A Routine Audit [Closed]

Alexander had been in his current position and current office to know instinctively the subtle little noises that came with this old and disused part of the building. As such, even prior to the sound of someone knocking on his door, he knew that someone was coming down the corridor his way. Nonetheless, he was hardly going to spring up from his desk. Despite the rather low activity that accompanied his current position, Alexander had plenty of people coming to his office. Granted, he didn't get many Vaizards walking in looking for help, but he did have an office and there was always paperwork that an able hand could help out with. There were forms and files to review and, without anything to do related to the duties of his rank, he had to do something with his time. He'd risen from the position of Filing Clerk, so he might as well be doing what he already knew.

He'd just settled down at his desk with his first hot drink of the day, a lovely blend of red bush tea with cinnamon, orange and cloves. Even though it was quite drinkable now, he was content with just a small sip and to inhale the fragrance. This was the calm before the storm, something soothing to lull him into a false sense of security. Perhaps if he'd not the tea's scent to inhale, he would have noticed sooner the approaching smell of Murat Pasha's alcohol and tobacco. As Alexander looked up, seeing Murat, there was a brief flicker on his face, a mix of shock, there was surprise, unpleasant, but the slightest hint of embarrassment saved his otherwise offensive reaction. He instantly recalled the last time he'd met Murat, who was completely drunk at the time, and remembered quite clearly that a drunk Murat was also a handsy one too. The expression was brief though, before a mild calm reclaims the stage.

On the plus side, based on the lack of slurring in the speech, the way his eyes seemed to actually focus, and the fact that he was standing upright without swaying, Murat didn't seem to be drunk this time, at least not as drunk. The obvious comments occured to Alexander, but he had better tastes than to say 'oh, you seem to be in a good mood today, you're sober'. There was also the fact that, along with the files he carried, he was also carrying a bottle of something, so maybe it was just early days.

"Mr Pasha, of course, I'd be happy to help. The kettle's just boiled, if you'd like something."

A strong black coffee, perhaps. He didn't say this. It would be the instant kind in any case, Alexander hardly ever dipped into his own personal collection of select beans for the purpose of entertaining guest, unless they were somehow special, and least of all for Murat Pasha. Rising from his chair, Alexander made the habitual tug and tuck that came to him naturally, out of a sense of neatness and at least began a motion towards the little kitchen area he had to one side. Something told him that his guest wasn't much of a tea or coffee drinker.

It wasn't that Alexander disliked Murat, exactly. True, his first impression of him wasn't great, he just wasn't the kind Alexander liked to get along with, but he'd come around to the opinion that someone who drunk as heavily as Murat might be doing so as an escape. Sadly, there were times lately in which Alexander could empathise. Even before coming to the Seireitei, Alexander knew the kind. In the Rukongai, inevitably you'd get the occasional old man or unfortunate soul you'd come across like this, some tortured history had driven them to drown themselves in the only liniment available. Some of their tales he'd actually heard, and as tightfisted as he usually was with his money, he'd had, back when, on occasion, a few coins to spare for a poor soul in need of a drink.

So, when he was sober(ish), Alexander thought it worth being kind to Murat, and to give him at least some leeway the rest of the time. He wasn't entirely sure what a sober Murat would be making of Alexander, though he knew what a drunk one would. This was his first time meeting Murat like this, and he had to assume that in this state at least, he wasn't so prone to making... erm... certain advances. It was true that Murat Pasha had also been witness to a minor incident that'd taken place some time ago during a training session, and wasn't entirely sure how that painted Alexander in his eyes.

Seeing as Murat wasn't drunk, despite the fact that he had brought drink with him, and he was apparently here in regards to records and files, the duties related to Murat's rank, Alexander had to at least entertain the notion of this being work related. It would perhaps, as this goes on, be to the young officers detriment to be underestimating Murat. He had this notion in his head that the man drunk a lot, which was true, and had been given some simple desk job in the records office and was not all that dangerous. In some small part, Alexander was of the opinion that Murat had been given this easy, quiet job to put him out of the way, where he couldn't cause any trouble, but it was more than possible that, very soon, he was going to have to take the man more seriously.

Word Count: 931
Total GP: 18

"Please, we can be informal here. We're both officers, after all. Just Murat will be fine," he said, waving his arm dismissively. Murat had long hated how many of his fellow Shinigami felt the need to be overly honorific to their peers, though he wasn't surprised in the least that Alexander was of that ever-prevailing mindset. He would have to see about changing that, especially if he was going to drag any information out of the man.


Strolling across to the Sixth Seat's desk, he set the bottle down in the middle of the table, careful to keep Alexander's papers clear. He then placed his own documents on the side of the desk, careful to keep them separate from anything that his target had been working on before hand. Smiling and gesturing to the whiskey, he said, "I've already got our refreshments taken care of! Some of the best out in the Rukongai, courtesy of one of my new staff member's family brewery. Two cups would be nice, if you would be so kind."

Bringing up his underlings was a calculated move. Alex hadn't been down to congratulate him yet, and it had been frustrating Murat to no end. He had publicly praised Alexander's promotion the first time they had met, and this prim and proper prick hadn't had the common courtesy to return the favor. Maybe he had taken issue with the Captain Commander giving Murat the Fourth Seat, even if she hadn't proven to be too reliant on the standard hierarchical structure. If he couldn't get to the bottom of it, the least he could do was to drag out a handshake or something from the man.

Sitting down in Alex's guest chair and squirming slightly to adjust himself, Murat found himself again frustrated that Mr. Terada hadn't taken him up on his offer to upgrade this office. It was so depressing and ugly with its standard flooring, subpar furniture, and creaky floorboards that sounded suspiciously similar to ones Murat had often heard overhead in his office. Tracing his path to the room in his head, he quickly wondered if the Sixth Seat's office had been the source of all those annoying sounds. Shrugging the thought away, he gestured toward the papers he had brought with him, saying, "As I said, I've got some things I want to go over with you, but they can wait a little longer. How've you been?"

