Jamie watches the world through the distorted glass, the front door once again swings open. Another setof thick-sled, leather boots resonated the dirty foyer of The Hathian Police Station. Jamie types, her nails clacking on the laptops keys, the papers she copies rustling, wind breathing from a dusty airvent to her left.
The mesh causes strange shapes to shadow and glow on the wooden bench and she smiles, looking up at the glass, the figure staring at her ferociously,
'Sit. You know I can't help you. So, go. Sit where you were told. And stop bugging me.' her velvet voice blurts out suddenly, the typing ceasing, her slender arms crossing against her chest,
'As soon as someone can help you, and as soon as someone wants to help you, THEN I can help you.' she adds, watching the figure head back to waiting room and return to the same seat as before. She chuckles quietly, taking a sip of steaming hot coffee, before setting down again, the keyboard clacking with her nails. She ignored the stacks of reports, pilling up around her on the counter. Paperwork. Bliss.
I'm the new pen-pusher, key-typer and odd-bod employee.
I'll be on the front desk, copping abuse. You'll most likely find me there.
(Also, looking for friends etc. and people to start plots. etc. Please, IM me inwolrd, notecard me or message me here. Cheers.)
