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for decadency
Aug. 29th, 2013 08:18 pmIt's another Monday and the building Dean has worked in for the past three years hasn't changed. A big, impressive, but still fairly ugly office block on Roosevelt Road, a much nicer lobby with either Tanja or Sandy, the receptionists, and one of five security guards screening who's coming and going. Today, it was Randy who checked the metal scanner and handed Dean his gun back, and Dean gave him a smile in return, as per his usual morning routine.
The office itself is the same, too, except for the desk directly adjacent to Dean's. It used to belong to Bela, and used to be covered in neat, tidy stacks of impeccably managed paperwork, with a small glass figurine of a cat being the only personal affect on display. The past month, only looking at Bela's desk would piss Dean off. As well as get him horny, but that's over now. It never really started, since they had sex a total of one time. It was enough to shatter the thin wall of professional politeness between them and to make being partnered up with her akin to torture. Lucky for him, Bela proved her proactive decision-making skills and applied for a transfer, which was granted not two weeks ago. She took her remaining vacation days and headed down to her new office in New York, leaving behind a pristine, empty desk with not a speck of dust out of place to be taken over by Dean's new partner.
Whom he'd never received a file on. HR had promised that it would be in his inbox first thing Monday morning, but when he booted his computer up, there was no email. A quick call got him a few basic details from HR, as well as an apology about their system being down. If there's one thing HR never runs out of, it's excuses for being late with the paperwork.
Now, Dean's sitting at his desk, watching the little digital clock in the corner of his computer screen creep towards 10 am. He's still got the short email from HR pulled up, listing the few basic details on his new partner—DHS, 32 years old, an undergrad degree in Latin Studies and a masters in cryptology, desk jockey in the DHS DC office for the past few years. Goes by the name of Castielle Novak and is registered on the supernatural register as a nephalim. Dean had to wiki that one, but now he can't decide what he's the most worried about: his new partner being a geek, his new partner being DHS, or his new partner apparently being the offspring of an angel and a human.
He's very curious, though. Maybe being half angel makes you hotter? Another glance to the clock on his computer screen tells him that he has to wait two more minutes to find out. Enough time to loosen his tie a little and walk over to the coffee machine in the corner to get himself a fresh cup.
The office itself is the same, too, except for the desk directly adjacent to Dean's. It used to belong to Bela, and used to be covered in neat, tidy stacks of impeccably managed paperwork, with a small glass figurine of a cat being the only personal affect on display. The past month, only looking at Bela's desk would piss Dean off. As well as get him horny, but that's over now. It never really started, since they had sex a total of one time. It was enough to shatter the thin wall of professional politeness between them and to make being partnered up with her akin to torture. Lucky for him, Bela proved her proactive decision-making skills and applied for a transfer, which was granted not two weeks ago. She took her remaining vacation days and headed down to her new office in New York, leaving behind a pristine, empty desk with not a speck of dust out of place to be taken over by Dean's new partner.
Whom he'd never received a file on. HR had promised that it would be in his inbox first thing Monday morning, but when he booted his computer up, there was no email. A quick call got him a few basic details from HR, as well as an apology about their system being down. If there's one thing HR never runs out of, it's excuses for being late with the paperwork.
Now, Dean's sitting at his desk, watching the little digital clock in the corner of his computer screen creep towards 10 am. He's still got the short email from HR pulled up, listing the few basic details on his new partner—DHS, 32 years old, an undergrad degree in Latin Studies and a masters in cryptology, desk jockey in the DHS DC office for the past few years. Goes by the name of Castielle Novak and is registered on the supernatural register as a nephalim. Dean had to wiki that one, but now he can't decide what he's the most worried about: his new partner being a geek, his new partner being DHS, or his new partner apparently being the offspring of an angel and a human.
He's very curious, though. Maybe being half angel makes you hotter? Another glance to the clock on his computer screen tells him that he has to wait two more minutes to find out. Enough time to loosen his tie a little and walk over to the coffee machine in the corner to get himself a fresh cup.