WC:404/1237

Alexander found his gaze dropping onto the bottle now on his desk.

{Well, at least he isn't getting it on my work.}

His sight snaps back to Murat with a slight smile.

"Of course."

He says that, though when asked to get two cups, Alexander naturally turned his thoughts to whether or not he actually had any glasses. Afterall, it would only be appropriate to serve whiskey in a clear reciprocal. He'd retreat into his little kitchen space in search of what he may or may not have.

{So Murat has his own staff, well good for him...}

There was no door or anything, for his little kitchen, just an open archway, and a thin wall distinguishing one area from the other. It'd be possible for Alexander to continue to hear Murat and for them to converse. Checking the cupboards, past the coffee, teas and cups, Alexander would actually find a couple of unopened boxes that looked promising.

"Oh, well enough..."

He'd reach in and carefully fish out the one box from the back, carefully navigating it past the tea bags and jars of instant coffee. It had a slight weight to it. Opening it, he'd find a glass, wrapped in paper. It looked intact, albeit the dust made it fairly clear how long it'd been back there. He'd remove all the packaging and, after blowing on it, would start giving it a quick rinse under the tap, twice the sound of the water bubbling up in the cup before being poured out.

"... not been too busy, but you still have a case or two that you need to keep a close eye on. Got to make sure none of our brave boys in black decide to go on a slaughterfest in the middle of a hospital, or something like that. Though I admit, it'd probably be easier if I had my own staff."

It was a bit tricky to try and joke about something like that with Murat. Frankly, he knew it wasn't exactly a joking matter, though at the same time he'd not seen or heard of anything like that happening recently. It felt a bit blunt, though if it came down to mentioning such grim details, he recalled that Murat had no trouble doing so about his own job, albeit it hadn't really been made as part of a light hearted topic. He didn't feel that he knew the man well enough to know what his reaction would be, it was possible he took thing serious enough not to find that the least bit amusing. That said, perhaps it was more the lack of staff Alexander was subtly trying to get at.

"But then, that's my concern, no need for you to worry about that..."

Returning to the office space, a cloth wiping out and drying the inside of the glass (hardly a shot glass), Alexander places it carefully on the table by the whiskey. It seemed more than likely, to Alexander, that this 'audit' was merely a pretense, and that Murat simply wanted to talk. The guy was a troubled drinker and, as much as that usually made one a social pariah, Alexander acknowledged that such people, like any, needed company every now and then. He tried to avoid drinking when he could, reserving that for celebrations and special occasions, but at least Murat wouldn't be alone when he was drinking.

"I'm sure it's fine for you to just relax down in your office whenever you can, and if you ever need anything, I'd be willing to see what I can do to help... within reason. Hopefully things haven't been too hard for you... I'm afraid there was only the one glass..."

Murat, most likely, hopefully, wasn't able to see up into the cupboard from there, not that it would have been entirely obvious that there'd been another glass. In a purely defensive move, Alexander reaches for his tea and brings it up in front of him ready to drink as he leant against the desk.

"... we're mostly tea and coffee drinkers around here, but please, help yourself. Whatever you wanted to talk about..."

Word Count (Total): 687 (1618)
Total GP: 32

"Just one will have to do, then!" he chuckled, opening the bottle and pouring it gently into the glass until it was just shy of the rim. If Alexander thought he was going to get out of drinking, he had another thing coming. Murat smiled as he pushed the glass gently across the desk so it sat in front of the spectacled Shinigami. Reaching into one of his many chest pockets and pulling out his hip flask, he wasted no time in clicking it against Alexander's drink in a toast, "To seated positions, the slayers of free time!"

He drank from the flask with a smile on his face, his slightly squinting eye watching Alexander intently, pressuring him to join in. After filling his mouth, he pulled the flask away and savored the flavor with a satisfied sigh before setting the flask on a clear part of Alexander's desk. Leaning back in the chair, continuing to struggle for a comfortable way of sitting, he couldn’t help but consider his surroundings more thoroughly. Alexander had been an officer for how long and yet he still insisted on using these subpar furnishings? It just didn't make any sense.

A sudden realization came to Murat's mind as he shifted around in his seat. If Alex really was involved in the conspiracy, then he certainly would have used it to benefit himself somehow, yet his office looked worse than most of the empty ones on Murat’s floor. Either it was a well planned move to throw someone off, or he was actually innocent. Deciding to pry, Murat voiced his concerns, "You know, you're in a position of leadership around here now. If you want, I'm sure we could find the funds necessary to do some much needed replacements in here. I mean, if I were a Vaizard and I walked in here, I'd feel more like I was walking into a prison cell than a warm and comforting environment."

He winced as his back found a particularly unpleasant bump in the chair. It was all just so sad in this office. What kind of person would wake up every day, walk to this and be able to focus? His kitchen looked woefully understocked, the wood looked about as cheap as the furniture, and the man didn't even have a proper liquor cabinet! What was the point in living in a society where carpenters could hone their craft for hundreds of years if you only used the cheapest crap available?

Deciding to sweeten the pot a bit more, Murat lightly waved his flask at the man across from him while saying, "And if you’re understaffed, you should have just said something! We might be a little swamped downstairs, but it’s not like I couldn’t find someone to come up here and give you a hand every now and again. We’re batting for the same team here, Alex, you don’t have to be so shy about needing a little backup.” Satisfied he’d dangled enough generosity for his colleague to jump on, Murat lifted the flask back to his lips and took another sip. The stick would come soon enough if the carrot failed, and that comment about hospitals seemed particularly out of place. Still, there was no reason to be the bad cop so early in their discussion.

WC: 552/1789

Still holding his cup of tea carefully in front of him, Alexander's eyes watch the whisky being gradually poured into the glass.

{Am I supposed to say when?}

It was a lot, especially for whiskey. There was a slightly fearful look on Alexander's face. He doubted he'd still be... no, he'd still be standing after drinking that lot. It actually took more than most, apparently, to take Alexander down, just not very much to have him drunk and not remembering anything. Still, he was very wary of having anything to drink, especially after last time...

