TO: "Jake Eriksson" <j.eriksson@lvl5-agency.org>
FROM: "Katia Mendes" <k.mendes@lvl5-agency.org>
SUBJECT: ( Hey! )

TO: "Lulu Dixon" <l.dixon@lvl5-agency.org>
FROM: "Katia Mendes" <k.mendes@lvl5-agency.org>
SUBJECT: ( Busy? )

Edit: [After this.]

TO: "Ash Stockton" <a.stockton@lvl5-agency.org>
FROM: "Katia Mendes" <k.mendes@lvl5-agency.org>
SUBJECT: ( WTF )

Who: All babysitters & other staff who wander in
What: Regular coffee-making session on Tuesday A.M
Where: Level 5's kitchen area


It was common enough that at an obscenely early hour on a weekday, there was a small trail of young people clutching the paraphernalia of personal preference, clustered around the basic coffee machines of the Agency that had been there at least twice as long as any of them. For as long as anyone could remember, these two monsters of chrome and plastic had sat on the work-surfaces, belching out steam and the scent of freshly-ground. As long as you knew how to coax them into working, that is -- almost a hazing ritual in and of itself.

Any later in the day and likely the rest of the staff would wander in, collecting a mugful and returning to desks. It was a chosen distraction over paperwork and mission briefs at mid-morning, a direction to meander in and take in the rest of the office. At arse-crack of dawn, however, the only people willing to wrestle with the monster machines were those whose explicit job it was to do so. Cardboard take-out trays littered the surfaces, crumpled paper bags from breakfast delicacies, stacks of plain white china sat nearby. When one babysitter had made the mistake of taking a Cleaner their breakfast in the take-out wrapping it had come in, they had scraped the gore off the carpet for weeks afterward.

Lulu stood in line, bag of special blend in one hand, blackberry in the other, checking for updates. It wasn't an especially difficult set of orders at present, but who knew when some superior would demand the extra special?