boss' now. Jesus Chris, the 'boss'. Their boss. What kind of lunatic made him a boss of anything?
Elias Bouchard, apparently. Clearly, an absolute gem.
And the thing is that Sasha, of all of them, lives closest. Closes to the Institute, that is. And Jon's got the key now, he's got the keys to the building and to the Archives themselves and it's a fucking genius idea to head down there and get a proper look before he's actually on the clock.
Besides, he'd rather not be out and about if they're going to keep drinking. Bad form, that, even if Tim's convinced it's a great way to meet 'cute' police officers. Jon's never met a 'cute' police officer in his life and he doubts he's going to now so he shuffles in front of the door, the little side one that he has the key for and hopes his keys aren't too loud. ]