The toast was somewhat odd, 'slayers of free time', he couldn't help but smile slightly at that. He supposed that he was meant to put down his drink, and pick up the one that Murat had poured, but instead Alexander carefully extended his cup out, touching his ceramic to Murat's metal before taking his first sip. It was slightly awkward, but rather than listing the reasons why he wasn't keen to be drinking, especially during office hours, Alexander says nothing. The tea was soothing, and he took a second or two to savour the taste before Murat was back to talking once again.

In fairness, he was right about the state of Alexander's office. The best he could boast was that he kept it clean. In some ways, Alexander regretted having turned down the offer from one of his clients (apparently the son of some wealthy merchant types) to see to his having more comfortable surroundings. However, something about the 'to thank you for helping me out with my little problem', had had Alexander somewhat weary of taking him up on what one might, from another perspective, see as a bribe of sorts. Still, everyone who came in here seemed to have something to say...

"Yes... right... well. I mean, I wouldn't have said I was exactly 'shy' about it or anything."

He felt the need to clarify and, less slouching and leaning on his desk, more prim and proper and formal, the young officer straightens himself up. There's another habitual tuck of his garments, setting his tea down briefly for a second before picking it up again....

"What I mean is, the Sixth Seat doesn't, technically, have an assigned office. I suppose I must have been seen as something of a low priority. As it happens, all my mail actually goes to the clerk's office down the hall, it's just that they know to send it up here. Technically, I'm not even supposed to be here, but something about saving the life of my last boss has, apparently, endeared me to him somewhat. I think he, kind of, also knew that I was going to be promoted some time soon. Anyway, he snuck a few forms through, had a bit of work done on this place next doors, some restoration, not that he could afford to get much, without drawing too much attention, but at least the taps in the kitchen work. Just between us... and... actually... nearly everyone on this floor... this space we're in now isn't strictly speaking in commission. It was all dust sheets and cardboard boxes and... old scaffolding, before I got the place. If you think it's bad now you should have seen it before. I mean I've actually got a lightbulb now, and a carpet."

He refers to the single unshaded source of light dangling from the ceiling by its cable.

"Though I have been thinking about getting a plant maybe..."

This time to the second (or possibly third) hand carpet and to its unidentifiable stain in the corner.

"Of course, I think my first priority is the window."

The lower of the two panels of which is actually wood instead of glass.

"I mean, you should see my quarters..."

A short pause and a brief upward twitch of the eyebrows, the slightest of quickening to his pace, and some undue haste had him quickly clarifying what he meant.

"That is!... they're kind of small, and old. At least I have them all to myself though, better than the bunks in the barracks. I'm kind of lucky that the Sixth Seat even has his own quarters. Though it did take a bit of work to make them habitable again. A lot of dust..."

He trails off slightly, remembering it. The dust, oh, so much dust...

"That said, that was all under the old administration, or at least, the chaos that came after it. I mean, I knew I was pretty much guaranteed, when it came to any of my request for more resources... or even an actual staff... or an actual office... a lightbulb I didn't have to pay for with my own money... of for that matter, clearance to see any files or documents that might be pertinent to my job, you know... being denied anything and being told to make do with what I had... it was just... how it was. As it happens though, I have been... considering... you know... putting through some forms, going through the proper channels, maybe get a proper office and a staff. Not that I'm entirely sure what I'd do with them though... But... it... Well, I've had a lot on my plate, stuff that I'm dealing with. I mean, I think the fact that perhaps a few more people actually know now that the Sixth Seat of the First Division is an actual position, and also, perhaps, the fact that I actually know the Captain Commander personally, it would actually... get me what I needed. It's just that... I keep meaning to get around to it. I keep saying I'll do it, and I just... Well, I'm not the most proactive of people, and I know that should have changed when I became an officer, but it's... you can't just say 'I'm going to be more productive today, and get it all done'. It's not that easy, you know... to get out and just do it... to get together all you need, figure out what sort of budget I'd need, have all the forms..."

He looked tired.

"...or even, for that matter, sometimes... even getting up in the morning..."

Having forgot himself for a moment, Alexander returns to his usual self with a slight smile. A stiff upper lip, that was the key. You 'carry on', and why bother someone else with your own problems, especially someone like Murat?

"...but, we all have our ways of dealing."

With a slight raise of his cup, he indicates to another silent toast and takes another sip of his tea, hoping to dispel the impression he'd just made. He continues...

"I guess at some point, I just need to bite the bullet and get to it."

Word Count (Total): 1124 (2742)
Total GP: 54

He didn't even need to bring up the purpose of his investigation and already Alexander had grabbed a length of rope, tied it to a tree, and measured it to make sure it was a snug fit for his neck. Robert had gotten him this job by sneaking forms through Murat's unit? Sure, he hadn't been in charge at that time, but Kasumi had been very clear that he was responsible for any issues like that, both those going forward and in the past. The only question that remained was if Alex's promotion tied to his illicit dealings or if the former Lieutenant had other reasons.

He sat and sipped his beverage occasionally as Alex rambled on. He seemed nervous about something, but Murat couldn't tell if it was just the Sixth Seat's natural state or if there was something setting him off. Avoiding the drink was a bad sign. Just what was he afraid he might reveal with his inhibitions lowered? It would have been a further implication of guilt if it weren't for the fact that the records officer hadn't even touched on the purpose of his visit yet.

His suspicions were thrown on their head when the other man stammered after seeming to invite him back to his quarters. So that's what he was so nervous about? He had been a little handsy during Daichi's meeting and, if this office was indeed above Murat's, he strongly suspected his activities with Walkren might have carried through the floorboards. Here he was thinking Alexander might have been part of some grand conspiracy when it now seemed as though he was the only thing hiding in his closet.

It was all just too rich. Unable to fully contain himself, Murat did what he could to mask a chuckle by moving the flask to his lips and taking a sip. Thankfully, it seemed Alex paid him no heed, continuing to talk and covering up Murat's reaction as he went on to complain about his own sad state of affairs.

