[ It’s the day after Martin had experienced temporary insanity in the form of asking his boss out on a date, but Jon might have also been on one himself as he actually agreed. It would have been even more insane to actually go on a date the same day. Not with them 'parting ways' after 4 AM. They’d set a time for mid-afternoon for the next, and Martin finds himself early. It’s been a while since he felt the complex pull of a caffeine overdose and complete exhaustion, so he had made himself a secluded space toward the back with his favorite overstuffed chair, a book set open in his lap where he'd rested an ankle on his knee. Still, his eyes aren't taking in anything.
If it weren’t for the constant shaking of his foot, he would only look mildly nervous. He texted Jon a few minutes ago to let him know where he was in the back and his stomach is a terrible, fluttering knot of anxiety. There's an empty chair with Jon's name on it though; the shop having arranged it for conversation. They hadn't anticipated the lewd activity of handholding, clearly. ]
[ Jon is miraculously on time, despite surviving a disaster with having to take his contacts straight back out of his sleep deprived eyes and deal with wearing his glasses instead and a crisis in front of the wardrobe realising he only owns work clothes and pyjamas these days.
Having to deal with public transport didn’t help either but he makes it precisely when he’s expected, complete with a beaten up copy of one of his favourite books tucked safely into his bag that he’s intending to loan to Martin.
Jon finds him exactly where he said he’d be, in the back in a chair. And it’s fine, really, it’s going to be nice and it’s absolutely not going to backfire on them professionally. The only real tell that Jon is nervous is how tightly he’s holding the strap of his bag, anything else could easily be chalked up to his usual uptight demeanour.
He drops himself into the free chair, rests his bag on his lap and taps his fingers unthinkingly on the worn leather. ]
Sorry, I’m… Well, not late, but I had planned on being early.
[ Five minutes early is on time, on time is late. really only applies to work. Or should only apply to work. ]
[ He’ll have to borrow Martin’s jumpers made out of boyfriend material, next time. Assuming there will be a next time. That this isn't a totally devastating mistake …which is an easy concern to spiral on, until he sees Jon approaching and his foot stops bouncing. A cautious smile lights up his face, which warms with the tentative excuses for being on time. ]
I’m just happy you made it… [ Said like a guy that can’t believe his dumb good luck. ] I er… intentionally left earlier than a sane person would, so I couldn’t talk myself out of believing you’d want to be stuck here.
[ He has to force himself to take a deep breath before he continues to spit out every insecure thought he has – it’d be an awful conversation for a first date. They at least didn’t need all the small talk, working with each other and all. ]
Didn’t sleep much, anyway. [ He grins, self-deprecation evident in his tone; but he remembers to reach for his own bag for the thermos. ] Tea? [ Yes, he’s noticed Jon’s poor abused bag. ]
[ Jon tried to leave earlier than he needed, until he got stymied by indecision. He would say that, probably, but he gets caught on the slip of self-deprecation. Look, listen, he knows that even if he didn’t directly cause it he certainly Did Not Help by being abrasive. It wasn’t even Martins fault that he got an un-asked for team member, that was down to Elias but he’s self-aware enough to know it wasn’t his best move to be mean to Martin about it. ] I’m not stuck here, Martin. I wouldn’t have agreed to come if I didn’t want to. [ Jon makes sure to say it softly, so it doesn’t sound like he’s being dismissive. ]
Tea would be lovely, I don’t think sleeping was on the cards for either of us this weekend. [ At least he got some reading time in. Even if he hated the book he’d picked up and it’s going straight to Oxfam once he’s finished. ]
I ah… Bought the book I was telling you about. You’ll have to excuse the tape on the spine, it’s rather old. [ Also! Leave his bag alone, it isn’t abused it’s just been with him since university because he takes care of his things (better than he does himself). The book he pulls out has also been with him since university, it has a neat “J. Sims” written on the inside of the cover and the spine has indeed been taped where it has started to peel. ]
[ Martin sincerely doesn’t know quite how to process Jon sounding so sincere. That isn’t a criticism; they wouldn’t have been texting at unholy hours if Jon was still antagonistic towards Martin’s existence. Admitting to lying on his CV had been a significant turning point in their working relationship. Their personal as well, obviously – but he still feels like he should pinch himself, just for good measure.
