The world is not clean, but it isn't dirty, either.
It's just there, which was the annoying part. At this point, it could have been overrun with famine or disease or even biological climate control.
But no, that'd be too convenient. So now, well on his fourth year since joining Scepter 4, Fushimi had to make due with what options he had now.
It isn't entirely glamorous, sitting alone at a desk and occasionally being pestered by an overly social and enthusiastic subordinate (he won't allow himself to consider the worse case scenario of Munakata trying to be a team building coach from a bad – typical Lifetime movie), but it's better than being a th-
Well, he still is a thug, but at least he can apply that to something more productive than wagging his tail and bare ass in the face of a brutish lion.
It puts bread on the table, subtly put.
Today, though, his work space appears to have been tampered with. His usual meal was gone, replaced by vegetables, and on the desk was a single slice of cake, complete with a napkin, fork, and overabundant amounts of bean paste set to the side. Piled to the side.
After a long, contemplative stare at the set, Fushimi maintains an indifferent expression, throws the rancid bean paste in the rubbish bin (he was sure to leave the bin out in the hall and not the enclosed room), pulls out his chair, and goes to the usual report revising. He isn't hungry, so he pushes the plate from his work space.
As if I'd set myself up for those guys to never shut up about me eating that thing. It is clear to Fushimi that vegetables were there to starve him out and leave the cake as an only option.
What a bland tactic.
Sure, all the reports mean he'll be here for awhile, and he's likely to get hungry by then, but he could wait it out. Granted today these reports are especially atrocious, so he'd be here even longer than usual. He should drag their authors down here to revise them, but it's easier to do that on his own...
An hour and a half later and yes this is still faster than calling the screw ups responsible for the mess to fix it themselves.
Fushimi's ignoring any sensation of hunger he might maybe possibly be feeling, but he'll live. Right now he's making progress.
That and all that's available to eat in this particular area are vegetables and a slice of cake.
He can finish this mess and eat later.
Growl.
No.
Grrrowl.
N. O. No.
Groooooowl.
His stomach sounds like a fucking Growlithe. But he's almost done with the repor-
Fushimi moves his elbow one centimetre too many the wrong way and papers scatter to the ground. Naturally, he clicks his tongue in aggravation.
This is ridiculous.
For now he's going to ignore bot the growling and current new mess on the floor, there are still some reports to scan over that haven't fallen off the desk. At this point, he might as well fast and work, but hey, that's no different from something Munakata would d-
…
…
"..."
Fushimi can afford a single break to eat the slice of cake.