Murat's eyebrow raised as Alexander mentioned a personal relationship with the Captain Commander, though obviously not well enough to refer to her by name. He'd definitely need to talk with her about him with that revelation, if for no other reason than to get her thoughts on him publicly boasting of their 'relationship.'

His scheming was cut short by an apparent shift in Alexander's tone. The man's words, previously a little bit awkward, had taken a turn for the downright depressing. He forced himself to smile and power through it, but it was clear that something was bothering him. Breaking his silence as Alexander lifted his tea, Murat simply said, "No, stop drinking that." Raising his hand over the cup and blocking it from Alexander's lips, he pushed down gently.

"Alex, when was the last time you unwound? I can almost hear your gears staining from the stress, " he said exasperatedly, "Look, Kasumi gave me the okay to drink at work if that's what you're so worried about. Hell, I've even shared a round or two with her on the clock. Relax and accept my gift. You need it." Murat sighed gestured toward the glass sitting in front of Alexander.

Kicking back in his chair, still trying to get comfortable, Murat looked around the room and surveyed the damage. This whole setup really wasn't at all befitting an officer of the Gotei. Even if Alex was guilty of treason, his successor would deserve better. "And as for the furnishings, don't worry about it. I've got a guy and can take care of the forms for you. Nothing too fancy, but we can at least fix the place up a bit, " he said with a wave of the hand. The funds would be easy to reallocate. With how bad it was in here, it might even be possible to classify it as combat damage.

Tapping his finger on the desk, he looked back to Alexander, smiling. "I'll have him and one of my staff come by tomorrow, if their schedules permit. I'm thinking Utamuro can start things off and we'll work out a cycle with some of the others. Does that sound okay to you?" he half-asked, half-asserted as he raised his flask again for a proper toast.

WC: 715/2504

There was a sense of abruption, Alexander's natural rhythm being assaulted. Tea was stopped short of its target. An automatic pilot was flicked off unexpectedly. His false smile quickly found itself depleted, fading away. The slightest twitch of his drinking arm marked Alexander's startle, Murat's actions catching him off guard, fighting against the older Shinigami's physical assertion for the briefest of instances. His brow furrows, but only for a moment, as he reluctantly allows his drink to be drawn away from him. Naturally, he lifts his gaze to enquire as to what the hell Murat thought he was doing. However, as the aged records officer explains, pointing out Alexander's current faults, and voicing his concern, the young Sixth seat found himself dropping his sights down and away.

It was shameful. Had he allowed his strain to show that much? Of course, saying what he'd said hadn't helped. It'd been inappropriate. Not to say at the least, how wrong it was also for him to be feeling such stress and for him to allow it to affect him so. He wasn't entirely sure why he even said what he'd said. Perhaps, he'd intended to laugh it off as a joke, on the off chance Murat had taken him seriously. Maybe he'd meant to depict it as a minor concern. Afterall, why would he of all people lay such a heavy burden on someone else, and on someone like Murat, no less?

His first instincts told him to meet the other man's gaze again and reassure him with a smile, to say that there was no cause for concern, to not take him so seriously, and other sentiments along those lines. However, Murat was hitting upon the subject with a deadly seriousness and a sense of deep concern Alexander had not expected a, he now had to speculate, well and truly sober, Murat to possess. He'd experience other difficulties, concerning his more usual approach, namely, he knew Murat was right and he felt... well, you could only fake a smile for so long. He also had to consider that perhaps a part of him had compelled him to speak, as he had, because it knew he had to. Despite having been in this sort of situation before, even going so far as having to go through psychological recovery for Post Traumatic Stress and the grief of losing a loved one, and at times Alexander had to wonder if it was more appropriate to describe that, in actuality, as a 'partial' recovery, even learning to rely on other people's help in those times, accepting the aid of others, he still couldn't help but feel a sense of disgust at this 'weakness'.

Instead of raising his head, Alexander found himself following Murat's gesture to the horribly full glass on the desk. There was a pause as Murat sighed, examining his surroundings once more, and Alexander stared broodingly at the whiskey. It took a little while, but Alexander finally did as he was asked.

"Fine."

There was a hint of irritation in Alexander's voice, and when he placed his cup down on the desk, he perhaps did so a little heavier than he had intended. Coming in from above, Alexander closed the tips of his fingers around the outer rim of the glass, having to pick it up with the utmost care, attempting to keep the liquid line wobbling on the brim from spilling. His hand shakes. Having to navigate around his paperwork now, with care, not wanting any of the spilling liquid to fall on his work, Alexander air lifts the drink around to his side of the desk as he himself moved around to his own seat. With his left hand, he did what he could to straighten out his papers, before sliding them carefully to one side. Only with a space properly cleared, does he dare to settle the glass down. He hadn't taken a sip yet. Murat continued, laying out his preliminary plans for Alexander. In the end, though he still couldn't meet the old Shinigami's gaze, Alexander had to mutter some gratitude.

"Thank you..."

Despite once more being called to drink a toast, which had him glance up briefly from his brood and contemplation over the colour of the whiskey, Alexander found himself pausing. As his fingers closed around the glass, for some reason, there was an inexplicable urge to throw it to the wall, violently. He fought the impulse. The thought of becoming the kind of person that just drowned their problems with drink was unseemly. It probably didn't help, the amount of liquid in the glass. The whole thing was probably smaller than a half pint glass. It was possible he was maybe looking at a third, but it seemed to him that, with it being whiskey we were talking about, 'pints' was not an appropriate unit of measurement to be in use. This was especially so for Alexander who, and he was quite aware of this, didn't have as much of a tolerance as some, or even most, for that matter.

Eventually he conceded, reluctantly picking up the glass. As it drew close to his lips, there was a definite curling of nostril hairs more used to the fragrance of various types of tea than the noxious, head spinning fumes that rose off this particular straight served concoction. There was another pause as the ever mulling, and now more decisively miserable looking Alexander contemplated the drink. Trying to recall the sensation and roughly how much might make a half a shot, the young Officer finally takes a small sip. Immediately there's an almost revolted clenching of the features as Alexander closes his eyes and turns his head slightly to one side before swallowing. He stays like that briefly as he 'savours' the flavour, before he speaks again.

"You know..."

He says, finally turning his head back, opening his eyes as much as they could, and putting his sights back on Murat. Holding tentatively the glass in his hand before him, he addresses it and the contents, before lowering it carefully to the desk.

"... I'm not having this much in a single sitting. You'll pardon me, but I don't drink as much as some people."

It was curt and abrupt.

"Though the problem isn't the flavour..."

Which, despite his initial 'Alcohol' reaction, was actually true. Something Murat had said though, it had Alexander thinking all of a sudden. Yes. It certainly put a new dimension to his current assumptions about the old man, and his position, appointed to the First Division's Fourth Seat.

"I'm surprised though that Miss..."

He had to correct himself.

"... Commander Shinoda, is much for drinking, much less with yourself. I mean, I know she's aged a lot recently, but I just couldn't... hadn't picture her gulping down a glass of whiskey."

He knew that the sip would be trouble. It only took a little to get him acting 'off', and only a very small amount beyond that and there'd be loss of memory. Surprisingly, or so he'd been told, it apparently took a great deal more to have him actually out and on the floor, and it seemed a slightly amusing idea that he could probably drink even someone as heavily tolerant (he had to assume) as Murat under the table. Still, the effect wouldn't be instantaneous, it'd take a little while after swallowing before the intoxication would make it into his system. He let the drink lie for now, letting the first dose run its course and properly settle in before risking another.

Word Count (Total): 1260 (4002)
Total GP: 80
OOC: There, Alexander has had some whiskey. You happy now?

"I think Kas is more a rum woman, actually," Murat clarified with a smirk as he remembered his promotion, "And you'd be surprised about what she's like behind closed doors. I know I sure as hell was." Just what he meant by that he'd leave up to Alex's imagination. It was a truthful statement, but leaving his companion guessing as to the actual reason behind Murat's new position served his purposes well.

"My apologies for the over-pour. The old depth perception isn't exactly what it used to be," he said as he laughed at his own joke and tapped his eyewear. Reflecting back as he finally found a comfortable spot in the chair, he realized he had never told his drinking companion the circumstances behind this loss of vision, though it was possible he'd heard rumors. As it was an established part of his public record, he saw nothing to lose by sharing the story, especially if it would even make the other man a little more comfortable. He might even be able to convince the man not to let that full glass go to waste.

"You know how I got this thing, right?" he more stated than asked after a brief pause to sip his own drink, "Happened back in '75. They had me out on my first solo assignment dealing with a massacre in Beirut." He could play the scene over in his head easily, having relived it on many a sleepless night. The nightmares had mostly gone away with time, but he doubted he'd ever fully recover from the trauma. Looking back to Alex and setting to work unfastening the device from his face, he continued, "Things were going fine until I got ambushed by this big snake-looking motherfucker. I beat him, but not without paying for it."

Making sure Alex wasn't drinking when he did so, Murat pulled the machine off of his face and revealed the permanent scar tissue that laid underneath. The open air felt pleasantly cool on his vacant eye socket, prompting a relaxed sigh to part his lips as he set the device down on an empty part of the Sixth Seat's desk. Cutting off the inevitable question, he said, "Third and Fourth Division couldn't make heads or tails of it. It's basically a dead zone from what they say. That apparatus is the closest I'll probably ever get to having my regular sight back."

He shrugged, having more or less accepted it long ago, even finding benefits in not having an easily readable face. There was a lesson in this for Alex, Murat realized as he broke up the gel his hair in order to style it down over his wound. A frown on his lips, he said, "That night essentially kept me out of the rotation for 4 decades up until the attack last year. Hell, if I hadn't been delivering some records that day, I'd still probably be off the normal duty roster."

Shrugging and sipping his drink, Murat considered his own statements. In a sick way, he did owe his current position to Cazador and his ilk. Kasumi surely would have still called on him when she came over, but there's no way she'd have promoted someone to a seated position if they hadn't been doing the most basic duties of a rank-and-file Shinigami for as long as Murat had been sneaking out of them, even if he did have completely legitimate medical waivers and a slew of volunteers willing to cover for his shifts.

Pulling the flask from his lips, he smiled at Alex, saying, "I guess one takeaway is that you shouldn't just sit around on this kind of stuff. You don't want to look at that window in 40 years and still see the same boarded up panels." It might have just been the booze, but it felt strangely good to tell Alex about his past. His mind half on his task and half trying to sustain this line of discussion he asked, "What's going on with you, and is there anything I can do to help?"


WC: 682/3,186

Taken aback by Murat's comments regarding the Captain Commander, Alexander found himself slightly uncomfortable with the insinuations. He'd first met Kasumi when she was a small child and while he'd been forced to acknowledge her as an adult now, and as his superior, hearing Murat speak of her that way... It was like he was talking about his little sister or something. Nonetheless, he attempted to hide his revulsion, something he'd have to do, even more so, with earnest, a few moments later.

Alexander had honestly never heard the story of how exactly Murat had lost his eye, though he'd be lying if he said he'd never wondered. As the older Shinigami divulged the tale, Alexander sat calmly and listened. When Murat began to unfasten his eyepiece, Alexander found himself taking another small sip of the liquor. Maybe it was the knowledge, that he was about to see something shocking, that had him going to the drink in his hand, something to steady the nerves. Perhaps it was just an automatic thing, done without thinking, as he watched on, transfixed by a dreaded fascination. When he swallowed this time, he found himself less affected by the noxious strength of the drink, and savoured the flavour with only the slightest wince due to the former.