For his sake, he does not. He busies himself with pouring tea for them after giving Jon a shy grin. There’s a huffed “Alright, alright–I’ll relax”. Martin’s hand is surprisingly steady when he hands over a mug. Yes, he made it to Jon’s preference. ]
Oh, I knew I should have brought more but… that’s really sweet, Jon. [ and it doesn’t sound condescending. He takes a moment to get a good look at the man he cares so much about. How did he pull off the tired academic look so well? ] A lot of my favorites are old collections of poetry. [ There’s a moment where Jon can panic about Martin coming across the supplemental tapes, with the wry little grin Martin casts his way. ] I’m not sure if you’d be too partial toward them. So, you’ll just have to deal with my glowing company. [ But, he hasn’t. His eyes crinkle in amusement while he busies himself with a drink, and honestly – he isn’t so humble that he won’t enjoy his own skills in the tea department. He hums, reaching out an empty hand in Jon’s direction.
Is it for the book or his hand? Pop quiz. ]
I might’ve picked up The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo to busy myself while waiting. I think I’ll have to continue it when I’m not hyperventilating at the idea of being here. With you. [ Is he succeeding, anywhere, with being charming? If Jon isn’t death-gripping his bag, that’s a plus. ] It's a compliment. I promise!
[ Jon hasn’t had anyone say anything he’s done is sweet for… quite a long time actually, his eyebrow twitches as if he’s about to raise it and thinks better of doing so.
Poetry. Look he’s a massive snoop and he’s nosy and there was the whole panicked stalking thing, but once he realised it was just poetry he shut the tape off and put it back. Because he doesn’t listen to other people’s private tapes, Martin. Probably also shouldn’t have recorded his own mental breakdown but it’s done now and if Martin listened and really took it personally he wouldn’t be here. Unless the whole thing is a well played ruse to- Nope. He is absolutely not going to even think about it. ]
Poetry isn’t too bad, it’s never really been my thing but it has its merits. Some of the greatest stories humanity has to offer were told as poetry. [ He watches Martin sort drinks out like it’s genuinely really interesting, then takes the tea when it’s offered and gives Martin a hint of a smile. ] I studied a few at university. Largely Greek in origin. And thank you.
[ Jon very succinctly fails the pop quiz by staring at Martins offered hand for a moment longer than should reasonably be considered comfortable. He settles the internal bafflement about what Martin wants by placing his own next to it and hooking his pinkie over Martins. Is this what you wanted? is a little evident in the glance he gives. Well, this is certainly what he gets for asking a human disaster on a date. Jon might put a very competent show on at work but when it comes to making genuine human connection he tends to feel totally out of his depth. ]
I’ve never read it, what’s it about? [ The title probably gives it away but there has to be more than that. Murder mystery doesn’t seem like the type of book he’d expect Martin to choose, but you never know. ] If you can explain, past the hyperventilation, of course. [ He’s teasing, but he gets it, promise. ]
[ It was bad enough to have Tim sneak in and interrogate him over his workplace crush; Martin would simply cease to exist if either Tim or Jon had put two and two together with the poems being about Jon. He’ll probably have material for about a dozen after they part ways after the date – if they par-no, Martin, don’t get ahead of yourself.
Jon is a bit of an intense experience. The tenacity he approaches work is only mildly toned down outside of the office. His focus and curiosity directed toward Martin makes said man fight back the urge to squirm and blush as he recounts some of his uni days. Ultimately, he finds it endearing, putting in an honest effort to relate to his interests rather than write them off.
Martin only panics marginally when Jon stares at his hand, teeth digging into the meaty part of his cheek to hide the nervous apology for …what? Putting his hand out in shared space? They’re on a date, and this is absolutely silly… but then, they’re holding pinkies. Jon has no right to be this cute. Martin’s smile is both relieved and overwhelmingly fond. It’s a good start. ]
Oh. Well. [ He breaks Jon’s stare to fiddle with the book, brow furrowing as he tried to get his words about him. ] It’s more of a fictional memoir? This actress is getting older and wants to get her life story out there. [ He pauses, eyebrow raising skeptically. ] I haven’t gotten far into it, but I don’t think she uh. Lost them due to ‘mysterious causes’. Shame.
