Central City, Central City HQ, Lt. Colonel Hutchings' Office
December 28th, 1915, 1:02 AM
'Late-Night Discussions'
At the exact moment the clock in Lieutenant Colonel Hutchings' office hit one AM, everything went straight downhill.
That was the exact moment that Captain Porter slammed her overdue paperwork down onto her already creaking desk in frustration, and just as Corporal Breckenridge and Warrant Officer Wilson stood, grinding their teeth at each other.
"Corporal…." Sergeant Major Abernathy whined tiredly. Why'd the Lt. Colonel always make them stay so late?!
"Not now, Sergeant Major." Corporal Breckenridge groaned. "They're called Brigadier Generals, Warrant Officer!"
"You're wrong! Out west, they're called Commodores!" Warrant Officer Wilson hissed.
"Well then, the West is wrong, isn't it?"
"No, you're just wrong."
Normally, these two were on good terms with each other. But, when two stubborn wills and contrasting opinions collided, well…
"Commodore!"
"Brigadier General!"
"Commodore!"
"Brigadier General!"
"Commodore!"
"Brigadier General!"
"You're both wrong," Captain Porter stated monotonously. The two arguing officers' focus snapped to her. "They're called 4th Degree Commanders."
"Sure, in the country of Díazza they are!" The two shrieked together. Captain Porter's left eyebrow twitched massively, and her normally calm demeanour melted away.
Soon, the already cramped office was filled with angered shrieks of three people trying out-yell one another.
Major Thompson slept on in the corner, book laid on her face.
"She can sleep like a brick, can't she?" Lance Corporal Breedlove muttered jealously, her voice nearly covered by the three officer's yelling.
"Mmmhmmm." Sleepily muttered the Sergeant Major.
1 AM was not a good time for work.