01-19-2024, 11:26 AM
1 December 2023, 6:59 AM
Sydney, Aqis, Novella Islands
Apartment 44/G, Garden Park Tower
The serenity of the cool winter dawn was punctuated by the din of the Partridge household's early morning rituals, echoing about the apartment's walls. As the cacophony of a mother corralling her primary school son threatened to wake the rest of Garden Park, John began his final preparations for the day of work ahead. Latching onto his last piece of toast - generously slathered with edopru jam, as was his own morning tradition - he shrugged on his suit jacket, before yet another noise was added to the symphony of chaos.
7 AM alarm. Time to leave.
Swallowing the last bite of his breakfast, John grabbed his backpack on his way towards the front door; a quick detour to give his wife a parting peck on the cheek, and he was out the door. Stepping out of the lobby of the tower block and onto Felix Street, the unmistakable smell of his lunch wafting through the air caught his attention. The Hanafleuran across the footpath from John recognised him immediately, shooting a massive smile, and beckoning him toward the food stall.
"Mr. Partridge, Mr. Partridge! Good morning to you!"
"And to you, Mr. Sato. My, my, whatever you have for me today, it smells positively divine."
As had been the daily tradition since Kenji Sato had immigrated to the Novella Islands with his family seven years ago, opening the food stall on Felix Street, John fished the empty lunch box out of his backpack and placed it on the benchtop. Beginning to fill it with authentic Hanafleuran delicacies, Kenji began to speak once again.
"I am sorry to say, but I have bad news for you, Mr. Partridge... I will have to close my stall, very soon." A pained expression shot across his face, before returning to his typical starry-eyed cheerfulness. "My daughter, she will study in Hathon! And, I will open a real restaurant!"
Sato had routinely gushed about his daughter and her achievements to John - having mentioned on multiple occasions that she had applied to the Hathon Academy of Medicine - so it came as no real surprise to him. "Excellence deserves to be rewarded, Mr. Sato. I have no doubt she will flourish there, and I wish you luck on your own entrepreneurial endeavours."
Somehow, Partridge's comments only exacerbated the Hanafleuran's wide grin, as he finished boxing up the man's lunch. "Here you go, Mr. Partridge. Eat well!" Packing the lunchbox back into his bag, the Novellan tried to hand over a 1,000 Novelle note - only accepting cash as payment, a peculiar habit the Hanafleuran had retained from his home country - but Sato refused. "For you, my loyal customer? No charge."
After insisting, twice, John knew the other man was not going to back down. Putting the money back in his pocket, before bowing his head deeply in thanks, he set off for the metro station a block away.
"Ms. Gold, Ms. Gold! Good morning to you!" Sato's voice - greeting yet another regular customer - faded slowly into the omnipresent sounds of the city.
---
1 December 2023, 8:30 AM
Sydney, Aqis, Novella Islands
Office for the Minister of Social Affairs (Sydney Branch)
Exiting the elevator, John's eyes locked on the only other person on the floor; his junior officer, the diligent office earlybird. "Emilia! Just the person I was hoping to see."
The young policy officer glanced up, giving a slight but polite nod of recognition of her senior, before turning back to her work. "Yes, boss?"
"What's the queue on a Class C tenancy, in the... campus district of Rikal?"
"873," she responded to the non sequitur dryly, not even glancing up from her monitor, nor ceasing in her typing of the report she was presently working on.
"There is precisely zero chance you know that off of the top of your head," Partridge chuckled. Ask a joke question, get a joke answer, it seems.
"Would you like me to look it up for you?"
"No, no." Brushing his junior's all too genuine offer aside, he began walking toward his office, before something sparked his memory. With a heel turn, he continued speaking. "Oh, Em... I do need that agriculture report by the end of the day, though. The Minister is going to be on my back about it, otherwise."
Shaking her head with an apologetic expression and a shrug, Emilia rebutted. "Can't be done. NRO still haven't got back to me, yet." For dramatic effect, and to properly drive her point home, she refreshed her email, before giving him another glance.
John had already begun to walk away once again after her first response, confident she was more than competent enough to deal with it on her own. For good measure, however, he shot back a blow at their bureaucratic cousins. "Prod them again. Let me know by lunch whether it's actually a 'can't be done', or if it's just that the NRO can't be stuffed doing it on a Friday."
"Will do."
Darting between the arriving staff on the now-busying office floor and towards his office, interrupted by the occasional greeting, John finally sat down and booted up his own computer for the day. 31 new emails, 2 meeting reminders, and a call from the Minister in 25 minutes. A little bit of breathing time, before things started to get too hectic for the day; certainly enough to sate his own curiosity. Searching through the government database, in just a few minutes, he found the answer he was looking for...
873.
You can't convince me she's not a Tellarian!
With another chuckle, he opened up the spreadsheet with the list of applicants, and began scrolling.