[ He likes mystery if there’s crimes of passion involved – because he’s a romantic. And a brat. His free hand goes to his chest and he turns in his seat a bit to face Jon better. ]
Does it look like I’m hyperventilating? Clearly, I’ve moved on to existential crisis. [ Which means that the careful way he advances their pinkies to join in unashamed palm-to-palm contact is very brave. His fingers fit nicely between Jon’s, and another twenty poems blossom in the back of his mind. ] …Is this alright?
Sorry, work ended an hour ago, boss. You would know that if you'd come out with us. Don't tell me you're still there talking into your little recorder. Are we going to have to start turning the lights out in your office before we leave? Or maybe throw a blanket over your head like a canary.
If you’re playing Shag, Marry, Kill at the pub I think I’d rather be here. And yes I am working late, I have paperwork to finish. Somebody has been late three times this week and Elias noticed so now I have to write them up. It wasn’t Sasha.
That won’t change that I have a mountain of work and a deadline. I wasn’t going to write him up at all, I’m being forced to.
[ He sends a photo of the paperwork with “disciplinary action: exception made, his mother was unwell” on it as proof. He’s not a heartless monster, Tim. He’s being forced into useless bureaucracy. ]
I thought the point of being a boss was being able to move deadlines.
[ Tim had been certain that "not Sasha" had actually been him, but it appears that coming in through the back door with a folder under his arm had worked for him after all. ]
Tell you what, Jon. Leave it on your desk and I'll deliver it to Elias first thing in the morning myself. That's got to save you, what, ten minutes? Enough for one drink.
[ Which means taking everyone’s shit from every direction. And a little bit of deleting people’s clocking information and replacing it as if they arrived on time. ]
Maybe if it’s not too late by the time I’m finishing actually filling the forms in.
I’m not dress coding Sasha for not wearing tights in 30 degree weather until he installs air conditioning and I hardly think the little sheep on Martins shirt infringe on his ability to do his job. Shan’t even bother wasting my breath telling you what to wear either.
[ He has grievances and none of them are to do with what his assistants are or are not wearing on the job. ]
Oh screw Elias I’ll take the slap on the wrist at the managers meeting. I’m sick of being in the oven.
Shan’t. And if you do I'll tell them I only said it because you’re unconcerned with how close they get to falling out and have the dress code citation to prove it.
And then HR will know that you're obsessed with my chest and fire you for the perv you are. You know I only unbutton them for you, boss. [ The fact that he's having this conversation with Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, at all has him more than a little heady. The previous drinks aren't hurting, either, but this is one for the history books. ]
Well, did you ask the wormer if they minded being recorded?
Oh, you mean the office orgy we have every Wednesday in the records closet? I could've sworn Sasha sent out a memo.
Shame. It would've been a memorable entry into the Archives. Perhaps bad dancing is a fear manifesting on the streets of London. I'll have to keep an eye out for more incidents.
[ Daisy might spend most of her time sitting around on the clock in the Archives these days, but that doesn't mean her skills of observation are any less sharp. She notes the tense set of Jonathan's shoulders when he gets in that morning and the way his jaw is set when he ventures out of his office to give out assignments. Later, she notices the way Martin digs through the bottom drawer of his desk to retrieve the good biscuits and then promptly goes to the break room to make a tea, only to walk through the office with it a moment later. He retreats from Jon's office quickly, with a handful of forms that he immediately gets to work filling out and a moment later the light in Jon's office goes dark.
The office falls back into comfortable silence as they all, focus on their individual tasks. Daisy tries to read one of the books that Basira said was interesting, but her eyes keep flicking up to the clock posted above Martin's desk. An hour creeps by and then another. Martin also glances at the clock, but makes no move to get up. Finally, at three o'clock when she knows David is on his way with the mail, Daisy gets up and stretches her back. She pops her neck before she moves down the hall to Jon's office door.
She knocks sharply twice before opening the door and slipping inside before Martin can tell her not to bother him. She flips on the lights, only to snort at the sight of Jonathan Sims lying down with a pillow over his face. She crosses the room and grabs his wrist, feeling for a pulse.] Oh good, you haven't succeeded in suffocating yourself. I didn't want to have to stay late for the paperwork on that one.
