"Was, Is, and Will Be" was the motto of the telegraph office, Jeno decided. And he could decide, because he was the boss of the. Entire. Office. So what if he wasn't allowed to wear the ANBU armor anymore? Nobody really wanted to associate with that group of wannabes and the grandma who had just walked in one day a few months back and acted like she ran the place. Everyone knew that the ANBU Sennin had to be the best at kung-fu! That Haku Yomoko guy should run the place, he really looks like he knows what he's doing, Jeno decided. One day! And then having been a trainee would become immeasurably more bearable.
He paced the blocky office and glanced out of the tiny murderhole into the yard. The telegraph cables ran through the murderhole, which hadn't been glazed, allowing the elements to slip through like a shiv to the kidney. The other murderhole hadn't been glazed either, so it was more like being in a magician's trunk when he decided to do the sword trick. The office was actually a petite tower attached to the Gatehouse proper. The battlement above allowed the reception of even more primitive telegraphs such as smoke, lamp, mirror, and flag signals, and books within the office discussed the manner of translating such messages. There was also a pigeon coop, which provided the soothing noise of doves cooing and occasionally trying to eat each other throughout the day and night. The second floor up had a cot, a footlocker, and a few more bookshelves, where Jeno was basically doomed to spend the rest of his career perpetually on call to receive messages at any time of day and night.
He straightened his suit and sat down at the electric telegraph desk.
I can totally do this. He'd just need a lot of instant ramen.
OOC said:
