milliways_bar | (no subject)

Javert does not know how lucky he was to have avoided both the zombie invasion, and Halloween. So he does not feel any particular gratitude at coming up from the office, and finding the place entirely normal. He just deposits a large box on his corner table, sets a pad of paper next to it, a fountain pen on top, and an inkstand to the side.

That done, a rat brings bread and water, and a napkin that directs him to a package left for him at the bar. He does not notice this at first, because he is preoccupied. He sits, picks a random sheet of paper out of the box, stretches his fingers out and begins to transcribe it to proper paper. In proper handwriting. With proper headings, and a uniformity of style. Because someone knows how to keep account of things, unlike anyone else in the security office.

He came up because it was time to eat, but apparently there is no time to stop for repast. If anyone cares to dispute that, they may go and see the state of the office for themselves.

[OOC: Open until the weekend.
ETA: but for tonight, I must beg slowtime for sleep. Am around to continue all tomorrow. Night, all, and thanks to those who tagged. <333]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He frowns in confusion.

'It is my understanding that people should follow orders, regardless of what that entails.'

He would never dream of asking why an order was given. That was not his place.

David sighs. "If a lack of knowledge and context could get you killed needlessly, it rather makes a difference. I'm not expecting those doing the work to ask, though I wouldn't be surprised if they did. I'm expecting the supervisors to be more forthcoming."

...no, still confused.

'But superiors are not bound to such a thing. They ask loyalty from their inferiors, and should be granted it. If they make a decision, it is because they are the best informed to make it, and so it should be followed.'

He looks down at the table-top, his brow furrowed still. In thought, of all things. It is most disagreeable.

'At least, that was the way it was in my time.'

This is mutter, sullenly put forth, as if a concession that it may not be the only option for running a system.

"To be fair, police work is also an entirely different kettle of fish, time aside."
1832... if David remembers correctly, the Warehouse was either freshly moved from Russia to London, or on the verge of doing so. But procedurally, he doubts much has changed since then.

'Possibly. I do not know the nature of your work, so cannot say for sure.'

This is not a veiled question, though Javert will obviously listen if it is taken as such, and answered. But in truth, he will not push for more explanation. If the man wants to explain, he may. Otherwise, he may keep his secrets.

"Retrieval and containment of dangerous objects, essentially."
It's an explanation that doesn't explain a whole lot, but it does lay out some of the differences.

'And so, you believe you should have more knowledge because these objects have the potential to harm, and may be unpredictable when acquired?'

Well.

'Not so different from criminals, perhaps. Though I suppose there may be more foreknowledge available in your case. Even so, it is what it is. If your superiors do not seem it necessary, then there seems little you could change.'

"Really, the bigger problem there is that I'm a bit by way of being dead at the moment." It's not a state of affairs David expects to change, despite the phrasing. That's just him taking refuge in sarcasm, as is his habit.
"But having talked to some of the people handling the Warehouse's... current operations, I suppose, though they're nearly a century on from me, I have faith it'll get sorted."

Javert's expression turns colder.

'It was a general you,' he says, shortly, because does this Englishman really think he had forgotten he was talking to a dead man?

'It is good there are competent staff. Do any others come here?'

"Permit a man to be frustrated with his inability to truly effect a change?" Really, he's only been dead a week, and this was supposed to be his job once they'd set up shop.
David nods. "A few, yes."
He doesn't bother mentioning that one of them is his former partner. (But he is picturing Javert trying to make sense of Helena, and failing utterly. That would be a sight to behold.)

He inclines his head, a mute apology perhaps. He is not one for change, but is well acquainted with frustration.

'There. They can carry your suggestions to those who might listen. You may yet have success.'

"One of them is one of those who will listen - and I say 'will' because he shares my frustrations."
And if they ever figure out why Mr. Kosan allowed everything to fall into such disarray, David will be quite interested in the answer. In any case, at least he's correcting course now.

'Well, there you are. You can be useful even after death.'

Not every man can say that.

"There is certainly something to that."