[ It’s all just a bit bullshit actually. You’d think that when you’ve been put in deliberate mortal peril a bit of late paperwork could be excused. But no, Jon has clearly done something to piss Elias off but instead of telling him what he’s done wrong Elias chose to drag him up to the office to tell him off about how many forms and other mundane managerial tasks he’s behind on.
Yes okay, Elias is right that he does owe his assistants the rota on time so they can plan their lives but honestly nobody has come to him about doctors appointments or anything else and when they do Jon does his level best to make sure their days off can be set on the dates they need and everyone knows when on the rota their full weekend will be so they can plan for the full year if they log on to the holiday calendar. Because unlike he’s been accused of he does actually respect and try to accommodate his assistants.
The rest of it? Well it’s not like he can actually fire anyone and if they are late to work they all make up for it within the week or by shaving time off their lunch breaks so late slips (and okay there are quite a few) aren’t the end of the world. Reviews are a month late because he got fucking kidnapped he wasn’t there for a month, and he was in America where Elias sent him when they were due.
Either way he took a huge stack of paperwork home and had a grand total of three hours sleep because he was trying to get through it. So when he got in he was tired and in a foul mood. Thank god for Martin telling him he’d take over as much as he could and to take a nap. Even if he’s actually just lay on the floor with a pillow on his face and considered screaming into it for what feels like hours. He honestly just ignores the door, until someone grabs his wrist and checking his pulse. ]
There’s still time. It could happen. [ He still sounds incredibly grumpy and doesn’t bother to remove his pillow. ]
Would you like some help? [ She drops his wrist and pushes down on the pillow playfully, bouncing off of it once before grabbing the pillow by the corner and yanking it off.] Christ, you look terrible. Did you even sleep or just sat here in the dark for two hours?
[ She drops the pillow and then lowers herself to sit on it in front of him. ] Alright, then. Let's hear it. What's going on?
If I say yes are you going to get all worried and demand I seek a therapist? [ If you can’t make dark jokes with somebody you dragged out of a coffin, who tried to kill you once who can you? It doesn’t matter, she pretends to help out and then tears his pillow away. ]
I lay on the floor with my eyes closed, does that count? [ It wasn’t for lack of trying but he’s not one of the weirdos he knows who can drink an entire caffeinated beverage and then take a nap and he’s had… a few today. ]
Well Elias sent me out of the country, and I nearly died again and yesterday he pulled me in to his office to tell me I’m going to get email reminders about all my management tasks that I’m behind on and that I need to get better about doing them on time and blah, blah, blah, self-important bullshit Elias speak. [ The stress and irritation permeates his tone. ] So I tried to get on top of it and then Elias found out everyone wasted an hour being silly yesterday… [ He can’t even bring himself to blame them, they can’t quit or be fired, they’re all hostages, why shouldn’t they? ] So apparently I’m too lenient and clearly nobody respects me. [ I mean they don’t but he’d rather that than they’d all continued to hate him instead. ] And I really, truly, can’t be fucking bothered with him and his shit.
Oh, God, no. Glass houses and all that. [ Honestly, Jon dragging her out of that coffin is the only reason she's trying right now. The old her probably would've thought putting him out of his misery was a kindness. ]
It does not. [ She says, shaking her head. Martin will be sorely disappointed that his nap time didn't work out. ]
Wow. [ She tries to bite back the amusement in her tone. It's not... well, it is funny, but the look on Jon's face isn't. He's clearly bothered by the fact that he's behind on emails and has no control over his staff. Which, compared to the off hand way he mentioned another brush with death, is mildly concerning.]
What a dick. [ It's more than clear that this is one the deepest insults she can think of, at least personally. Men are the worst. She stands by that, even if the one currently in front of her induces the tiniest amount of pity.] And good. Fuck it. [ So the cogs of evil turn a little slower in the basement. It's not the worst thing. ] About time you took a page out of the old lady's book.
[ She sighs.] Now, if you're done with your pity party, I say we fuck off early and go get a drink.
