Hikaru: DEATH TO THE PHONE.

Synch: Hikaru owns nothing.

Impractical it was, the God-Generals share a single office. Large office, but still painfully single. Their desks were spaced enough to have a reasonable amount of concentration when it was quiet, BUT. In the God-Generals’ office, things were hardly quiet. HARDLY. And no one even apologized for it! Oh, the humanity!

As they shared the office, each God-General agreed to take turns filing the paperwork. It was Asch’s turn now, and he was lucky enough to get the office to himself. Asch was taking a small coffee break, and he looked over the office.

Legretta’s desk had begun to gather dust; ever since she formally became Van’s aide, she had no need of this office. Largo’s desk was littered with photos of the princess Natalia. It rather bothered Asch and he sorely wanted to know why Largo was so interested in the princess, but Synch’s words echoed clear and true in Asch’s mind. Although, why Synch had to know about Asch and Largo’s pasts was beyond Asch. Arietta’s desk was impeccably clean—she had no need of the desk, either, since she was mostly out on Order errands. Dist’s desk . . . Asch sighed. Dist’s desk itself always gave him a headache. Littered with pictures of Emperor Peony, Jade Curtiss and his sister Nephry. It also housed a small library of fonic arte books, and also rappig dolls.

Synch’s desk was full of . . . cloth dolls. The dolls he always had the habit of making when he had nothing else of merit to do. Asch imagined the Tempest had picked it up as a hobby since he was always the one to repair Arietta’s dolls when they busted a seam or some such other thing of misfortune happened. Many of them bore the likeness of real people, and bore on them embroidered depictions of the Curse Slot . . .

Asch didn’t want to know what the Abyss Synch planned to do with them.

Asch sighed and got back to work. Halfway through, this shouldn’t take long now. As he filed, the phone on his desk beside his left elbow rang. Asch ignored it. It would stop sometime.

But the phone would not stop its incessant ringing.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

Asch put a few papers in the “done” box.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

A vein twitched in Asch’s temple.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

Ring! Ring! Ring!

Asch gripped his quill tightly.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

Was it him, or was that damnable phone getting louder?

RING! RING! RING!

FUCK IT. Asch threw down his pen, stood up, grabbed the telephone, and with one swift motion tore the phone from its place and its wiring from the wall. With a triumphant yell Asch threw the whole contraption out the already open window. A satisfying crash was heard.

Asch sat back down and continued his work, smiling smugly.