The scar was... unpleasant, though Alexander had seen some pretty grisly stuff, and had braced himself for something nasty, he'd still feel that involuntary, brief, sickening, sympathetic shiver. He found himself averting his gaze, briefly, then glancing down at the device as it was placed on his desk. Alexander couldn't help but have a flash of concern over hygiene, imagining for a moment some sort of sticky mucus like substance on the eyepiece. It occurred to him that probably wasn't the appropriate thing to think. Afterall, it looked fairly clean and if it had been a prosthetic leg or hand or something... He found himself looking at Murat's scar again. This time, he didn't find himself so shocked. It took a second or two to get used to, sure, but there wasn't any slime or anything. The flesh was scarred, but it was smooth, there weren't any random jagged bits of bone or anything poking out. It was the exact nature of the wound, how the flesh had reformed, the curiousness, that had Alexander poised to actually ask questions about the injury, but Murat was quick to cover that base.

It would be as Murat moved on, quite cunningly, perhaps, onto the subject of how one recovered after an incident like this, that Alexander found himself looking down. He'd mull over the glass in his grip, seeing how much he could swirl the liquid before it threatened to spill, not much, as it happened. Of course, he considered Murat's words, what it was like to be so affected by trauma. It wasn't as if that was something that Alexander himself hadn't experienced. Back when he'd first graduated from the Academy and had been placed in the First Division, he'd been in recovery, of a sorts, following the incident that'd seen him nearly eaten alive by a horde of Hollows. These days, he'd barely batted an eye at that sort of thing. Hollows weren't a problem for him now, but back when he'd been an Academy Student, little more and beyond a basic Rukongai citizen, it'd been a harrowing experience.

His mind looking for something else to ponder on, he found himself contemplating the glass. It was still very full. He was still listening to Murat, though his gaze was cast downward. His thoughts turned very briefly to the drink and concluded that he'd had nearly a shot's worth. That much wasn't good, though he knew it would still be taking a little while for the effects to kick in. As it happened, he was already beginning to feel... something, and he'd be helpless to prevent himself slipping even more, even if he were to go to something non-alcoholic to try and water it down.

When Murat began to hit a little closer to home, asking Alexander in turn what was bothering him, the young Officer found himself hesitating. As he raised his head, in response to Murat's direct question, he'd soon find himself once more staring down at his desk.

"Well... I... That..."

He knew exactly what it was that was bothering him, but even with the early effects of alcohol starting to show themselves, it'd be difficult to come right out with something like this.

"There was... something. It... I'm not sure exactly how you could help. I mean, it's all on record, but it's not something I really want to talk about. I mean, it's hard to say how exactly people would react if they knew. I... I had to do something, something I... something I'm not proud of. I didn't want to, but... Well, there's a few people who know, Kasumi, some people from Third and Fourth... and now I've got this job."

Quite suddenly, his manner changing swiftly, Alexander raises his head, and hits Murat with perhaps an unexpected question.

"Can I ask, what you think my job entails, exactly?"

He wouldn't give Murat much of a chance to answer that question, despite the fact that he'd seemed to have been asking in earnest, not asking a rhetorical question. Alexander had finally started to let loose.

"I mean, what I do is important. It Really Is. But just look at this place. Am I supposed to be able to help anyone like this? Imean, Iknowyou'vealreadysaid. They might as well have me throttling everyone who comes in through my door. It'd be kinder. Of course, Kasumi won't even talk to me about it. She's just so up in arms because I treated her like a kid, that I didn't treat her like an equal. Well, you know where that Little Bitch can go?"

It was fairly shocking, given the small amount that Alexander had apparently had, but even before this he'd been teetering on a knife's edge.

"Oh fuuck..."

The mood gives a swift turn, from a brief, somewhat unexpected outburst of anger, to a crushing downward spiral that has Alexander hunched over, clutching the sides of his head, face looking down to the desk. There's a sharp intake of breath.

"I mean, it is her, isn't it? I'm not the jerk here."

He asked desperately, with a plea, sharply looking up and gazing at Murat before finding himself back in his sorrow. His slightly unfocused eyes dart side to side, imploring Murat to provide some kind of answer, but Alexander's gone again before he has a chance. There's guilt and a crippling despair. By the end of it, he's sunken even further, hands sliding even further back, fingers running through and interlinking amidst the hair on the back of his head.

"I mean, I had to do what I did, but... It's not my fault. She... It's not... It's not that she's not talking to me because of what I did, is it? She doesn't think that I...? Oh, fucking... hell..."

He doesn't stop until the pain in his throat, the shaking and that uncontrollable need to simply break down prevents him from going any further. If it weren't for the glass, there on the desk in front of him, he'd have sunken all the way down to the table. Instead though, he's there, eye shut, his body clenched. Face poised over and not far from his drink, tears ready to gather and drip from the edge of his nose into the whiskey.

Word Count (Total): 1261 (5263)
Total GP: 105

Murat couldn't help it, Alex was just so damn cute when he got all worked up like this. Calling Kasumi the 'Little Bitch' sent what would have been an otherwise totally reasonable series of complaints from the Sixth Seat over the edge. It was in bad taste, and probably not what the Brit needed to hear, but Murat simply found it impossible to hold back after Alex laid his head down. Putting his free hand to his mouth, his stifled giggle quickly turned into a full blown laugh.

Pulling his hand forth and extending the index finger to call for time as he struggled to regain his composure, Murat looked as apologetically as he could through his smiling face at Alex. Settling down enough to speak, he managed to get a brief explanation out through his beaming teeth, "Sorry, it's just... fuck do you need to unwind a bit, Alex."

Patting his colleague on the shoulder, he sighed out the last bit of unintended mirth, shaking his own head and trying to lift the man's chin up with a gentle nudge. Murat had been in similar places to where the other man now found himself, worried for his job, his image, or even his continued freedom. Hell, he was here with the express purpose of finding out if Alex would be losing any of those three, but he couldn't help but feel a little bad for the guy. If he had taken the time to consider it, Murat might have realized that it was probably a bad idea to drink before an integration.

Shrugging at Alex, he said, "Look, Alex, I get where you're coming from. I'm hardly the best person to lecture anyone on keeping their personal feelings to themselves while on the clock. You know, what with Walkren and all." Alex might have been a little absent-minded, but he would have needed to either be blind or totally removed from the loop in order to have not seen him hanging all over the former Captain of Third. Murat hadn't really talked about the man much since his disappearance and quickly found himself choking up a bit.

He hated having time to think about it. He made the mistake of getting too close to Walkren and was paying dearly for it. If it hadn't been for the memory of that enchanting girl he met in that Berlin bar, Murat didn't know how he'd have been able to drag himself out of bed every day. Clearing his throat, he continued, "Anyway, Kas is our boss, and even though she's an attractive young woman, you need to learn to hold her tits and her position separately." Half-patting and half-rubbing Alexander's shoulder lightly with mild difficulty from across the desk, Murat tried to catch his gaze to make sure he was doing okay.

Leaning back into the chair and taking a quick sip from his flask, Murat contemplated the situation. Alex had something on his mind that he felt guilty over. It didn't sound like it was tied to his investigation, but getting him to open up with that might well lead to much juicier fruit. "So what, exactly, is it that's bothering you anyway? It can't be as bad as you're making it out to be," Murat asked as he pulled the flask from his lips.

WC: 555/3,741

An unexpected sound would soon interrupt and stall the young Shinigami's breakdown. Was Murat laughing? Alexander's sobs would cease with a single decisive sniffle as he slowly raised his head. The tears had stopped, and had been swiftly wiped away by a sleeve, but a slight red swelling beneath the eyes made it clear what had begun to happen. There was, at first, a look of confusion, but the new Officer would soon find himself aghast, going as far as having to stifle a gasp from his mouth with both hands, as he realised what it was.

"You can't tell anyone I called the Captain Commander a Bitch."

The words came out hastily, in one quick stream, clear enough for Murat to hear, but with a hush that made it clear that Alexander now suddenly had a fear of being overheard. Was he really worried about that? Knowing the young Officer, he probably was, but fortunately he'd soon have some reassurances from Murat as the man leant over. Alexander's hands had briefly dropped, away from his mouth and had wound up sort of clenched together now, one hand a fist being nervously rubbed by the other. His gaze had also fallen slightly as he now had this new worry and concern, coupled with a rushing return of all his current ones, helping to zone him out. This frightful spiral down that terrible line of thought was interrupted suddenly as he found Murat's gentle touch lifting up his chin. It was unexpected, and caught him off guard, and perhaps it was just the alcohol hitting his system, or something else, but he suddenly found himself feeling a bit of heat in his cheeks. Well, clearly he wasn't drunk enough yet, because his reaction was to quickly withdraw, casting his gaze away to one side and picking up his drink, from which he'd unwisely take another sip.

The comment about Walkren was a little unexpected, and the pain in Murat's voice was hard for Alexander, even in his current state, to fail to notice. It was enough for Alexander to rebound from his bashfulness, and leap straight to a sense of concern for the older Shinigami.

"Captain Dekharr? I thought I'd heard some rumours but... Oh... I see. I'm sorry..."

The fact that Alexander had so quickly and immediately translated 'Walkren' straight to 'Captain Dekharr', familiar enough with a Captain's first name for such a transition, was a point Alexander would skip over, if possible. He, of course, felt for the man, enough so that he had a few seconds before his mind suddenly went and made for itself a few connections.

[So wait... those sounds I kept hearing from the Office below mine... those hot sounds... that was? What sort of...? I mean, to make another man, a Captain even, make noises like that...]

His thoughts would soon make a quick U-Turn on that front as Murat made some frankly horrific insinuations about the Captain Commander.

"That's kind of gross, man."

Given how Alexander saw Kasumi, as someone to not be even remotely attracted to, his sentiments would be genuine. Although, despite that, possibly for the first time since Murat had entered his office, Alexander found himself genuinely smiling. Though his gaze would quickly avert itself again as he looked across to the older Shinigami's hand falling on his shoulder, the journey diverted very briefly in a flickering glance on Murat's face, before ending up somewhere in the corners of the Office.

It was all going kind of well, until Murat was back onto the matter at hand. Alexander's heart would drop into his stomach. Despair would make a triumphant return, and a painful brooding would return soberingly to the young Shinigami's face. There was a brief silence.

"I..."
[...Killed someone. I killed a kid.]
"It..."
[There was nothing else I could have done.]
"This happened not long ago..."

He felt a sick nausea put itself to work in the pit of his gut. Now that he'd started, it was something he needed to see through, but putting himself through it again wasn't easy.

"It's all in the mission report. If you don't know, you probably haven't seen it. It's not a secret, just... something I wouldn't want to ever tell anyone. It was during a mission with Kasumi, in Bolivia. This was before she was the Captain Commander, just me and her."

Alexander was gone. His eyes stared into nothingness as he found himself back there. He could almost see their faces, smell the stench.

"It was supposed to be a routine patrol mission, but the local outpost run by the Fourth Division had reported a rash of missing peoples in the area. We decided to investigate and..."

There was a general clenching as Alexander reached the hardest part. His teeth grinding together, and fortunately his drink was not in hand, for they'd ball into fists.

"What we found was some sort of sick, twisted... fucking..."

He couldn't think of a derogatory term for it, but there was the briefest break in his gradually ascending speech.

"...Laboratory."

A clinical term for it, that he could only find the slightest satisfaction from saying by spitting out the word with as much bile as he could muster.

"We never found the people who ran the place. The only person we caught was some Quincy, a Mercenary they'd hired to bring them all of their 'Test Subjects'. They'd cleaned out the whole place by the time we got there. The only people left behind were..."

He shook, and his voice cracked up, and tears that had already started before now had a clear passageway to start up again.

"Some of them were only kids. The things those sick bastards had done to them... Women and children... Lined up in cages, their blood and their piss and their shit, all just... The smell..."

There was a moment or two, as Alexander found himself gasping for air, trying to recover. Perhaps, unwisely, he forced himself to continue.

"We did what we could for the ones that could still walk, and we carried out some others, but the rest... the ones too far gone... the ones that were beyond any help... I... I waited until Kasumi was outside. I didn't want her to have to... She was my superior, but she was still just a kid. I didn't want her to see."

A sort of odd calm had come over Alexander, it was as if he'd come fall circle and had just hit a place of deadness.

"They didn't struggle. They didn't make a sound. They just laid there. But there weren't any 'thank yous', either. There weren't any sighs of relief. No grateful look in their eyes. I thought I was helping them, the only way I could, finally putting them to rest, to give them some peace. But now that it's over, and I look back, and I remember the looks on their faces, those blank, dead expressions. I don't know. Was there something more I could have done for them? Could they have been saved? Couldn't some of the children...?"

He breaks off from that point and stands. In desperation, he turns to the window. He finds himself face to face with the boarded up pane, but then, perhaps that was for the best. He really didn't want anyone seeing his face right now. There was a brief pause before he continued again.

"Kasumi won't even talk to me about it. I can't say that I blame her, but expecting me to believe it's because I treated her like a kid... You know, there's a part of me that's surprised you're not here to arrest me. There are days I find myself thinking that exactly what's going to happen, that Second Division will come barging in here and, to be honest, I don't think I'd have the heart to fight it."

Word Count (Total): 1351 (6614)
Total GP: 132

Alex’s little freak out over Murat not running his mouth to Kasumi about his remarks brought a bit more laughter to his heart, but also firmly squared away his resolution to keep the real purpose of his visit from the man for as long as possible. If he was that worried about a little swearing, full-blown accusations of treason were liable to send the man teetering off the edge,even though things were looking less and less like Alex was guilty as he went on, even without touching the actual substance. There was no way a man so skittish could be involved in such a conspiracy unless this was all an act. There was no threat attached, he’d just jumped straight to begging. If he was this scared she’d find out he called her a less than favorable word, the odds of him conspiring against the Seireitei were slim indeed.

The fact that he had missed a fellow seated officer’s very public relationship with the Captain of Third only served to further establish innocence in the matter. They hadn’t attempted to hide anything at all about their involvement with each other, and for him to have completely missed the telltale signs likely meant that his eyes simply weren’t open. No, the much more likely scenario as he continued talking seemed to be a simple case of incompetence and inattentiveness, not actual collaboration.

Murat relaxed and listened as Alex spoke, his right finger resting on his lip as he nodded along to indicate he was following him. He would have to review this report in full, but it helped to hear it straight from the Sixth Seat’s mouth. Murat attempted to catch his eyes, but he seemed lost in his own memories. No doubt there were minor details he was leaving out to make it easier on himself to explain. The anguish in his voice was plain to hear, even when describing the more mundane bits of his mission.

The whole thing felt a little underwhelming in the end. It sounded as though Alex had done everything he could, by the book. He had even offered mercy beyond the call of the mission. There was no betrayal of the Seireitei on his mind, no unchecked aggression leading to innocent blood being spilled, not even simple insubordination. Yet still, somehow, the man had been affected by it this severely. Murat had gone through similar issues recently, with the rebuilding of the Seireitei after the latest Hollow attack. The damage estimates and casualty reports didn’t write themselves, but he was seeing them afterwards.

He had been prepared to offer some words about that when suddenly, without warning, a lingering image popped into Murat’s head. The tortured face of that small boy, recently made corporeal by whatever power Tachi possessed had haunted his dreams. He had done enough research on his past life on Earth to know the circumstances surrounding that boy’s death and just what Murat being able to remember it meant. That, added to his involvement with the human trafficking ring as a soul in the Rukongai, could be used to paint Murat in a much more unpleasant light than he usually chose to view himself in. Alex had felt guilt over a few mercy killings in the line of duty, but Murat had yet to answer for crimes which were far more heinous.

Not only that, but his recent actions in Dubai had cost hundreds, if not thousands of mortal lives. Sure, being there had likely saved many thousands more, but he had let his prey escape along with far too many innocent souls. Again, Alex’s perceived crimes failed to stack up to the scale of his own sins, yet he’d mostly found it in himself to get over it. It was too damn much, seeing his colleague feeling so miserable over something so small. Shaking his head, he put his flask down and walked over to the window, wrapping his arm around the other man’s shoulder.

"Don’t be like that, Alex," he said, having issues getting through his own lingering feelings of guilt well enough to keep his voice steady, "You did what you had to do, and there’s not a damn thing wrong with that." He paused, unsure if he should open up to Alex about any of the thoughts that had just run through his head. His mortal acts and the crimes he had committed before becoming a Shinigami were secrets he felt best kept to himself, but there was no use in hiding what happened during his recent missions to Earth.

"Besides, it sounds like your heart was in the right place. That’s all you can really ask for when you’re up against the wall like that. I’m guessing you haven’t seen the report of what happened to me in Dubai?" he asked, not stopping long enough for a response. "It was my first mission to earth in four decades, and who should I run into but the fucking King of Las Noches, or at least a Hollow who claimed that title. He leveled blocks of the city, and I was the only damn Shinigami there to stop him."

It was Murat’s turn to stare off as his mind’s eye replayed the scene. He could still feel the raging dust hitting his face as he fought the Dragon King in the sky over Dubai. "That son of a bitch killed more people that day than the recovery team could count, but it’s not my fault they died any more than it’s your fault the ones in Bolivia did. You saved some of them and you saw to it that the others got peace in the end. That’s really all anyone can be asked to do. Ask Kasumi if you don’t believe me and I’m sure she’ll tell you the same damn thing."
He sighed, patting Alex on the back before shooting him a grin, "Besides, if I was going to arrest you, I wouldn’t have come alone, and I sure wouldn’t be giving you my good whiskey. I’ve seen you in action a few too many times to put myself at the receiving end without being properly prepared."

WC: 1,030/4,771