According to studies done on firefighters lying down with your eyes closed still helps. [ Don’t ask how he knows that or why because he couldn’t possibly say. He might have read it in an internet deep dive or the eye might have “helpfully” supplied the information. At this point he’s never entirely sure which of those options is the culprit.
And yes Daisy, he is definitely more bothered by his staff and Elias trying to act like this is a normal working environment than almost dying again. Almost dying is just a regular Tuesday these days. ] It would be nice to be given some grace for things going a little awry when I’m being almost killed on the regular but no, apparently that’s not- [ He puts on his best Elias voice ] good enough for The Esteemed Magnus Institute where we just accept being maimed and then do all our reports on time anyway.
I don’t think I’m going to entirely do a Gertrude. But this once, sure. Fuck the paperwork, I have drinking to do. [ Maybe when you’ve neither eaten or slept a smart man would say no to the amount of whisky he and Daisy are inevitably going to consume, but Jon is not a smart man, not in this particular way anyway. So he gets off the floor - every single joint in his body cracks on the way up - and grabs his coat from the back of his chair. ] I should probably apologise to Martin. [ For dumping a pile of his incomplete paperwork on him and leaving. But that’s what texting is for. He double checks that his phone is actually in his coat pocket and he’s not about to leave it at work (again.) ] I’ll text him.
Why not? [ She asks when he mentions his predecessor. ] It's not as if you actually running this department means anything but them getting what they want out of it. Wouldn't it be better if you were incompetent at your job? [ Or is Jonathan Sims so prideful that he can't even pretend to be incompetent?]
That's the spirit.[ She crowds him out the door before he can change his mind. ] Don't worry about Martin. He'll just be happy you're getting off the floor and out of your cave.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tardy to the party
[ It’s the day after Martin had experienced temporary insanity in the form of asking his boss out on a date, but Jon might have also been on one himself as he actually agreed. It would have been even more insane to actually go on a date the same day. Not with them 'parting ways' after 4 AM. They’d set a time for mid-afternoon for the next, and Martin finds himself early. It’s been a while since he felt the complex pull of a caffeine overdose and complete exhaustion, so he had made himself a secluded space toward the back with his favorite overstuffed chair, a book set open in his lap where he'd rested an ankle on his knee. Still, his eyes aren't taking in anything.
If it weren’t for the constant shaking of his foot, he would only look mildly nervous. He texted Jon a few minutes ago to let him know where he was in the back and his stomach is a terrible, fluttering knot of anxiety. There's an empty chair with Jon's name on it though; the shop having arranged it for conversation. They hadn't anticipated the lewd activity of handholding, clearly. ]
never a problem!
Having to deal with public transport didn’t help either but he makes it precisely when he’s expected, complete with a beaten up copy of one of his favourite books tucked safely into his bag that he’s intending to loan to Martin.
Jon finds him exactly where he said he’d be, in the back in a chair. And it’s fine, really, it’s going to be nice and it’s absolutely not going to backfire on them professionally. The only real tell that Jon is nervous is how tightly he’s holding the strap of his bag, anything else could easily be chalked up to his usual uptight demeanour.
He drops himself into the free chair, rests his bag on his lap and taps his fingers unthinkingly on the worn leather. ]
Sorry, I’m… Well, not late, but I had planned on being early.
[ Five minutes early is on time, on time is late. really only applies to work. Or should only apply to work. ]
Public transport had other ideas.
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I’m just happy you made it… [ Said like a guy that can’t believe his dumb good luck. ] I er… intentionally left earlier than a sane person would, so I couldn’t talk myself out of believing you’d want to be stuck here.
