Another day at the office...
Aug. 11th, 2006 11:44 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
max-hudson.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
jla_watchtowerIt's 11:30am at the Gotham City District Attorney's office.
Maxwell S. Hudson has only just arrived, having spent most of the morning at arraignments. He hasn't had a chance for a cigarette yet (damned restrictions around public buildings just get more ridiculous by the month), he's had time for perhaps one cup of coffee so far, the city elections are sneaking up on him rapidly, and he's in a suitably cranky mood as a result.
He cleaves his way into his office with the focused steel of a hundred knives.
Pauses at the desk.
Dammit, that woman's been moving things around again. He's sure of it. What, exactly, eludes him for the present. The briefcase is tossed onto a chair, the jacket shucked off with a gesture of his wiry frame. Shirtsleeves are rolled up to his elbows, the tie is loosened, and he sinks into his chair at the desk before clasping his head in one hand.
He can feel a migraine coming on. He could really use some coffee. Or maybe a mallet to the skull. Either would be fine at this point.
Maxwell S. Hudson has only just arrived, having spent most of the morning at arraignments. He hasn't had a chance for a cigarette yet (damned restrictions around public buildings just get more ridiculous by the month), he's had time for perhaps one cup of coffee so far, the city elections are sneaking up on him rapidly, and he's in a suitably cranky mood as a result.
He cleaves his way into his office with the focused steel of a hundred knives.
Pauses at the desk.
Dammit, that woman's been moving things around again. He's sure of it. What, exactly, eludes him for the present. The briefcase is tossed onto a chair, the jacket shucked off with a gesture of his wiry frame. Shirtsleeves are rolled up to his elbows, the tie is loosened, and he sinks into his chair at the desk before clasping his head in one hand.
He can feel a migraine coming on. He could really use some coffee. Or maybe a mallet to the skull. Either would be fine at this point.
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