[center][url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5643785][img]https://i.imgur.com/Bk3nW6o.png[/img][/url]
[color=crimson][b][h3]Φ PAYBACK Φ[/h3]Meeting Room[/b][/color][/center]
Who the fuck decided to do a drugs talk when you get to do morning and afternoon shifts. What absolute idiot decided that. Myla was, honestly enough, annoyed by that fact and by the great glorious fact that Lightning Girl [i]for some good reason[/i] decided she needed to make a joke out of every thing under the sun, to include the dispatcher whose name Myla had already forgotten. What was it? Jamie? John? Jackie? James. Why the fuck did she feel the need to make so many jokes about his nonsense.

Of course, then one of the officer guys brought in donuts. What could a guy do with eight arms? Does that mean eight funny bones? Did he have a dominant hand or a dominant side? What the fuck did his clothing bill look like? So, so many questions for the eight armed office guy, and more than Myla would probably never ask. Wait, there was another good one. Why the fuck did eight-arms decide he wanted to work in an [i]office[/i]. He could be out there doing…well, heck, massages or something. She didn’t touch the donuts though. Too much sugar, and Myla knew the brand well enough that she remembered they always tasted underdone or some weirdness. Honestly, she just had another coffee. Five packets of sugar, a quarter of the cup as creamer…hey, they needed to restock that…[i]Irish Cream[/i]? What twit bought Irish Cream. Bullshit, she swore, absolute bullshit.

Then Lightning Girl started talking to Myla. [i]Again[/i].

[quote][color=orange]"And you did okay too! I reckon in your heyday you'd have been so much better at stealing ceramics than those losers were. Right?"

"Sorry, I forget I'm so English sometimes! Like you did good. Sorry, that's what I meant!"[/color][/quote]
Long stare at that one. A peptalk, is that what that was supposed to be, from the [i]girl scout[/i] of all people? Myla swallowed, nodding with her eyebrows up and a long drink of her coffee. [i]Irish Cream[/i]. She’ll have to fight someone over that. Who the heck buys that over French Vanilla. Bullshit. She watched the girl go around the place after, talking to each person, congratulating them. Yeah yeah, we need someone [i]else[/i] to tell us we did good. Like we weren’t there. Yeah. Myla started to take another sip. No. No, she just couldn’t do it with the Irish Cream. Down the sink it went, as Myla watched the whole thing from the side.

Then Madcap appeared and started throwing food left and right. What sort of wacky nonsense was this? Was everyone high as fuck or something?

Of course, that’s when a kid walked in. He looked like he was early teens, pre-teens, something like that, a little skinny kid with brown hair and everything. Myla stared, swallowing. Surely they didn’t have a fucking kid around, as a…a hero or even a dispatcher? Surely not. That’d be such utterly stupid bullshit, considering like…what, there were child labor laws. Was it someone’s kid or…something? What was going on?

[quote][color=61DE2A]“Ah. Hello. I assume you must be the heroes? Nice to meet you. I look forward to working with you all.”[/color][/quote]
[i]Fucking what[/i]. Myla stared for a second longer.

[color=crimson]”When did we start having fucking kids working here? The hell’s this?”[/color]