[ He has to force himself to take a deep breath before he continues to spit out every insecure thought he has – it’d be an awful conversation for a first date. They at least didn’t need all the small talk, working with each other and all. ]
Didn’t sleep much, anyway. [ He grins, self-deprecation evident in his tone; but he remembers to reach for his own bag for the thermos. ] Tea? [ Yes, he’s noticed Jon’s poor abused bag. ]
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Tea would be lovely, I don’t think sleeping was on the cards for either of us this weekend. [ At least he got some reading time in. Even if he hated the book he’d picked up and it’s going straight to Oxfam once he’s finished. ]
I ah… Bought the book I was telling you about. You’ll have to excuse the tape on the spine, it’s rather old. [ Also! Leave his bag alone, it isn’t abused it’s just been with him since university because he takes care of his things (better than he does himself). The book he pulls out has also been with him since university, it has a neat “J. Sims” written on the inside of the cover and the spine has indeed been taped where it has started to peel. ]
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For his sake, he does not. He busies himself with pouring tea for them after giving Jon a shy grin. There’s a huffed “Alright, alright–I’ll relax”. Martin’s hand is surprisingly steady when he hands over a mug. Yes, he made it to Jon’s preference. ]
Oh, I knew I should have brought more but… that’s really sweet, Jon. [ and it doesn’t sound condescending. He takes a moment to get a good look at the man he cares so much about. How did he pull off the tired academic look so well? ] A lot of my favorites are old collections of poetry. [ There’s a moment where Jon can panic about Martin coming across the supplemental tapes, with the wry little grin Martin casts his way. ] I’m not sure if you’d be too partial toward them. So, you’ll just have to deal with my glowing company. [ But, he hasn’t. His eyes crinkle in amusement while he busies himself with a drink, and honestly – he isn’t so humble that he won’t enjoy his own skills in the tea department. He hums, reaching out an empty hand in Jon’s direction.
Is it for the book or his hand? Pop quiz. ]
I might’ve picked up The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo to busy myself while waiting. I think I’ll have to continue it when I’m not hyperventilating at the idea of being here. With you. [ Is he succeeding, anywhere, with being charming? If Jon isn’t death-gripping his bag, that’s a plus. ] It's a compliment. I promise!
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Poetry. Look he’s a massive snoop and he’s nosy and there was the whole panicked stalking thing, but once he realised it was just poetry he shut the tape off and put it back. Because he doesn’t listen to other people’s private tapes, Martin. Probably also shouldn’t have recorded his own mental breakdown but it’s done now and if Martin listened and really took it personally he wouldn’t be here. Unless the whole thing is a well played ruse to- Nope. He is absolutely not going to even think about it. ]
Poetry isn’t too bad, it’s never really been my thing but it has its merits. Some of the greatest stories humanity has to offer were told as poetry. [ He watches Martin sort drinks out like it’s genuinely really interesting, then takes the tea when it’s offered and gives Martin a hint of a smile. ] I studied a few at university. Largely Greek in origin. And thank you.
[ Jon very succinctly fails the pop quiz by staring at Martins offered hand for a moment longer than should reasonably be considered comfortable. He settles the internal bafflement about what Martin wants by placing his own next to it and hooking his pinkie over Martins. Is this what you wanted? is a little evident in the glance he gives. Well, this is certainly what he gets for asking a human disaster on a date. Jon might put a very competent show on at work but when it comes to making genuine human connection he tends to feel totally out of his depth. ]
I’ve never read it, what’s it about? [ The title probably gives it away but there has to be more than that. Murder mystery doesn’t seem like the type of book he’d expect Martin to choose, but you never know. ] If you can explain, past the hyperventilation, of course. [ He’s teasing, but he gets it, promise. ]
we ignore how long life kept me from these cuties
Jon is a bit of an intense experience. The tenacity he approaches work is only mildly toned down outside of the office. His focus and curiosity directed toward Martin makes said man fight back the urge to squirm and blush as he recounts some of his uni days. Ultimately, he finds it endearing, putting in an honest effort to relate to his interests rather than write them off.
Martin only panics marginally when Jon stares at his hand, teeth digging into the meaty part of his cheek to hide the nervous apology for …what? Putting his hand out in shared space? They’re on a date, and this is absolutely silly… but then, they’re holding pinkies. Jon has no right to be this cute. Martin’s smile is both relieved and overwhelmingly fond. It’s a good start. ]
Oh. Well. [ He breaks Jon’s stare to fiddle with the book, brow furrowing as he tried to get his words about him. ] It’s more of a fictional memoir? This actress is getting older and wants to get her life story out there. [ He pauses, eyebrow raising skeptically. ] I haven’t gotten far into it, but I don’t think she uh. Lost them due to ‘mysterious causes’. Shame.
