[hider=The Exhausted Bureaucrat]
[i]Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.[/i] Went the tip of Krevda's inkpen against her desk, marking out tiny little dots everywhere it landed. It was, of course, a feathered inkpen, and every tap brought the fragile tipe closer to being smashed into uselessness, but...

[i]Maybe that wouldn't be a concern if that blundering idiot in charge gave me decent utensils,[/i] she thought, resisting the urge to scream. Ah, yes! But of course! How could she have forgotten!

[i]"You have to maintain decorum, dear. We keep the Imperium running, after all, and must be its best representatives.[/i] Colgrieve always said. Decorum. Decorum!

She struggled to stifle the urge to laugh. They were struggling to supply soldiers with rations, the natives were dying, and they could barely get a singular fucking moment of attention, with all eyes on the Indomitus, and Colgrieve was worried about motherfucking [b][i]decorum?!?![/i][/b]

Krevda snapped the fragile "pen" in her fingers, watching one end drop while the other, covered in feathers, gently floated toward the ground. 

Oh, decorum, she thought. "Decorum!" She barked, jumping up from her seat with such force that her chair scraped and groaned as it was shoved back against the lacquered and wallpapered wall. Ah, and of course, now the fragile, prissy, flower-design flooring was all scuffed up! Another smug scolding was in order then. Just perfect! Absolutely perfect!

"Decorum, decorum, decorum!" Krevda barked, reaching up to run a hand through her gussied-up raven-black hair, tied into an uncomfortably tight bun. "Why, I certainly do love when my drooling imbecile of a boss insists on fiddlefucking themselves with a golden goddamn dildo over their taste in interior decorating! Isn't it just [i]wonderful[/i] when they do that?" She groaned nosily, halfway tempted to bash her forehead against the wall until her brains leaked out, if only so she didn't have to deal with that bitch-whore anymore.

"They don't know the first thing about logistics! They're more concerned about pretty little groundcars than they are reliable transport lines! They cum themselves at the mere thought of getting to drive a guest along in one of their collectible metal shitbuckets, but actually getting people where they need to be? Oh, nonono, Krevda! I only got this job because I sucked the governor's cock so hard my stupid face caved in on itself!" She ranted, mockingly wagging their finger in imitation of the Idiot Supreme that called herself a governor. She'd only met the vile bitch a handful of times, but every time she did, she felt like tearing her hair out by the roots, staring across her office at a portrait of the woman she wished she could tear down. Narrowing her eyes, she caught sight of something strange, which she'd never noticed before in all her hours of infuriated staring.

A single, small blue feather, shimmering as it fell across the canvas like still-drying ink.

[i]You're right, you know. You'd be a much better governor than her.[/i][/hider]