justice runs on coffee.

【 SCHEDULED FILE UPDATE 】      ↳  AGENT INFORMATION

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This or That

COFFEE or tea | early bird or night owl what is sleep | spring or autumn | silver or gold | pop or alternative jazz | freckles or dimples | snakes or sharks | mountains or fields | thunder or lightning | Egyptian mythology or greek mythology | ivory or scarlet | flute or lyre saxophone | opal or diamond | butterflies or honeybees | macarons or eclairs | typewritten or handwritten | secret garden or secret library | rooftop or balcony | spicy or mild | London or Paris | denim or leather | potions or spells | ocean or desert | masquerade ball or cocktail party

【 OOC 】      kinda fell off with mr. sassy coffee addict’s muse for a long while. i’m sorry for the long absence. been giving my whale boy full attention.

❝ That obvious, huh?  ❞

Sure enough, as if on cue, 496 yawned – loud and obnoxious. Arceus was she tired, as 735 said, it would be detrimental to the mission if she was half-asleep the entire time. At least she managed to get the handshake down without reeling her head from the tiredness crawling behind her back.

❝ Well, seeing as your coffee’s making you rather chipper this early in the morning, I’d say you didn’t have any of that crappy coffee. ❞ Didn’t help that the coffee itself was made by one of the oldest machines Interpol had. With how many agents addicted to caffeine, they’d at least manage to get a few new ones.

❝ S’fine. I should be awake in the car ride. How do you manage with all the coffee anyway?❞

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         ❛ Just a smidge. ❜ Except, the space between fingers held up to act as scale is much larger than a ‘ smidge. ‘

          Chipper as the agent might be, it does nothing to argue how exhaustion settles under his eyes. Concealer of any sort might of made a dent, but what was there to hide truly. Every agent knew the facts.

          Even if there weren’t dark half circles beneath every other one’s eyes. They all knew lack of proper sleep came with doing their jobs right.

        ❛ Phfah. Arceus. I don’t know, ❜ one hand falls to settle in his pocket, the other retrieves the empty mug just behind him. 735 raises it half heartedly before shrugging into his response. ❛ With another cup. ❜

          There’s an exhale, or maybe a laugh. A combination of the two more fitting. ❛ Really gotta up the caffeine content if I want it to do anything. One cup? ❜ Pushing off the table, he shakes the empty mug lightly. The conference room door seems to be his destination, but his saunter is easy. Unrushed. ❛ Nothin’. Nada. No help, no wake up. Just flavor. ❜

          Dark, bitter flavor. To be exact.

【 FILE TYPE 】      ↳  UNPROMPTED INQUIRIES \ ALWAYS ACCEPTING             ↳ @gamenu​ said: "Hey, hey. Does Lottie wanna see tha egg? I's been movin' more."

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          ❛ She’s probably asleep upstairs, ❜ setting down the freshly hand dried coffee mug, 735 turns his head just a little. More toward the staircase in the corner of the small coffee shop, though without fully looking away from the conversation. ❛ I can imagine she does though. ❜

          A sharp whistle, quick and short, leaves his lips. Hardly a second later, the sound of little nails scurry across the floor above. Doesn’t sound like there’s carpet. That scurry turns to quiet thunking down the stairs, and tail wagging a mile a minute the Herdier can’t seem to run in a straight line toward him. Her butt wiggles too much. 

          Nearly there, Lotte sees Nic. There’s a bound in the breeder’s direction. Then back in 735′s, then Nic’s. And then she just stops. Confused as to who to run to first.

✧ ❛ ᴄʀɪᴍᴇ sᴄᴇɴᴇ: ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄʀᴏss › |  NSFW

【 SCHEDULED FILE UPDATE 】       ↳  AGENT INFORMATION              ↳ FILE ACCESSED:: FEARS

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BOLD ANY FEARS THAT APPLY TO YOUR MUSE!!! ITALICIZE WHAT MAKES THEM UNCOMFORTABLE!!! (and add your own if they aren’t listed)

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          Work seems to have crept into the late hours.

          The door to his office is slightly ajar. Just enough to be noticed when passing by. A small desk lamp still seems to be on, accompanied by a Kalosian radio station quietly going in one corner of the room.

          735 appears to be near nose touching to his computer screen as always. It’s only upon closer inspection that anyone curious enough would find him clonked out on an arm.

          Coffee mug emptied.

          Lottie asleep under his desk, over his feet.

         The screensaver on the computer screen sifts through various pictures of the loyal Herdier, a sign that he’d been out for.  .  . quite some time.

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        ❛ What the hell. How is this my fault? ❜

96 tosses her hair and emits a sharp ‘tsk’ sound, turning her back to the young agent as if she’s about to leave. Instead, she plonks her rear right onto the edge of the desk and crosses one long leg over the other.

“Damn, meu chuchu, no need to get those tight little panties in a twist,” she sighs, the sarcastic term of endearment spoken in a sticky saccharine-sweet voice. She waves the mago berry skewer in her hand, which leaves a fine dust of chili powder on the spotless surface of 735′s desktop.

“And here I thought you were our resident language expert, but this one little job’s got you all strung out? Lemee see.”

Rather than waiting, she tugs the laptop closer and tilts the screen to read the text upside down- The angle not appearing to stymie her comprehension abilities in the slightest.

“Hate to say it, Baixinho, but this is gonna take you awhile. That is- Unless you have a beautiful, generous, intelligent friend to help you with the smuggler code hidden is this transcription… But I guess I should leave you to it, seeing as you’re gonna be here all night.”

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         ❛ Cia━━ ❜ 735′s word of parting is cut short with the plonk of the other agent sitting on his desk. He can feel it, the inevitable raise in his blood pressure. 96 was difficult, and for some reason fixated the most of her annoying flare right onto him.

          Maybe, it was his reaction. Most likely. Probably.

          Part of 735 even thought it was karma. The returned annoyance for being so unprofessionally comfortable with his superior.

        ❛ Have I ever told you how much, ❜ an aggressive swipe of his hand is made, ridding his desk of the chili powder left behind from 96′s street snack, ❛ you irritate me? ❜

         Despite the words said, 735′s tone hardly wavers from its usual indifference. In fact, the little lift of inquiry almost sounds amused. Almost. The eye roll is where the irritation truly sets in, when his laptop screen is turned and pulled away from him. Here it comes. . .

          All 735 does is deadpan. A dark, heavy glare in his eyes. It’s like looking into freshly brewed coffee.