[ He likes mystery if there’s crimes of passion involved – because he’s a romantic. And a brat. His free hand goes to his chest and he turns in his seat a bit to face Jon better. ]
Does it look like I’m hyperventilating? Clearly, I’ve moved on to existential crisis. [ Which means that the careful way he advances their pinkies to join in unashamed palm-to-palm contact is very brave. His fingers fit nicely between Jon’s, and another twenty poems blossom in the back of his mind. ] …Is this alright?
This is insanity, but I amuse myself.
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[ shag nobody goddamnit Tim ]
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And yes I am working late, I have paperwork to finish.
Somebody has been late three times this week and Elias noticed so now I have to write them up. It wasn’t Sasha.
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Go easy, boss. You know Martin has to take care of his mum in the mornings.
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I wasn’t going to write him up at all, I’m being forced to.
[ He sends a photo of the paperwork with “disciplinary action: exception made, his mother was unwell” on it as proof. He’s not a heartless monster, Tim. He’s being forced into useless bureaucracy. ]
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[ Tim had been certain that "not Sasha" had actually been him, but it appears that coming in through the back door with a folder under his arm had worked for him after all. ]
Tell you what, Jon. Leave it on your desk and I'll deliver it to Elias first thing in the morning myself. That's got to save you, what, ten minutes? Enough for one drink.
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[ Which means taking everyone’s shit from every direction. And a little bit of deleting people’s clocking information and replacing it as if they arrived on time. ]
Maybe if it’s not too late by the time I’m finishing actually filling the forms in.
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We've really got to get your computer set up, boss. I know you like it retro, but you can't live at the office.
Alright, we'll save you a seat.
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My computer broke again and the forms are all done on paper, which was not my decision.
[ Yeah, the computer broke itself. It’s definitely not got a cracked monitor from something getting thrown in the office. ]
I will try to make it.
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Again? Bad luck. [ Jon seems to have a lot of that.]
That's practically a promise coming from you, so I'll take it.
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[ He has grievances and none of them are to do with what his assistants are or are not wearing on the job. ]
Oh screw Elias I’ll take the slap on the wrist at the managers meeting. I’m sick of being in the oven.
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That's the spirit!
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[ As if Jon didn’t lock his office door so he could work in a tank top for most of the day. ]
Just got to lock up.
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Be careful. Don't stop for any strangers.
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Wouldn’t dream of it.
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There've been some creepers milling about lately. I blame the heat.
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There was someone doing the worm down the middle of the road this morning.
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As in the dance move? And you failed to record it for the rest of humanity? What kind of Archivist are you?
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I thought recording somebodies clear drug fuelled mental break down was gauche.
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Gauche? I mean, technically, that's what we do on the daily, isn't it?
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And if you do I'll tell them I only said it because you’re unconcerned with how close they get to falling out and have the dress code citation to prove it.
They consent to being recorded, that’s different.
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Well, did you ask the wormer if they minded being recorded?
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Do your shirt up.
[ You’re killing him Tim. Might have even made him laugh. Never owning up to it though. ]
I didn’t much fancy getting stabbed so I crossed the road and got away as fast as I could.
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Shame. It would've been a memorable entry into the Archives. Perhaps bad dancing is a fear manifesting on the streets of London. I'll have to keep an eye out for more incidents.
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There have been dancing plagues, they’re well documented actually, Georgie did an episode of her podcast about the phenomenon.
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Well, if a worm plague is in the pipeline, we should probably know about it.
Oh? Who's Georgie?
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The office falls back into comfortable silence as they all, focus on their individual tasks. Daisy tries to read one of the books that Basira said was interesting, but her eyes keep flicking up to the clock posted above Martin's desk. An hour creeps by and then another. Martin also glances at the clock, but makes no move to get up. Finally, at three o'clock when she knows David is on his way with the mail, Daisy gets up and stretches her back. She pops her neck before she moves down the hall to Jon's office door.
She knocks sharply twice before opening the door and slipping inside before Martin can tell her not to bother him. She flips on the lights, only to snort at the sight of Jonathan Sims lying down with a pillow over his face. She crosses the room and grabs his wrist, feeling for a pulse.] Oh good, you haven't succeeded in suffocating yourself. I didn't want to have to stay late for the paperwork on that one.
