#theockit

You sigh heavily. You've grown accustomed to the workload that comes with your title, but somehow it's the little things that continue to wear on your nerves. Today was the day the elevator decided to fuck with you. It had assumed a mind of its own, and that mind was made up before you walked in the door that it was going to take you no place you needed to go. "I am a god," you said flatly to the array of buttons lining the elevator wall. The elevator paid you no heed. You ended up having to work in one of the common lab spaces instead of your personal workroom, with over enthusiastic valkyries breathing over your shoulder and badgering you with questions. "I am a god," you muttered under your breath, having tromped up fifteen flights of stairs (the cunting elevator had made its nest between floors) before you'd remembered your little brown moth wings. And your ability to fly with them. You felt eyes judging you as you chugged coffee straight from the pot. "I am a god," you whispered grimly, narrowing your eyes at the adepts as you slinked out of the break room, coffee pot in hand. "Can we have that back?" they had the audacity to call after you. It's the end of the day. You pull out your huskphone, hitting the speed dial. You hear the other end pick up. "ArRrodus?"