Sydney, Aqis, Novella Islands
Apartment 44/G, Garden Park Tower
The serenity of the cool winter dawn was punctuated by the din of the Partridge household's early morning rituals, echoing about the apartment's walls. As the cacophony of a mother corralling her primary school son threatened to wake the rest of Garden Park, John began his final preparations for the day of work ahead. Latching onto his last piece of toast - generously slathered with edopru jam, as was his own morning tradition - he shrugged on his suit jacket, before yet another noise was added to the symphony of chaos.
7 AM alarm. Time to leave.
Swallowing the last bite of his breakfast, John grabbed his backpack on his way towards the front door; a quick detour to give his wife a parting peck on the cheek, and he was out the door. Stepping out of the lobby of the tower block and onto Felix Street, the unmistakable smell of his lunch wafting through the air caught his attention. The Hanafleuran across the footpath from John recognised him immediately, shooting a massive smile, and beckoning him toward the food stall.
"Mr. Partridge, Mr. Partridge! Good morning to you!"
"And to you, Mr. Sato. My, my, whatever you have for me today, it smells positively divine."
As had been the daily tradition since Kenji Sato had immigrated to the Novella Islands with his family seven years ago, opening the food stall on Felix Street, John fished the empty lunch box out of his backpack and placed it on the benchtop. Beginning to fill it with authentic Hanafleuran delicacies, Kenji began to speak once again.
"I am sorry to say, but I have bad news for you, Mr. Partridge... I will have to close my stall, very soon." A pained expression shot across his face, before returning to his typical starry-eyed cheerfulness. "My daughter, she will study in Hathon! And, I will open a real restaurant!"
Sato had routinely gushed about his daughter and her achievements to John - having mentioned on multiple occasions that she had applied to the Hathon Academy of Medicine - so it came as no real surprise to him. "Excellence deserves to be rewarded, Mr. Sato. I have no doubt she will flourish there, and I wish you luck on your own entrepreneurial endeavours."
Somehow, Partridge's comments only exacerbated the Hanafleuran's wide grin, as he finished boxing up the man's lunch. "Here you go, Mr. Partridge. Eat well!" Packing the lunchbox back into his bag, the Novellan tried to hand over a 1,000 Novelle note - only accepting cash as payment, a peculiar habit the Hanafleuran had retained from his home country - but Sato refused. "For you, my loyal customer? No charge."
After insisting, twice, John knew the other man was not going to back down. Putting the money back in his pocket, before bowing his head deeply in thanks, he set off for the metro station a block away.
"Ms. Gold, Ms. Gold! Good morning to you!" Sato's voice - greeting yet another regular customer - faded slowly into the omnipresent sounds of the city.
---
1 December 2023, 8:30 AM
Sydney, Aqis, Novella Islands
Office for the Minister of Social Affairs (Sydney Branch)
Exiting the elevator, John's eyes locked on the only other person on the floor; his junior officer, the diligent office earlybird. "Emilia! Just the person I was hoping to see."
The young policy officer glanced up, giving a slight but polite nod of recognition of her senior, before turning back to her work. "Yes, boss?"
"What's the queue on a Class C tenancy, in the... campus district of Rikal?"
"873," she responded to the non sequitur dryly, not even glancing up from her monitor, nor ceasing in her typing of the report she was presently working on.
"There is precisely zero chance you know that off of the top of your head," Partridge chuckled. Ask a joke question, get a joke answer, it seems.
"Would you like me to look it up for you?"
"No, no." Brushing his junior's all too genuine offer aside, he began walking toward his office, before something sparked his memory. With a heel turn, he continued speaking. "Oh, Em... I do need that agriculture report by the end of the day, though. The Minister is going to be on my back about it, otherwise."
Shaking her head with an apologetic expression and a shrug, Emilia rebutted. "Can't be done. NRO still haven't got back to me, yet." For dramatic effect, and to properly drive her point home, she refreshed her email, before giving him another glance.
John had already begun to walk away once again after her first response, confident she was more than competent enough to deal with it on her own. For good measure, however, he shot back a blow at their bureaucratic cousins. "Prod them again. Let me know by lunch whether it's actually a 'can't be done', or if it's just that the NRO can't be stuffed doing it on a Friday."
"Will do."
Darting between the arriving staff on the now-busying office floor and towards his office, interrupted by the occasional greeting, John finally sat down and booted up his own computer for the day. 31 new emails, 2 meeting reminders, and a call from the Minister in 25 minutes. A little bit of breathing time, before things started to get too hectic for the day; certainly enough to sate his own curiosity. Searching through the government database, in just a few minutes, he found the answer he was looking for...
873.
You can't convince me she's not a Tellarian!
With another chuckle, he opened up the spreadsheet with the list of applicants, and began scrolling.