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Yes okay, Elias is right that he does owe his assistants the rota on time so they can plan their lives but honestly nobody has come to him about doctors appointments or anything else and when they do Jon does his level best to make sure their days off can be set on the dates they need and everyone knows when on the rota their full weekend will be so they can plan for the full year if they log on to the holiday calendar. Because unlike he’s been accused of he does actually respect and try to accommodate his assistants.
The rest of it? Well it’s not like he can actually fire anyone and if they are late to work they all make up for it within the week or by shaving time off their lunch breaks so late slips (and okay there are quite a few) aren’t the end of the world. Reviews are a month late because he got fucking kidnapped he wasn’t there for a month, and he was in America where Elias sent him when they were due.
Either way he took a huge stack of paperwork home and had a grand total of three hours sleep because he was trying to get through it. So when he got in he was tired and in a foul mood. Thank god for Martin telling him he’d take over as much as he could and to take a nap. Even if he’s actually just lay on the floor with a pillow on his face and considered screaming into it for what feels like hours. He honestly just ignores the door, until someone grabs his wrist and checking his pulse. ]
There’s still time. It could happen. [ He still sounds incredibly grumpy and doesn’t bother to remove his pillow. ]
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[ She drops the pillow and then lowers herself to sit on it in front of him. ] Alright, then. Let's hear it. What's going on?
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I lay on the floor with my eyes closed, does that count? [ It wasn’t for lack of trying but he’s not one of the weirdos he knows who can drink an entire caffeinated beverage and then take a nap and he’s had… a few today. ]
Well Elias sent me out of the country, and I nearly died again and yesterday he pulled me in to his office to tell me I’m going to get email reminders about all my management tasks that I’m behind on and that I need to get better about doing them on time and blah, blah, blah, self-important bullshit Elias speak. [ The stress and irritation permeates his tone. ] So I tried to get on top of it and then Elias found out everyone wasted an hour being silly yesterday… [ He can’t even bring himself to blame them, they can’t quit or be fired, they’re all hostages, why shouldn’t they? ] So apparently I’m too lenient and clearly nobody respects me. [ I mean they don’t but he’d rather that than they’d all continued to hate him instead. ] And I really, truly, can’t be fucking bothered with him and his shit.
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It does not. [ She says, shaking her head. Martin will be sorely disappointed that his nap time didn't work out. ]
Wow. [ She tries to bite back the amusement in her tone. It's not... well, it is funny, but the look on Jon's face isn't. He's clearly bothered by the fact that he's behind on emails and has no control over his staff. Which, compared to the off hand way he mentioned another brush with death, is mildly concerning.]
What a dick. [ It's more than clear that this is one the deepest insults she can think of, at least personally. Men are the worst. She stands by that, even if the one currently in front of her induces the tiniest amount of pity.] And good. Fuck it. [ So the cogs of evil turn a little slower in the basement. It's not the worst thing. ] About time you took a page out of the old lady's book.
[ She sighs.] Now, if you're done with your pity party, I say we fuck off early and go get a drink.
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And yes Daisy, he is definitely more bothered by his staff and Elias trying to act like this is a normal working environment than almost dying again. Almost dying is just a regular Tuesday these days. ] It would be nice to be given some grace for things going a little awry when I’m being almost killed on the regular but no, apparently that’s not- [ He puts on his best Elias voice ] good enough for The Esteemed Magnus Institute where we just accept being maimed and then do all our reports on time anyway.
I don’t think I’m going to entirely do a Gertrude. But this once, sure. Fuck the paperwork, I have drinking to do. [ Maybe when you’ve neither eaten or slept a smart man would say no to the amount of whisky he and Daisy are inevitably going to consume, but Jon is not a smart man, not in this particular way anyway. So he gets off the floor - every single joint in his body cracks on the way up - and grabs his coat from the back of his chair. ] I should probably apologise to Martin. [ For dumping a pile of his incomplete paperwork on him and leaving. But that’s what texting is for. He double checks that his phone is actually in his coat pocket and he’s not about to leave it at work (again.) ] I’ll text him.
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That's the spirit.[ She crowds him out the door before he can change his mind. ] Don't worry about Martin. He'll just be happy you're getting off the floor and out of your cave.